one thing today

  ... is a complex tic that involves the involuntary utterance of obscene words or phrases. It's a symptom of Tourette syndrome, but only affects about 1 in 10 people with the condition.  I watched the premiere of a show call Baylen Out Loud . She is 21, beautiful, smart with four cool brothers and a very protective sister. Her parents are lovely, worried, good looking, full tilt accepting. She has a great bf who is unbelievably caring and light. He never phones it in. I envy the family  .

 ... this is how I felt yesterday. my first self portrait and, sadly, there's a likeness.  

  I cried this afternoon watching Dylan at Newport ’63 thru ’65 - and I’m not sure why. Not sure which why I should say. So much time passing. So many beautiful words. Gone sharing faces and places connected to them. The clarity, simplicity, superlativity of the art. Him young and smart and rare. Striking of the guardians and protectors of the minds and new mornings and wild cathedral evenings. His mouth harp. Wonder. What’s to come. Outlaws chained and cheated by pursuits. This now pancake world of ours full of weakening freedom flashing - less and less, sky falling dark dim. Every word pouring out of his lips is knife sharp and heard and has perfect right to. He’s proud of them and shares them with everyone who wants them. Ancient empty streets too dead for dreaming. Stripped senses, boot heels wandering, dancing spells, no fences facing - exciting future life just ahead and ready for everyone.  O more than half century if only musings.  

  January Robert Bridges 1844 – 1930 Cold is the winter day, misty and dark:    The sunless sky with faded gleams is rent: And patches of thin snow outlying, mark    The landscape with a drear disfigurement. The trees their mournful branches lift aloft:    The oak with knotty twigs is full of trust, With bud-thronged bough the cherry in the croft;    The chestnut holds her gluey knops upthrust. No birds sing, but the starling chaps his bill    And chatters mockingly; the newborn lambs Within their strawbuilt fold beneath the hill    Answer with plaintive cry their bleating dams. Their voices melt in welcome dreams of spring,    Green grass and leafy trees and sunny skies: My fancy decks the woods, the thrushes sing,     Meadows are gay, bees hum and scents arise. And God the Maker doth my heart grow bold    To praise wintry works not understood, Who all the worlds and ages doth behold,   ...

  I love how stupid the Golden Globes are. Zoe Saldana cries desert dry conceptual tears.   Women look more bulimic than ever.   Successions Jeremy Strong wore the most ree dick mint green felt bucket hat above his ree dick mint green suit. He’s all over the Internet but I can’t ... sigh ... copy all the ree dick pics for you here. Catherine O Hara and Seth Rogan for some bad reason agreed to do three mins of ree dick stand up. Jodie Foster was pure intelligent class. Harrison Ford again looks like his staggeringly bored self. Winners walk by texting folks as they approach the stage. Talk about bouncing back. Harvey Weinsteins x wife is now Aiden Brodys baby doll. Baby Reindeers creator really received 41,000 emails from his very real stalker.  

                   Make me one with everything.