They’re just children…

And though they were sad they rescued everyone…

Maybe we all need to be rescued. Swept up by our astronaut fathers and taken to the new pastures above. I keep trying to connect with the excitement and joy I felt as I entered the new world. It’s hard to connect with these days. As the flag wavers collected their gas heaters and barbecue from the Main Street intersection after their weekly outing of intimidation and public outcry.

On lazy afternoons and evenings I would sit and absorb this album. It’s lazy rhythms and obscure lyrics wafting over me. We lived in south east Portland and the whole strange world would pass my window as I gazed out in the afternoons/evenings, gangsters, moms pushing strollers, strippers, dealers, old folks, young folks, hippies, punks, hookers, students and busy workers. They all passed by because the Dairy Queen was at the end of our road.

Some days I miss the vibrancy of that neighborhood. They called it “felony flats” for good reason. I never however felt afraid there.

Maybe I just miss the Dairy Queen.

remember to let the dogs out…

In my head I write these massive posts explaining what is going on in my head. The many small and meaningless thoughts I have driving from one place to the next to keep people going in social services for just one more day.

On Fridays I drive home past the perpetual Trump rally. Their flags and the beer bellies screaming. Their misogyny and hatred. It’s a he last thing I see on my way home each week.

I’ve figured out how to anger the massive pick up driving idiots on the way home. The answer is to drive the speed limit. Yesterday it was foggy, visibility was low and the idiot behind me was tail gating and flashing his lights. So I stuck to the speed limit, I could almost see the rage in his eyes in my rear view mirror. I checked out the local Facebook page and there it was “f@&k you the driver of the jeep who made me drive 55 for four miles tonight”. A nice description of my jeep. Go figure speed limits 55.

Which brings me to this.

Wayne and the boys explaining in view point of the American Head. It’s a much more tranquil place than the roads home right now.

Sound like Neil Young joined Pink Floyd at times which is not a bad thing and kind of the most endearing quality of the best Flaming Lips albums.

Brother Eye is my favorite this evening.

you realize the sun doesn’t go down…

Day 15.

Soft light falling through yellow curtains in the morning.

The hot cup of tea in a blue mug.

Strawberry jam on fresh scones.

The breeze stirring wheat in a field.

Sunflowers in the corner of the garden.

Bees buzzing through the clover.

The bite of a crisp apple.

A cold beer on a hot day.

The smell of coffee waking you in the morning.

The glow of candles at night.

The spice of good ginger beer.

The perfection of a Jaffa cake.

Blonde hair on the pillow next to me.

A hug at the end of the day.

And this: