The month is October. And I say no! to the indoor encapsulating cascade (but I am inside this cozy trendy coffee shop off 8th and I am not leaving). Rather I intend to say yes! to the roaring wind (duh, when I leave here), dried out things, and early onset pumpkin spice fatigue. I have already produced pumpkin mac and cheese once and I can rightfully appoint myself CHEESEMASTER extraordinaire. I too often proclaim as Flannary insists, "I am but a cheese, God. Make me a mystic." I like being a cheese some days, and wonder why Flannery thinks cheese and mystics serve better to be polarized. Either way, a mystic would question his art in being a cheese, as do I, but am not resistant enough to deflect such a dairy-ing claim. Bring it all on, AUTUMN, and persuade me to think I am wading heartily in both the transition of seasons as well as perspective.

I have been readily addicted to the Scumbag brain memes recently (well, again). Maybe the psyche tells us to be intrigued by the psyche, both succinctly and periodically (ARE WE NOT ALL BEING TROLLED BY THIS ORGAN?), but my fascination usually hones in when the brain is being fed well enough to think about itself ( that self-righteous bastard!). I have been chewing on Nietzche's words “Did you ever say yes to a pleasure? Oh my friends, then you also said yes to all pain. All things are linked, entwined, in love with one another.” Making decisions or even PLANS for the future that can affect your current state of being a human bean. To be continued...

Anyways, I bought a new notebook about a month ago in hopes of stirring the wrist again, hoping to evoke the lady penmanship to try fitting a new type of ship with me (aka friendship). The task of doing so is still daunting-- I am as frozen as an Edward Scissorhand sculpture and lacking its artistic prestige. But one can still hope. Here's to the challenge at hand and in the head.