Skin Shedding In AthenaGraceLand

I can feel myself changing shape.  It feels weird to blog… now that I’m not leaking caffeinated rocket fuel from every orifice I posses… shrug.  Lately I just don’t feel like I have that much to say… No, without caffeine amping me up, I feel like I somehow managed to swallow the Grand Canyon and there’s so much serene empty space, lazily sprawling out inside me.  Suddenly, every day is Sunday and every meal is leisurely brunch.  Every racetrack is full of domesticated snails and ever clock makes arduous and constipated ticks… and… t-t-tocks.  I feel like I am dissolving… and I’m glad for that.

I have gotten some positive strokes recently for being particularly *profound* here in AthenaGraceLand.  Groovy enough, right?  Yes I love positive strokes… but I noticed that my attachment to that sweetest of fruit was hindering the full spectrum of my expression.  And repeatedly performing the same crowd pleasing circus tricks just ain’t how I roll, yo.  I step onto the page as a wild horse steps onto the mesa~ to embody freedom, make love to the wind, to make the earth tremble, to be fluent in the language of thunder.  Not to be stroked for my exceptional profundity.  Nah, leave that to the PHDs and the MFAs.  Ladies and Gentlemen, the LMNOPs of the world let it all hang out.  I AM.  That’s about as profound as it gets today.  I am.

I am a human being struggling to break free from the bondage of my own mind.  And I am doing pretty good… but I sure hope that all this sweating and bleeding I’m doing now will pay off later.  I betcha twelve bucks that most people would tell me that I’m taking life way too seriously, being way too hard on myself, blahdy, blahdy blah… but listen, if you’re one of them, just you wait.  This might BE the modern day rendition of Henny Penny after all.  Wasn’t Henny Penny the one who worked real hard while all of her barn yard friends just dicked off and poked fun at her for being so focused and ambitious when she could have been simply dicking with the best of ‘em… and then a day came when tragedy struck and the whole spray of smelly animals were desperate to partake in the fruits of Henny Penny’s labors… I can’t remember if she was merciful and shared or whether she hoarded her booty in the end… but for the sake of time-transcending parables, let’s just say that she was virtuous and shared… Because I’d like to think that’s what I would do.

Yeah, I’m a modern day, under-cover, spiritual Henny Penny, working my soul’s fingers to the bone in the name of breaking free from the relentless insanity of the mind… And some day, your ass is gonna come wimpering to me, begging for a grandiose slice of peace pie… A sumptuous lump of Love flambé.  And you know what I’m gonna say?  I’m gonna say fuck* yes, I’ll hook a brotha and a sistah up… Eat up and come back for seconds, Pilgrim!  Come back for thirds… and thirty thirds… because the All Pervading Cream-Filled-Center is footin’ the bill!

*Yes, I said the F word.  Remember, a while back, I took a poll to feel deeper into the general consensus of this matter.  The results?  Spliced right down the middle… (Thank you, by the way, to all who exercised your voices pertaining to this matter!  I always love hearing your voice from my perch over here in Amnesiac Heaven…) which reminded me that ultimately, I get to say.  And since today I am a wild mare, snorting gratuitously and giving thunder a run for its money, I opted to toss a fuck into this decadent linguistic soup.  Sure… I could have said a million different things… and I might still.  But I believe that when used mindfully, sparingly and with rebellious reverence, fuck can sometimes be the spice that rounds out this holy-ish soup.  It’s kinda like cayenne pepper.  Mykael has a tendency to get heartburn when he eats spicy food… so I have mostly refrained from adding cayenne pepper (which I previously dashed into just about everything) to the [exceptional] food I prepare.  Now you could argue that cayenne pepper is a cop-out.  It’s just plain spicy… but it doesn’t have much flavor.  You could challenge me to find more culinarily innovative ways of expressing myself, besides just the cheap, hollow theatrics of garden variety spiciness.  Shrug.  That would be entirely valid… and I could rise higher than the occasion and ring bells you didn’t even know you had.  My cooking would STILL make your toes wiggle with primitive bliss… but sometimes this bitch likes it spice-ay.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Rosy Moon
    Jul 28, 2010 @ 06:03:46

    You are a wild mare!! And thanks for pointing that out today, I had one of those in my very wild dream last night. She slowed the speeding train carriage that I was riding on and bade me ride her bare back (yeah, come on…let those images and words have their way with ya!). She is power, as are you, oh and for everyone else, what Athena says about her cooking is true, can’t wait to taste the peace pie and love flambe!!!!


  2. mamaleal
    Jul 29, 2010 @ 18:24:58

    I love this post AG! Thank you for bringing spice and thunder into my life with your writing.
    With love, Caitlin


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