It Simply Is.

2:40am, February the First, TwentyThirteen. 2-1-2013

The lights are on, I’m not as tired as I should be, and have no inclination to sleep. Damn be to accidental naps.

Somewhere there is a mosquito flying around in here, or, more likely, resting until I try to close my eyes and do the same. Then, it will attack. We share no love, these blood suckers and I. Never have, never will. Still can’t figure out why they exist, what their purpose is. I will give every living creature an official pardon except those horrible beasts.

A small and wonderful success tonight – realizing a small hiccup in my shooting form which flexed the arrows just enough at release to alter their flight, just enough to be less consistent. The way the arrow is put in flight by the string is called ‘The Archers Paradox’ (look it up) – due to the sudden thrust, the shaft of the arrow flexes before it even leaves the bow. When the force of the bow is too light or heavy for the strength of the spine of the arrow, you can get an accurate shot – but an accurate shot ain’t shit if it isn’t consistent. It’s nothing but luck. Tonight, I figured out what I was doing wrong, and even though six yards is all I can shoot in my apartment, I was able to group them in a delicious ½ inch vertical strip on my target. (If I shot for a single point, I would destroy arrows, and as they’re around $8 each – HELL no.)…

But wait – I started writing for another reason that I completely forgot. Was it to offer incredible thanks to a certain someone who has helped me through these many months, for some reason put me before herself and helped me survive, grow, and remember that I might be something special? She chooses anonymity, so I will respect that – but R. – seriously, pull your head out of your ‘woe is me’ butt and realize how special you are. We all have our sorrows, we all have our pain, we ALL are a bit insecure. You created miracles for me, and I only can hope that you are never in the position where I am able to return the favor… but I someday will, in some way. I say this here because I think that so few read it these days, and I can’t blame them – but you do. I hate that sometimes, but not now. Still, this missive wasn’t started for you.

Could it be for L, who awakened a heart that I honestly thought had become so small, so tainted, so jaded, a body of life so fucking judged as to not believe that it dared to love anymore?

No. Yes.

If anything, my heart grew larger with my dreams, and it just could be her that I asked for. It just could be *her* that before shortly over a month ago was only a want… but then she spilled her drink and herself into my life, and… and. With her I am content. Content because I know that though she is so much to me, yet is against me riding a motorcycle in the city – I have little doubt that if that time ever comes, she will be riding not on back, but by my side. A single sentence that says it all – or at least what I feel. What I feel, I know.

And I feel that everything you can ever imagine for yourself will come true.

And I KNOW that it’s entirely up to you… and even if you don’t see it, the magick is happening in the background.      Believe.

It’s as simple as that.


Make Good Dreams.

I don’t know what this was about. It simply is.


Now WHERE is that fucking mosquito?


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