Florida swampland for sale. . .

Its Freya's day . . . Northerlies are cooling TulseyTown givings us time to begin breaking up the log jams in the flotsam and jetsam.

Project 2025 is a wrap. It’s locked, loaded, and ready to go. If you believe it’s about to disappear or that Trump won’t use any of it, I have some swampland in Florida for you. – Joyce Vance, Civil Discourse.

Republicans seem to be imploding. For years, people have noted that the party seemed to be painting itself into a corner, but it’s very odd to watch it now seem to be trapped. – Heather Cox Richardson, Letters from an American.

. . . the present is everything as it holds the eternally new question of life for us. Now everything depends on what is expected of us. As to what awaits us in the future, we don’t need to know that any more than we are able to know it. – Viktor Frankl

Crashing into trees . . .

It's Thor's day … and the heat hammer has been put aside for the next week.

Regarding that chalk line you drew on the floor in order to walk across the abyss – when you erase it, or trip on it, the abyss is still there. If you sit beside it and listen carefully, you might come to realize you aren't beside it, you are in it. That boundrylessness is your spirituality reminding you of your wonderful, true Self, calling you to surrender to this mystical Oneness. You, the chalk-line, the abyss are still there, but you are also aware of your connectedness, your safety, and your freedom from the necessity of drawing lines with chalk.

The stock market "crash" (already scrambling toward a semblance of recovery) and the "rats abandoning the sinking ship" of Hollywood ... both are interconnected. Our preoccupation with the "promises" of " progress actually creates regress. Ted Gioia's "doom loops" (posted a couple of days ago) points out what happens when we go in search of fresh bread and discover the only thing available is stale. Cultural "doom loops" are not life savers candy, nor floating devices.

Ai makes matter worse for at least two reasons: 1. Ai is "matter' fixed...it can't account for context influences beyond symbols tied to “things”; and 2. It can't see the future. All it can do is function as a "replicant" machine -- to borrow a sci-fi term. Replicants were beautiful but soul-less.

Sometimes it takes a dream to realize we can’t be with each other really if we are always trying to resist our interdependence.

What Kind of Times Are These

There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill

and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows

near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted

who disappeared into those shadows.

…

And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you

anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these

to have you listen at all, it's necessary

to talk about trees.

– Adrienne Rich, “What Kind of Times Are These” from Dark Fields of the Republic: Poems 1991-1995. W. W. Norton, 1995

Matilda Walz's too . . .

It's Odin's day . . . the TulseyTown weather gets cooler while Harris/Walz heat up . . .

Let's Walz … Joyce Vance's Civil Discourse

Heather Cox Richardson's Letters from an American, headlined the recent “crashes”... and made note that Americans have seen the Biden-Harris administration actually do the hard work of governing, completing the promises Trump made but didn’t deliver.

True Story

I can’t escape the possibility

I was meant to own a Zamboni

but got stuck with three can openers instead.

… Where would we have gone

on the Zamboni? Dunno, but how

is certain: slowly.

… How long ago did there cease to be a time

I can remember being without you?

...the year I first dreamed I was alive

and saw you coming around the corner

and thought, So this

is the famous happiness

I’ve heard so much about.

– Bob Hicok, “True Story,” Rattle #84, Summer, 2024