I am clean and you are (probably) not ;)

The Five Stages Of Bush...

Denial.
Anger.
Bargaining.
Depression.

Acceptance?

(Sing it, Stu.)

For anybody who hasn't peeped Fuad's latest post, I strongly urge you to take a gander: http://fuism.blogspot.com/2004/11/election-reflections.html

I hate it that I don't blog more regularly, but I tend to be an all or nothing, extremist kind of chic--moderation just don't float my boat. I cruise by other people's blogs, and they're content to post these pithy little offerings which nevertheless pack quite a punch, like, thank you for visiting my crib, now that I've enlightened you, get the fuck out, get a life, and have a nice day. But no, El Loquacious Inebrianto must run on ad infinitum, like you people have nothing better to do than read my drivel, like my life is just sooooooooooo sexy the porno people are just clamoring to install video cameras in my laundry room coz me chucking wet clothes in the dryer is just so hot that it's fit for pay per view.

Speaking of hot, or trying to retain some semblance of it, I've been doing the gym thing before work rather than after, which means I'm arising at 7:00 am. I've seen some amazing skies on my way to the hell that is the stairmaster, and I'm making sure not to mar the pre-cardio serenity with the insertion of i-tunes into my ears. The immediate imposition of sound that soon after waking is a subtle violence to my soul, so until my body kicks into high gear I savor the silence that's just beginning to crack open as the world pecks itself awake out of it's sleeping shell.

My brief hiatus from the cushion is over. It feels good to be back. I'm actually finding that I'm wanting to sit for far longer than I have time for, like, um, Brand, get your ass up and go brush and floss your teeth--it's imperative if you want to keep your friends. (Who would have thought that sitting could ever preempt my hygiene rituals which are so regimented as to practically qualify as compulsions?)

Can I just be really offensive here and say how disgusting I find the average person's idea of personal hygiene? People, do you really think your teeth can be adequately brushed in three minutes? Do you really think that flossing is optional? (Ewwwww!) Do you understand that sliding a bar of slippery soap under your armpits for ten seconds does not qualify as sanitizing your shit? (ABRASION people--it's the key to clean.) And don't get me started on the oft overlooked areas--elbows, knees, between your toes, behind your ears, under your fingernails, for god's sake. And is it really necessary for me to tell you that yes, your butthole needs special attention, and girls, if you want to get what you're giving (and all who don't understand the reference need read no further), take a clue and realize that the Golden Palace's inner sanctum needs reburbishing, and not just it's facade (this would include the shrubbery).

Okay, rant over. That was harsh, I know, but it's for your own good.

It's grandly, gorgeously beautiful here today. The trees are still clinging to the last of their leaves and the sky is that deep, unperturbed blue that arises only after harvest has ended and the earth seems to somehow settle into it's orbit. Even though it's perfectly dry in the valley (and the temperature's tolerable at 61 degrees), the mountains are covered in snow and when the sun sets this evening the mountains will blush a brilliant pink. (Have you witnessed this phenomenon? Do you live in place where you know that snow reflects the colors of sunset? It's one of the most beautiful sights you'll ever see.)

I dreamed the other night that I was in the ocean swimming in rough waters not far beneath the surface. I came up for air at the dock and Genpo Roshi was there. He showed me how to dive deep, far beneath the commotion of the waves, and "spotted" me as I dived into the water. Needless to say, I found this dream very significant. Looking forward to sitting with him again on Sunday...