2025.03
Morning journal entries from March 2025
Selfie Talk
2025.03.31
Monday, March 31, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
How’s it goin’ O/
Got your love flowin’?
Good.
On with our show.
...
Lots of daydreams for thoughts, spoken words to Abe, and the walls, this morning.
If you don’t talk to yourself, you’re missing out.
You’re also the bane of the whole human race.
Talk with yourself.
Get to language that best serves your singular you.
If you don’t know yourself, you can never truly know another.
You can never add only echo conversations.
Talk to you, with you.
Do it privately.
Talking to yourself in public is rude and strange and a bit crazed because there are so many other things to dialogue with.
Know yourself while you’re alive.
That means becoming friends with you.
Which means sharing words with what you are: alone.
It’s why so many have such a hard time falling asleep; they don’t know who they are and so there’s always a stranger in the room.
A stranger called themselves.
Hard to sleep with someone you don’t know staring at you.
Take care and tell yourself (alone somewhere, of course) to make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Drop. Poop. Sprint.
2025.03.30
Sunday, March 30, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Good to be read by you again. O/
Hope you slept well.
Words to write, magic to spell…
On with our show...
...
Abe’s hungrier, lately.
It’s Spring’s call to grow more.
Patches of strong sleep last night.
Wake for awhile, sleep for a few hours, wake for awhile.
My usual way just deeper sounder sleep.
Heavier dreams.
Deeper down weighted in the dark.
I spent most of my life surviving Life in daydreams.
I don’t sleep much; I don’t require it.
You probably realized this with all the up-hours-before-sunrise entries.
Perhaps there’s an overabundance of dreams? A quota reached?
With health I’m glad to be able to finally work, so I jump right in.
Abe’s used to it.
Checks I’m all right, checks his dog clock, rolls his eyes, rolls back to sleep.
This morning, he checked his food bowl.
My good friend, I fed him first.
There’s the peace of morning air absent most of the day that adds inspired comfort to the lines.
Daytime words prove points, direct characters, impress impress impress all dressed up in pay attentions and say what you means.
Morning lines sit by windows, anticipate the sunrise, want daylight to see what they said.
...
You have a dog; you know this.
Nothing weird here.
Leashless in a backyard, or park, or anywhere outside.
Sometimes your dog paces, paces, paces, stops, poops, looks left, looks right...
Races! And runs!
Happy tongue wags in the breeze.
I congratulate Abe and cheer!
Some crap is best to just drop and get as far away from as possible, as fast as possible.
There’s a poetic lesson in all things.
Even the: Drop. Poop. Sprint.
Of a dog.
Leave that crap behind you and move on.
The squeak toys aren’t going to play by themselves.
There’s work to be done!
Get over that, leave it behind and move on, your life’s not gonna live itself, take care and make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Forsooths!
2025.03.29
Saturday, March 29, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Hola. O/
How’s the day?
Shiny and bright a great delight?
Polished and grey not much to say?
Weathered, strong, and true just like you?
Snow remembers it’s Spring and turns to rain, slush puddles make sleet slopped shoes.
Hope all’s well.
On with the show.
...
Dreams planted long ago took root. Almost time to surface.
Spring calls for new Life, aids resurrections.
Got my poet get-descriptive pen on me today.
Moonbeams turn to daydreams; sunrise shows.
Our bodies rest and do their best at night to make dream deposits of the day to wherever we go when we die.
Got my poet wax-on on this morning.
Perhaps it’s the fertile soil finally thawed enough to put the rain right to work that calls for pregnant metaphors to spring alive.
Shoots shoot forsooths through the topsoil; similes like sunflowers sprout quick for Spring.
It’s sound.
Why AI can never craft a sentence as well as you or I.
Why AI can never sing a song, slide on a violin string, press a keyboard key as well as you or I.
It’s expression of the arrangement of the quantity of paint, the quality of loud and soft notes, the rhythm of each syllable that makes us necessary.
Each expression is in each endpoint.
The spirit in which each new mathematical proof is proved is proof the spirit reigns supreme.
What makes The Scientist want to measure is the measure of our lives.
Take care, wax poetic, wax scientific, wax a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Maybe; Happy
2025.03.28
Friday, March 28, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Smiles for breakfast. O/
Cool, comfortable, it’s going to be a nice day smiles.
Life’s actually pretty good smiles.
Add those to your bowl of cereal; they can float with the marshmallows.
“Why so optimistic this morning, Ghos+?”
