All right, Spirits.
We need to have a talk while the veil is thin. We need help. There’s some bad shit going down, and we’re not equipped to deal with all of it. Truth,— we’ve never excelled as a species at big picture issues. And the big picture filters down to the small picture and,— you can see where this goes. Surely you see it from your vantage point.
We need your help. The leaves turn and so do we in this wild autumn. This skittish heartbeat fractal and confused, cosmic descended into the discosmic, discordant and alive still, survival and death untethered from the center that no longer holds,— but of course it does, slouching in the remnants of our dust waiting to be born. These stolen words. Yeats said it better.
We would appreciate any help. The leaky roof would be a good place to start. A working roof is cosmic, as you know. At any rate, please enjoy yourselves tonight as is your due. But it feels like a new year is starting early, so let’s keep the connection,— we’ll be reaching out for your favor, your wisdom. For your strength — we could use a jolt. And your joy. Yes, joy. We will share ours with you. Solid trade.
Regards. Happy Halloween.
p.s. I feel a little better already.