i am pretty certain that when i cash my chips in at the casino of karmic retribution, all the good will be undone by one bad: i did not share my apple pie.
i was a bit apprehensive going to the nets last night. i was solo, relegated to everything that occurs when one owls: collection, measurements, documentation, vigilence, release.
but mercifully, there was a lull, a calm before what will surely be the next storm. eleven swets in 3 hours. i was in bed by midnight. asleep. waiting for the rem, fibrillating moment when i dream i have left my nets open.
that dream seems to be recurring for me. my former recurring dream was being locked in a room at the astroglide factory with catherine zeta jones. now all i get is “i have left the nets open,” and let me tell you, that ain’t quite the same.
the week is looking to be perfect for owling. cold, clear, and calm. perfect. one night of respite and i am ready for the next push. the next frenzied evening when i intrinsically know “it’s on.”
it’ll be crazy again and again and again. just like my dreams.
good night, catherine.