cognac talking

I am sipping cognac, Remy Martin XO. It is cold this evening, and it is warming me to the point that I even have a pleasant buzz. I haven't decided on dinner yet. I'll probably cook tortellini and toss it with butter and grated parmesan and grape tomatoes. I've just gotten in from hearing Wilma Mankiller and a few other guests speak on Tribal soverenity and other issues. It was interesting--it created more questions for me than answers for me, but then, I'm inquisitive. And my mind makes intuitive leaps that lead to more questions. My mind moves so fast, so fast.... I run laps around most people, and when it is not running, it is delving intuition and the Big Unknowables. My mind is more insatiable than my libido. Usually, I understand that it is the questions themselves that are important, not the answers.

More cognac, definately buzzing now.

Ah yes, cognac talking... here, witness this fluid lucidity.. Can I reach you there, in your bunkered life, touch your soul via cosmic strings? Pluck them, make them sing, and in resonance remember... remember what all have forgotten? The human soul needs storm and fire and dizziness. I understand that now. There is no going backwards. The body has time... it moves slowly and prudently in obedience to the laws of gravity... But the soul! Ah the soul! It brushes time and laws aside, it rests in the quantum foam. It wants to push forward, regardless of the cost in pain, or intoxication, or madness. Perhaps we are one and the same, where souls touch, hearing that soundless roaring voice, which, before creation, before the liberation of words from isolated minds, contained all possibility, all form and matter, joy and defeat, lust and satiety. It is where souls touch that separation is reconsiled, where all that is fashioned is seen for illusion. Life is that which battles entropy, and Love that force of miraculous beauty that bares all to eyes incapable of being deceived.