RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who publishes zines & physical books & electronic books & music & photography & digital art & just generally whatever feels necessary to survive this deluded earth thru Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts survival systems (Version 69, establish 14 Feb 1973). Comments encouraged.

Friday, June 10

Friday Love/Hate

I hate dramatic individuals, bringing dramatic interpretations to every day affairs all too often. Seems like I've had a lot of them around me in recent years, allowed into my inner-circle of weekly experience, and I'm not sure why that is. Perhaps it's a character fault on my end, or a Universal Magnetism lesson I had to learn. But I've sworn it off, being straight up brutally forthright with some of these emotional tornadoes trying to toss up my good times with their nonsense. And I can't really say I hate it either, because people can't help how they are a lot of times. Most folks ain't honest with most other folks, but especially themselves. I'm trying to be straight up brutally forthright with myself more than anyone else, which is why I probably been pulling the curtain closed on them dramatic individuals, because I just don't need it, ya dig? Can't be raising no drama-free children unless my skull is a drama-free building. I want them getting old, thinking that straight up and from the heart is how it's always been.

I love feeling my flow grow - word flow, aura flow, life flow, luck flow, all of it flowing. I do find it notable that I floated on top of the river last weekend just as all my flows started ramping back up again, to where it overwhelms me and I can't even sleep because it's in zones like this where sleep is the most definite cousin of death. Hard to figure if floating on the river boosted me or I felt the need to get on the river magnetically because my flow and it's flow were out there being like, "Yo, what's up? Let's chill." I know most folks I know probably don't believe in a god, and I don't believe in one with one of the names that has bunches of people sitting down together to worship upon, but there's more to this thing than straight science can slice and dice explanations for. (Right as I typed that, sitting on a plastic adirondack in the back yard, there was a blast flash of lightning, and now the sky is rumbling; I can feel the cool blowing in... I wonder if science is vengeful and angry?) I ain't believing in now bearded old dude standing around in a king-sized top sheet and cloud flip flops, making sure everything is straight down here. But I also ain't believing it can all be explained by rational scientifical processes. Because a lot of it happens in strange and magical ways, and what I love is feeling myself be all up inside that strange magic right now, like riding a wave at the ocean, and that's what you gotta do is ride it, as far as it takes you. If it throws you under in the end and you're choking and gasping for a long minute, fuck it, the ride is gonna feel like it's worth it, while you're in the wave and just getting pushed along perfectly.

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