Stress. Bless. Bless you. 1-2. Buckle my shoe. I love that the Angels are always on standby – I heard one writer describe Archangel Michael as a jock, and another one likes chocolate. They’re just like us, you guys.
Self-imposed stress. I’ll believe it. Like the stories we tell ourselves – unfortunately when you don’t talk to someone or connect with them for a long time – there are a lot of story gaps to fill. I’m really good at making a million false assumptions when I don’t hear from someone in a long time. Now I know I can ask the Angels for help connecting with that person or those people.
Hot Line Bling has infamously appeared as unwanted ear pollution – by Drake… he started to gain fame while I was living in Toronto. That’s where I learned he never started from the bottom now he’s here. He started from the upper-middle class now he’s mediocre. What a guy.
Okay, let’s transmute this weird anger for Drake to something worthy of my time – jeez – how many corrals do I have back there?
Write. Right. Right whale. Do right whales only turn right? Are they always making the right decision? Are they the most righteous of the whales? [ Insert apology to readers here]. What am I on about?
Stress. Avoidance. Resistance. In the distance. A winding road littered with potholes kicks up dust on the back windshield faster than the wiper can clear it. Futility. Displacement. Travelling for miles, or Canadian kilometres, only to end up in the same spot. Some theorize that time folds in on itself.
where rivers are born 