- Inquisitive Groggy Reader
Sometimes it’s good to be positive on purpose. It helps to set it on auto-pilot.
Auto-pilot engaged.
On with our show.
Problematic Ecstatic: We view happiness as an endpoint, an ideal state.
But happiness is a temporary thing like a cool breeze in Summertime on a nice warm day.
A quick cool from the wind, then the nice warm day lasts and you’re glad and grateful for it.
Glad grateful is sustainable; happy is not.
Happiness shows for moments, checks in, cheers up, and back to glad for you.
Sunshine and happiness can’t last all day.
Grateful and glad to be, is our best state.
Let happy take care of itself, a present for a good life.
Even Abe occasionally out of nowhere dashes happy for a toy or stick and sprints circles around the backyard, then back to his regularly scheduled calm glad.
Maybe it’s a spontaneous dance step or two walking from one room to another.
Maybe a memory causes a smile.
Maybe a phone call from an old friend.
A little better than okay, that’s the best state to be in.
Sunrise caught up to Daylight Saving Time and returns at a respectable hour.
An old friend in some unfinished stories of mine is wondering why I haven’t checked in for awhile.
Maybe I’ll check in.
Take care, may a good maybe or two find you while you make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
A Bunch
2025.03.27
Thursday, March 27, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
¡Olé! O/
Up and at ‘em.
You got this.
Nobody is a better you than you.
Do your day proud, quiet, reserved or loud.
Do your best you.
Got out my motivational Ghos+ clichés to brighten your day and lift your spirit.
Hope all’s well. Do your best you.
Sunshine’s calling.
On with our show.
...
At some moment sometime ago, I looked at some book laying on some table and thought, “That’s just a bunch of sentences someone strung together.”
Chances are you’ve not had that thought. It’s a good helpful one.
Good helpful thoughts are a good helpful reason to have me around.
It’s a book: a bunch of sentences.
But, do this:
- Check your text message history as far back as you can.
- Check your online post history back to its origins.
A bunch of sentences.
A book called Your Life.
Watch your grammar.
Really.
Not in a stuffy-stuffy grammar gal kind of way.
No.
Your use of punctuation, even your emojis, say so much about you. 👻O/🌅
Staccato sentences with ‘quick emoji press sends’ added up, show a get-it-done life. Days spent in ‘go-go-go...’ an athlete with a daily planner text records look like that.
The more frequent your walls-of-text the more introspective you are, the more likely to be a reader you are too.
Chances are reading this means you’re the type of person with a good wall-of-text or two (thousand O/).
Hopefully you have a healthy mix of the two. There are staccato checklist tasks to do each day.
Dinner, laundry, etc. Care for you physical body stuff.
But there’s no reason to keep your physical body alive and well if you don’t have wall-of-text worthy meaningful moments.
If you’re a kinesthetically inclined person, this doesn’t mean sit-down and read a book (though it does wonders for your health).
No.
It is always better to dance than to run on a treadmill.
A dance is an athlete’s wall-of-text expression of moments.
...
Sun’s up.
By the window, Abe’s chin on the loveseat cushion… eyes open, fall, fall, slow fall… Awake! Just the wind, not a squirrel. Fall, fall, fall…
Me with dreams of what a life not spent fighting illness might be like.
How many words, deeds, and friendships never made?
What romance was lost?
What’s a world like where every spin doesn’t start with: Get well, then get to live.
Having won a war how to grieve one’s whole life lost to win it?
But the Sun’s up and it is wonderful.
Whoever, whatever, planned it that way; it is beautiful.
Maybe I gained what so many lost or never knew is required for a good life: Appreciation.
Remission, the word makes me laugh.
Like you have another chance to live your dream’s mission for a good life.
Here’s to my chance. O/
Take care, appreciate your time, and make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Superpower Daydreams
2025.03.26
Wednesday, March 26, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Hello. O/
Back to sing-songing the sunrise.
Well… vocal exercises at least; it’s still hours away.
Hope all’s well with you my attentive reader extraordinaire.
If not, get over that. You deserve the best.
On with our show...
...
Loud, positive daydreams; page words go slow.
Time wants writing about. And color. And writing. And dreams. And a sleepy hound on a loveseat.
Choppy, listy, sentences morning. Still early, though. Cohesion comes with persistence.
What about superpowers? That’s always a good topic.
What would you choose? Any power at all, what would you choose?
Invisibility? Super-strength? Telepathy? Healing? Mind-reading? Magic?
Of course, to bring up magic brings in the question: Which type?
