#512

Feeling better. No time to deliver a post today, but I did want to indicate that this had developed.

It can be said that things got a whole lot worse before they got better--as is often the case, in my experience, but one does forget. And bless this forgetting, for how else would existence be possible?

Anyway. Happy Easter tomorrow, Christ is risen, the infinite universe makes equals of us all, holy, holy, fuck yes, hail Mary, hail Satan, hail the infinite light that radiates infinite light while losing nothing of its radiance and nothing of its completeness, that Flame Imperishable.

I love you all, even those who would destroy me. 

--JL

#128

Experienced reading Patrick Kyle's short comics through the medium of the short comics of Patrick Kyle in Everything Disappeared: Short Comics by Patrick Kyle, which contains the short comics of Patrick Kyle.

These are some of the best god damn comics I have ever had the fortune and pleasure to run my eyes across. This motherfucker is a supergenius. The short comics of Patrick Kyle stand among equals on that narrow platform which makes up the highest pinnacle of humankind's cultural achievements. Rarely have I experienced such wonder and pleasure, and never in my life have I laughed out loud on a city bus.

For real, ridiculously Quality. I was lent these comics by a coworker and as soon as I finish this post I am going to order my own copy. Dunno what I can lend back that will even this situation out. This is one of my favorite feelings and favorite challenges. 

Patrick fucking Kyle. This person has achieved something uncommon.

*

Also I ate a sandwich today. Let me tell you about this motherfucking sandwich.

This sandwich stepped up to home plate and sliced a thousand-mile-an-hour pitch in half with a sword. This sandwich punched the other boxer's head clean off like a dandelion. This sandwich dove into the pool with such force and technical prowess that in one clean three-second glide it laid its fingers on the far wall. 

Dogg, this sandwich punished. This was one of the sandwiches worth the suffering that staying alive has put you through and makes your cells heal a little as your soul resonates one clear pure note of honest and uncomplicated sacred pleasure.

Rustic Italian with delicious and flawlessly executed chicken salad (clean local farm chicken and house-made mayo) minced fine, roasted red pepper spread, two big exactly correct crunch and texture peppered strips of Arkansas bacon, and a mess of delicious thin-sliced spicy tang pickles, toasted to the precise point in butter; bread seared and delicate to hold, red peppers married into chicken salad warmed just barely to dripping.

Holy jumping saints in heaven. That sandwich was confirmation of value itself. That was God saying "Hey baby, look, I'm here. I'm right here with you. And I love you more than I can say, so here is a sandwich. Bite into it. I made it just for you."

Daily bread, man. I'm almost crying over here.

*

By no means all the blessings that today has placed into my basket, but frankly, much more and I'd just be chattering about how wonderful my life is. While it certainly is that, it's best to keep it simple and not get all high on your luck, so it shall suffice to say that I was gifted more wonderful food and the company of an old friend.

Some days just roll straight twenties. Turn up sevens every hour on the hour. Days you gotta grow your thankfulness just to keep up. 

*

Haven't drawn a picture in over a year! What the hell! This was once inconceivable to me. Have I mentioned this? Well I still haven't done it, but let me stand forsworn if that doesn't change right now, today, this instant.

After I, uh...eat another meal. 


Peace, peace, a thousand time peace plus one strong and firm out, yo.

--JL

#87

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve! It's just possible that you might not have known that and missed it, or forgotten what day it was entirely, or some such trouble. Then it would be on my conscience. I am happy to remind you.

*

Christmas is a pretty good time of year. I have never experienced any of these nightmare Christmases so celebrated and aggrandized in the wider culture, nor have I ever felt the approach of yuletide as a groaning doom which my shoulders must bleed under once every year. I know a lot of people really do, and the omnipresence of Christmas is torture, a torture whose chronoterritory expands yearly, like a holly, jolly cancer eating the calendar.

Deplorable as the mass hypercommercialization of Christmas is, and despite the trauma, inseparable from the holiday which afflicts so many, Christmas is a net good. I have been known to speak in a voice progressively more thick with rage to the point of actual spit coming out of my mouth as I talk about it all; the hypocrisy, the greed, the avarice, the out-of-control acquisitiveness. The holiday as it is marketed and often expressed is a twisted nightmare inverse of its rooted intentions: spiritual and physical rebirth, honor and charity for the humble and the meek, breaking bread with loved ones, the rising of the sun and other stars--renewal, sustenance, the promise of ascension.

These are necessary things to act out, even if it's all cocked up practically beyond recognition, even if mostly it's awful. It's because it's taking a shot at it. Taking a shot at it is the only way to get it right even once. Feeling that feeling even once is worth it. Worth it all. Pays for itself and everything else.

The only way to get anything--anything-- out of life is to believe in something that's not real, and making it happen, making it true. Believing in real shit is comparatively easy, still complicated, but easier. The other thing's a little harder, but it makes the real more real and the unreal more real than that, which I believe is sublime. And as human beings, we need an agreed-upon time, a significant time, to remind ourselves of that, to remind each other.

It is possible to let go of what has been, to embrace what is, to become prepared and willing and able to love more than before, give more than before, rejoice more than before, more than ever in your life, in ways you barely dared imagine and some you couldn't have. 

Truly, it is something which will hold you through the year. Truly, it is not about the single day, but what that day can, through the laughably simple spell of belief and love, kindle in your spirit--the transfigurations that begin as tiny moments of love and grow great within us, sustaining and bolstering us, if we are lucky, till next Christmas.

Have a merry holiday, dear readers. Season's blessings upon all of you, and all those you love. May peace reign supreme over a healing world.


--JL

#80

I had a great day at work today! It is also still excellent to walk there and back. That part of life is squared away. Really, all of it. My stomach is full, my bladder is empty, my sphincter is relaxed, I've got my good health and all five senses, I don't owe money, the air is breathable, I got a roof over my head, my family around me, books in my room, lots of things to write with, lots of things to write on, musical instruments to play, cash in my pocket, the sun is shining, Christmas is coming, and so far the nuclear apocalypse has not come to pass. A lot of stuff is scary and tough, but a lot of stuff is okay, and some has a good chance of staying okay. All we can do is our best, so we gotta keep good cheer.


--JL