The dark comes and then like a switch

Bob Weir shouldn't be singing about don't you want your daddy to feel alright because I haven't had coffee yet and it makes me think eecchh no bluch what's up with this version of this song?  It is a studio version, clean version, Shakedown Street version.  The dark comes and then like a switch too, the cold is here.  I am adjusting to winter in the canyon.  Which means my windows are still open but in the morning I need fuzzy socks and sweaters and live recordings of the Dead that make me think of the dreams of California before California was actually my living dream.  You know yellow sunshine cliffsides and PCH.  Not mustache muffle you can hear too well bc of over-production.  I mean. Sheesh.  Also I will need a wetsuit now.  At Mermaid Beach it was the blue and gunmetal color on the twists and turn-unders that make the lips break so stunning white.  Which if you know the sea like me you know that means cold.  I was right and even though past the pound it was clear and turquoise underneath, still it was goosebumps soon as I got out and my hands took several hours to warm.  It was the same before on Tuesday, just that it didn't look cold yet.

Haha this, my life.  I spent at least six hours yesterday cleaning up my online presence.  Online presence!!? Isn't that a trip?  When I wrote that I saw in my head my old bedroom when I was a young teenager where in the corner I had this sittin-chair, like a futon armchair thing. It made me feel like, you know.  Adult.  And it's where I would sit and paste pictures on the wall of cut-out magazine poems and surfer boys.  And ohhhh lawd feel the angst of gahhh but life is sooo hard.  Then smoke a cigarette out the window and think of all the reasons I needed relief.  Back of hand on forehead.  Dear me.

I went to San Juan to meet ppl down there to celebrate a birthday and the 73 was like driving through a technicolor scene.  Like sunshine batches you could actually reach out and touch and make into braids to ribbon through your hair.  Clouds the size of bonnets for the Angel-Queens that ride in the sky.  What this land would look like if we got more of this once or twice a year rain!?  Come on world you're so beautiful it is devastating.  You crunch me apart like I have glass insides.

Hand to the forehead.  

Again.

When I got home after that I spent another five hours on business cards and brochures.  It was 2 when I turned in.  The flat pat of rain outside.  The holy surrender cry of plants that long ago had quit.  It amazes me the instinct--where does it come from--to press on and on, and do what we have to do.

Life you strange beast.  I adore and…also grit my teeth at you.  Plants sing better than Weir does out my window. Ahhhhhh ohhhhhhh mmmmmmm yea

thank you waterrrrRelief.