Saturday August 25
These are the "dog days," in Florida. If the climate was still the least bit historical in it's makeup this would not be the dog days of August. Florida suffers through the global fluctuations of "everything." I truly think that Florida is like a thermometer, barometer, hygrometer, from which can be studied how incredibly screwed this planet is. We can't predict anything in this state today. There was a time that one who lived in this state could depend on at least one thing, the weather. Warm and relatively dry in your Winter, a stormy Spring, the least predictable season here, a hot wet stormy Summer that might last until Christmas, so much for fall, it comes in February when the last of the Live Oak leaves fall.
But that has all changed. Winters now can be devastating in their intensity and duration, seemingly beginning in October, and not ending until the end of March. The wetness of Spring that kept Florida green until the daily rains of Summer that protected the flora from scorch through October, has been replaced by drought, resulting in wildfire that may last until July when the first afternoon showers begin, and shortly thereafter end. We no longer believe in the traditional hurricane. We now look for the Freak that stalks in the fringes of a previously normal tropical convergence zone. The weather is screwed, the currents are screwed, all taking place now, on "this Planet". Please help the planet remember itself, before everything forgets, or is forgotten.
August 26 2001
How pointless it is to dwell on the pointless. Yet it seems to be an activity that some of us just can't get enough of. Now that's pointless. What is it about gut wrenching anxiety, that we allow it to consume us, consume me? Why does the knot look impossible to untie in the time remaining. Why is fear running rampant around the planet?
September 11, 2001
Today changed. Tomorrows are never to be the same. I have been waiting, knowing this might be. For a moment I was violated, the gods'work now starts the mystery. These are Gods works; and in league they point to the rapture that has brought us here on the center of the center. Gods care not for our trifling pain. We are begotten, each and every one of us, in a pain that women care not to describe. Who are we trying and who or what is trying us, this could open the damn,.......no.. blow it off the face of this arrested planet. Can we ever accentuate the positive? If not we are already gone!...... maybe not forever..., its up to us?
