pink flamingos & marshmallows

it has been decided...the cessation of smoking is upon me.

heaven help all of us? nah, i have more sovereignty over my addiction than originally thought. it's just the cancer cells screaming at me "no!"

when my nicotinic receptors begin dumpster diving for their prey, i must remember strolling through the whit with the pink flamingos & marshmallows in the rain.

32, the magic number.
ration them.
savor them.
enjoy them while i can.

earnesty is the best policy

my universe has been ceremoniously shaken, not stirred, and thrown back into the newly convivial heap of my life. how does this happen at such a frantic and rapid pace and then come crashing down with all the ferocity of the hindenburg?

back up the yo-yo string...zip here we go!

gut instinct; i need to remember ubiquity and employ it. never has it failed me, but i have it.

let the heart go one last time, but in my orbit, wearing the proverbial trousers.

grey matter

even with many changes in my life as of late, i still reside in my head too much. call it classical conditioning - the only way i know how to cope. it has been that way for the last dozen years or so.

what to do, what to do?

I have the answer and just need to trust in it, let it all go, see what the hell happens, and not be so guarded. fortuitously my friends and loved ones are lenient with my many, many idiosyncrasies. and to you who comprehends me as well as yourself, danke and gracias.