my heart swelleth over. well, it did yesterday evening. i cannot write about it though because i must adhere to privacy. some days are deluges. this was one of them. i don’t feel like writing this morning. i don’t want to put down my thoughts. i am still figuring out how to write my very specific abstract for my paper and still too high up in the clouds with it all, in the theories, probably reinventing wheels while also being caught up in the mystery of it all. i don’t need to come up with anything new necessarily. i wish i was writing a novel right now, i admit. or a television show. my biggest passion alongside jungian psychology these days. thinking all the time about scenes and how to capture them. feeling moments as if they should be on screen or lighting up a reader’s imagination. i always want to create a story. so the road of trials is lit up in my mind like a movie, a show, and a novel right now. the road of trials is everybody’s walk into this life. but i don’t want to talk about this morning. i really don’t. i am feeling something else percolating in my heart this morning. not sure what though. feeling the aquarius moon. oddball moon. airy moon. the sky is diffused in shades of salmon and lavender. i got really bad pms. i feel like clawing a tapestry as if i had claws. but i don’t. wishing i had a lion for a pet. staring into the mountains finding relief there. i don’t know. just gonna let this blog go and deteriorate into nonsense so that my unconscious may unravel. blue fish swim in circles by the seashore that sally counts seashells on. in england. longing for a free country. the celtic lore. where did it begin? in the stars. my fay life. short and dark haired and tiny. running away from the veil that would catch up with us anyhow. going west. leaving. diminishing as they say in lord of the rings. or in some parody. the kingfish. the fisher king. the last chance to end the curse of the ring. epic quests and ordinary moments tied together with string hanging on a dying pine tree made to represent a regurgitated holiday. my dad’s dark humor blog calling us all out on being frauds. but really, we are faking what society wants us to be to protect who we really are. children of the universe. bright lights stamped out and heads walked upon and walking upon heads. i feel innocence returning. i was wrong, it can return. you can get back to the garden. but it will be different forever. everything is different forever in every moment. coleslaw melting on a paper plate under the sun. i need to read the mask of a thousand faces. pickles that are sweet when you thought they’d be salty. summer images. flies swirling around a metal fan. the south where so much of it all began. dying summer. another season passing. my life back then. past lives swimming by my mind. blue fish. blue pig. whatever. finis.