Penance isn’t an object. Watching buffalo graze can be a service. Mind your lip excursions, though, because intense thoughts are fleeting, and they are usually gone before they’re remembered. Some thoughts are as empty as computer tower shells. Some aren’t. Pockets get picked; rutted bundles. Experiences sometimes get shunned. Light trails drape overtop filled dumpsters with so much overwhelming truth that the devil-low voices earthing out orders at other humans becomes background shit to your ears. Heather resin and concrete shoulders get pushed aside. Breathing under water and other ad nauseum absurdities fail, quickly. Harumph, monks. Drink up.
Life bleeds normalcy. Songs are sung; sometimes played; sometimes programmed. Maybe. Maybe, baby. Today/tonight, lift some memorable experience to your carcass noggin’, forget about the outside, and allow TCF’s to have his take on what it means to be human right below:
• TCF: https://soundcloud.com/t-c-f