Old Journal Attempt #26A

I have never been able to keep a diary or journal. I just write random shit in random books and on random pieces of paper or in this case typed on random pages of webspace and that is that. I recently found a slim flimsy medium sized address book that I was motivated to fill up with a journal about sixteen months ago while I was living in San Diego. I filled about a page and a half. What I am stoked on is that what I wrote still makes sense to me now and my thinking has not changed, which I like for some reason.

I think I thought differently a few years ago and have been undergoing a metamorphoses of sorts, a blossoming of the soul, an unblurring - now I feel a greater purpose and a greater love for the universe and my part in it...

- this is what I wrote on that page-and-a-half of journal attempt #26A:

It's August 31st 2008, I'm tired been up since dawn, now it is 10 something, some French Stevie Nick's song playing on my new room radio, the one my mom sent me, songs over. My boss got me/gave me girl scout cookies, one box of pb/choc and one box of lemon cremes that I left on the hood of the antenna of the van and drove off. I forget things easy, afraid its gonna get worse. Now its just a lounge beat. Gonna lower it and keep it on while I sleep.

Already September 4th, go figure. I can't seem to understand the flow of energy among humans, not sure it is possible we rob energy from others and vice versa, quite intentionally and unintentionally to hoard for ourselves. Is it selfish or is it natural? Is there a scientific explanation for the imbalances of our brain chemicals that produce our mental forcefields, some strong some weak, constantly bending and morphing, like the oceans. Maybe since we are made of saltwater, on the inside in every molecular nook and cranny there is a tiny bit of Di-hydrogen Oxide and some sodium and they create a mini-ocean movement network. Swells, pulses of energy wind driven. Thats why people who talk too much are strange. By too much I mean few credible things said per words muttered. If it is just noise then all it does is create crossed up swells with too small of an interval to really produce anything organized. Nothing lines up at that rate. Wisdom allows us to track our swells and understand at which tide and in which direction we react the most gracefully. A universal grace that can be felt best when it is abundant in groups. Bad vibes good vibes.

Sometimes life is funny

Now it is October 15th. Been catching waves on a different board lately. It has put my surfing right where I want it. No track pad on the back, 6'1" rounded pin, thin but floaty, holds a rail real nice. I got two legit short tubes on it. I've been smiling before I duckdive a nice wave out of respect to it. Sometimes it is just a smile of childish awe. I'll usually laugh before I am about to get pummeled. Not a loud laugh just the internal kind. Curious squirrel lurking outside the van. I wish they weren't so timid. I would feed it and take good care of it. My radio won't pick up my two favorite stations for some reason maybe they are two low on the dial. I get to blast the jazz in my work van, sometimes I get a real good groove. Jazz reminds me of good waves, anything goes.

Sometimes life is funny sometimes it is too peculiar for words

The way the folds come undone

Revealing a more intricate pattern

That can only be felt and not seen or touched

The split split split seconds that ricochet the path

Or paths, but there could just be one.