Pressure

This morning started pretty much the same as always, all brillig. The toves brought me my fruit, along with their usual bleatings that I deliver them from the momewraiths. I donned my battle apparel and descended into the pit, spent a few hours hacking them down, cleaving their baboon-like hides with my vorpal blade. They tried to outgrab, but you know the drill. Snicker snack. Just more of the same.

I did finish the mohole today. Clear through the magma, just as the theory predicted. Elegant. I found an ancient civilization of hominoids in a mighty cavern illuminated by burgundy phosphorescent fungi. We danced around bonfires of glittering crystal, singing the songs of Eden. Then we feasted on sacred amanita muscaria until the walls of illusion came crashing down.

I floated down an unending river while jaguars swiped at me from the banks. The air was filled with a fragrance of cinnamon, stirred by the fanning of broad leaves hanging from the canopy. The water was salty. A woman rose like sunrise from the green tide, her skin golden and her hair long and black. She walked to me, full-breasted and wide of hips, and she raised her arms and took my hand and drew me to her. I forgot myself and fell into her eyes until after a time I passed through and I was alone again.

And now I come to myself once more. It's my birthday. It has a zero in it. Generally I write something for my birthday. Perhaps I will. But you know the purpose of this blog. It's all, all of it, about emotion. How far, how high, how broad, how deep. How empty. How full.


J