THOUGHTS in The Morning.

I READ. Read read read. And jot down notes. In New York subway, airport lounge, or Greyhound coach—I read. In the bathroom, I read. In a Vegas bingo social, I read. When I was little, and I read news or heard it on radio or dad told me this and that, I’d go read more to recheck if those are BS or not. I am still that “kid.” The only way to learn, relearn, and unlearn is to keep on reading. 📰📚📰

IN the past, I used to shrug off talks of “emotional support animal” as prescribed by mental health professionals. Those were the years when I used to walk rich people’s dogs in West Central Park in New York City as backup income to writing/editing. I didn’t realize how valuable those dogs were to their “mom and dad.” Until I co-existed myself with dogs and a cat. Without them, I don’t know. No pills, no meds, no therapy. But no Arrow and Cyd? I don’t know. 🐕💓🐈

I AM an old dude. I had hospital "adventures" as well. Wear and tear to a hyper spirit. But I have never felt healthier since a 2000 surgery in New York. I was offered a choice: Medication or surgery. Surgery! After the knife "gig," I moved to the mountains, cooked food, worried less, cushioned the drama with love poetry each night. Those are my "meds." The most body irritation I get in the last 4 years is pollen allergy, that's it. Did I just make myself clear? 🦐🦋🐙

PINK it! Decades ago, it was Yellow. And so Pink! floods the Philippines these days as the opposition gears up for May 2022 national election. New prez! As I told a friend per my wicked pragmatism, election is election. Most often, it is a popularity game or contest of numbers. But I’d like to read the program platform vis a vis current pressing issues. In politics, I don’t care about faces, parties, and colors. Though I obviously dig the color Pink. Uh huh. 🐙🦑🦐

DAMP earth of new birthing. Falling leaves offer a bed of reflection. Seasons in the heart, the evolution of the spirit. Until we age, with thousands worth of mileage of experience aching on our back as reminder, we don’t ruminate nature like this. Environmental activism isn’t about political narcissism. It is all about appreciation of life itself. In ruins, we see lessons; in blooming, we see hope. And then we take care of ourselves as one community. 🦋🍁🐓

AS I take babedawgs Arrow and Riley do their morning bathroom ritual in the backyard, Fall time’s wilted dryness remind me of coming Winter froze. But this giant taro-like plants are still alive. Plus a few flowers. Yet seasons, nature’s seasons do influence how “seasons within us,” mental/emotional state, ebb and flow—especially in these “isolated” days. Tough mostly. But then as long as doggies like Arrow stays hyper-active, ruffling my days no end, life stays alive and well. ?✍️👀

IMPLOSION, the phantom danger that scares me more than the virus. Humanity’s mental state. Good, memory of the past—good or bad—offers some light because we got basis for comparison how to live amidst the scourge. A vinyl and old book purchase at Goodwill is joy. Greens and flowers rest to give way to froze but the Goddess stays to keep earth alive. White and blonde right now (LOL!) but no added meaning to that. That’s what I saw and bought at Goodwill Outlet. It looks good, too! ?✍️👀

THE coming froze. Autumn decay to more winter of our discontent? I hope not. The yard gives way to falling leaves, zip line’s frolic mutes, yellowjackets have left, and I plucked the last flowers of summertime color. I try to capture nature’s color on my art studies and a few canvasses and sketchbooks. Hoping these will light the dark, uncloud the haze. But then, drama! The Bee Gees and the babedawgs and koolcat always come to the rescue! ✍️👀✍️

WELL-meaning and dear friends ask, am I okay? Am I sad? Well, I am no superdude. I got drama as well. I drink a glass of wine and a shot of Jim Beam at night. Or two PBRs. My daily consumption limit. Then there’s sports TV, Netflix et al, lovable babedawgs and a koolcat. But my drama stays. No need to share TMIs. Boring. In Zimbabwe, vaccines aren’t so available. In Haiti right now? Google it! In Afghanistan, they hope for light amidst the dark. At least war is over. My personal drama? What drama? Wanna talk about paella? 

MY slumbertime dreams are episodes of relentless activity. Almost the reverse of my waking-hours reality of relative inertia. My dreams are mostly interfaces of my past life in the Philippines when mom was still alive and America, pre-Covid. Life in color albeit in usual dreamscape incoherence. So when I open my eyes finally, I feel mentally tired yet physically motivated. My life’s drama stays but a new set of energy ensues. For more written words, more colors on canvas. More healing. ?✍️👀

MOST of the time, I am already awake hours before I climb out of bed. Somehow, that ritual adapts with the dogs’ “morning” schedule, LOL! I usually spend an hour or two fiddling about and reading through my Homepage. I’d like to know what others are thinking. This morning, I also spent time on the front porch, sketching. Hips and breasts. ?✍️👀