Maybe Heaven is Supposed to be this Planet
Maybe Heaven is supposed to be this Planet. This is the butterfly that’s going to carry me home, and this is the trash I’m going to pick up later, I hope.
Maybe Heaven is supposed to be this Planet. This is the butterfly that’s going to carry me home, and this is the trash I’m going to pick up later, I hope.
Risk is part of farmin/run with it weirdness. “I’m going to go for the trash I see on the Horizon and then hopfully I’ll be able to run.”
Material–it’s not material–but if material is a holographic projection onto a 3D record player–onto a 3D record player–then what are we but little bits on the record? Goodness is not a centrifuge. Everything is everywhere.
“I was thinking about making a Brady Bunch video and that way everyone could be a bohemian. And we could all play… bohemian.”
Premiere (or première, from the French première, meaning “first”) of the broken zipper puppet: “I am going to have all my elephants do pirouettes and from now on they have to balance balls on their noses.”
“We like to say that the ideals have no basis in scientific reality. But actually, they are here, a priori.” Puppet decides 90% of stuff is a bowl of spaghetti, 9.5% of stuff is good stuff, and .5% of stuff is bad stuff.
Puppet rescues damsel in distress, talks to dead squirrels about kitty cats, rescues a worm, acknowledges fringe thoughts.
Puppet wants more “me time,” decides to become a cougar, encounters car fire & muses over its character, karma & truth.