sometimes i'm not sure if i'm awake or dreaming. probably happens to everyone. my french housemate has started doing a thing where she starts wriggling on the floor, dressed in a hoody with a fur coat over the top and small red slippers and tries to make me think i AM actually dreaming. now when she starts wriggling i tell her "not the worm, not the worm!"
i was looking at this slug before, making its way over a munted lime my friend did a beautiful painting of. the limes have shrivelled and the slug was just passing by. i always think about how the other animals go about their business, what things to do that they do. mainly birds, but sometimes the insects too, the soft ones, and the ones with armour. none of them go to yoga, but they all seem so supple and like they worry about nothing.
there are new caterpillars in our garden now too, super spikey ones. i was watching the willy wag tail hunting out there and it only goes for soft flying animals. like it: soft, flying. i dared it to eat one of the spiked guys but it just turned to me and said "i don't even have to try, to fulfil my nature. i just pick the soft insects from the garden, a garden which i don't tend, fly around, keep my head to the ground, only metaphorically. did you know that sound travels faster through the ground and through water than the air? so i stay in the air, i like things to have some time to relax and release before they hit my tiny ears. i like the fire to go out of the news stories before i listen to them. that way, the edges are knocked off. how i hear things, everything's soft and flying. you should try it."
the willy wag tail has a good point. but it also can't go into 208s and listen to drowning horse. or go to mojos tonight and watch peter bibby. but maybe in the balance of things it has it things worked out better. no existential crises just hunting, no existential crises just slugging around for a few months of sweet green life.
i asked the slug about pauline hanson and whatnot, just to find out more from all the guys out there in the garden. the slug said "the muslims are coming, and they're going to break your heart", winking its anus. the slug said "just jokes, we don't even think in those terms. good, bad, right, wrong, niceguy, bigot. like mary swan your yoga teacher said, just take the dao way, get rid of right and wrong, don't think about redheads, don't think about heartbreak, don't think about inviting people to dinner to try and change their minds, just slug, hunt, breathe deeper into your ribs." my ribcage isn't moving enough though and i think it's because of pauline hanson. but which comes first? the slug life or a new reality? maybe some place in between.
like rammstein. people love this band but who put the ramm in the rammalama ramstein?
but does everyone have a french housemate who wriggles on the floor, dressed in a hoody with a fur coat over the top and small red slippers and tries to make you think you ARE actually dreaming? now she starts wriggling in the kitchen and i tell her "not the worm, not the worm!"