Dark? 🖤 Light? 💡 Healing? 🩹 Elemental? 🔥 Necromancy? ☠️😱
You can tell a lot about a person based on what superpower they’d choose.
Words and what words can do. Healing. Maybe some elemental for fun; for my choices.
There’s love, but that’s just choice and surrender and trust. Not magic. There’s nothing realer than Love.
Two persons deciding to create a new life, be it a shared story of days, or a new story to make new stories called a child.
What it feels like to make something new with someone, something else.
I write something else because we can love, and should, our work.
O/ Like me.
I hope my love for making sentences comes through for you as you read.
Do what you love, have what you love, be with what gives you love in a way that feels like love to you.
^ That’s good ghostly advice. ^
...
Highway traffic picks up. Third shift shifts to first.
A long morning of daydreams.
Sunshine still sometime away.
Maybe you don’t daydream enough.
Maybe somewhere you heard it was a bad idea to.
Maybe where you heard it was a miserable place.
Maybe you should consider the source.
Try it out.
Pick a quiet place.
You might talk to yourself or a wall or two, so it’s best to be alone.
Don’t force it. See what dreams and thoughts come.
Write them down if that’s comfortable.
Remember you’re alive and that’s about dreams and doing dreams.
If you don’t know this, you’re following someone else’s dream of what Life is about.
That’s a waste of you.
Don’t waste you.
Dream a day beautiful for you and live it, take care, and make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
A Recognizable Place
2025.03.25
March 25, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Something I wrote another day, as today's morning entry went a little too personal.
The whole world is alive with spirit if you remember how to look.
Long ago, long before you were born, someone told someone a curious thing:
"Maybe spirit isn't in that."
And so, we stopped putting our dreams of spirit in all things.
But spirit feeds on dreams, so spirit starved.
Only sparks of light for so long where firework infernos used to be seen.
Only a few brave souls allowed themselves to remember.
It drove them to quiet places to be alone with that light unseen, but so easy to know if looked for.
Our own spirit needs to recognize spirit in all things.
The way the body needs water, though it is made of water, it needs spirit because it is made of spirit: First.
Dehydrated leads a sickly life.
Starving for spirit crawls instead of flies.
Those who felt the emptiness the greatest fell into small dented voids called depressions.
They starved for spirit and began to eat their own.
Loneliness followed... and in their loneliness they fed new dreams to their old dreams and built dreams so full of spirit there was no recognizable place available to share them.
The one secret every person tucked away in a depression had was: living there was the only time they felt right.
While sparks of barely imitable light sparked in all things they sat, doors closed, eyes in a daze for days, ingesting their own spirit, not knowing it was fire, the fire necessary to reignite The World's.
+he Ghos+
Wynn
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🎆fireworks
🎹
Stubborn Frisbee Friend Squirrel
2025.03.24
Monday, March 24, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
¿Qué pasa in your casa?
¿Spanglish for breakfast with your té o café?
Anyway, on with our show...
...
Glad Ghost and Dapper Abe here. O/
A dog is happy by default. This morning though, Abe’s usual, "You’re up already?” eye roll is replaced with an: “Open the door. Time to get the squeaky toy squirrel!” glee.
The toy squirrel.
The infamous one.
Wrapped in a frisbee circle of braided rope, made especially to withstand the efforts of ‘aggressive chewers’.
Abe is not aggressive; he’s effective.
He’s a big guy, around 90 pounds.
Most squeakies don’t stand a chance.
An average squeaker lasts no more than a few hours after I give it to him.
Stubborn frisbee squirrel is going on a year.
He revisits it from time to time.
It stands out from the rest surrounded by a circle of braided rope.
Perhaps the squirrel stays safe the way witches make a circle of salt around themselves for protection.
Perhaps it’s nice to have one reliable friend to count on regardless how loud you may disagree and toss them away, at times.
You know you both do it because, at best, you make life a more enjoyable place for each other.
Old friends can so often be such stubborn squeaky toys.
Because they care for your well-being sometimes more than you do.
You do neglect yourself now and then, so focused on doing the right thing, the good thing, for people; you forget you’re a ‘people,’ too.
Sometimes it’s a good idea to take a timeout with an old friend and run-around the backyard or sit and do nothing near the turned off television.
A reliable, dependable, old friend no matter how far apart, regardless if you tossed them across the yard and never went to fetch them, is always there.
Even for a three in the morning phone call or sprint into the backyard... so happy you’re still there for comfort and understanding.
Take care, reach out to an old friend, give ‘em a squeak, and make a better day.