Category: Thoughts Out Of Season

4:14 am… Sunlight’s morning rays pierce midnight’s foggy dreams…

4:52 am… There’s something about the northern spring air that really lets you know you’re alive. It has this old icy smell and taste to it, as if the wind had traveled across a great distance of time and space…

All is quiet. Dawn’s hush has silenced the voodoo chickens, as gray clouds smother the morning sky.

4:38 am… The bells of the voodoo gypsy queen jingle in rhythmic mockery of Holy Mother Church, as she proudly prances across the gray slate of Jackson Square… With a whisper and a smile, she’ll tell your tale.

5:54 am… The water slowly drips into the coffeepot as voodoo chickens call in the day. I’m thinking about the wide expanse of Earth – living on Earth, walking on Earth, breathing on Earth. I want to go where the…

Then it hits you… the universe is radically indifferent towards human suffering; life, is meaningless. The Last Man trembles at such an awakening, and seeks to hide himself within the fog of mystical realms; while the Übermensch embraces his awakening,…

I ran into a lost soul huddled in a sunlit doorway; crumpled, twisted, drooling – river of piss flowing fresh to the curb… who came up with this idea?

You’re 3 to 5 baby, only 3 to 5. Yes, that’s right my old buskin’ buddy, you’ve reached the end of Buskers’ Road. The years have rolled on by without your notice, and now the fresh morning air hits your…