Right now, I'm writing in the dark. I could turn on the lights, but I don't.
I'm listening to the Miles Davis' Bitches Brew album. It is dark, yet beautiful. A hard combination to capture for an instrumental composition.
But last night, I had nightmares of a porthole into hellish dimensions. In the middle of the night, the darkness descended on me as I vacillated between consciousness and unconsciousness
You know what though? I shook that shit off. But on very rare occasions, certain real-life undercurrents percolate into the blog.
I'm glad I don't live in Haiti.
Or the Luhansk Oblast.
Or in Tehran.
On some days, it's hard to count your blessings when you really should.
And I am grateful that Beacon of Speech existed another day.
I am more worried about Beacon of Speech teammate Ted. They closed his branch at work this week. When I started BOS, I told him he had to be my counterbalance or else I would just write about Alice Donut and Indoor Soccer all the time.
Hopefully both Ted and I both pull it out of the fire.