2025.03
Morning journal entries from March 2025
Eclectic Electric
2025.03.23
Sunday, March 23, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
… to start a day.
O/ How goes it?
How flows it? \O
Don’t you knows it’s
Up to you how you do?
So, get doing your best you.
Pep-talk coffee prep done,
Let’s have some fun.
On with the show...
...
You don’t talk with your friends about the same things, with the same emotions, all the time; of course, this journal is eclectic.
Eclectic Electric.
Ghosts and electricity go together; it’s where we live.
Electricity ends in city for a reason.
A spooky one. Not because it’s fright worthy, because it’s ghost worthy.
Everything ghostly is spook worthy even literary redundancy. A spooky ghost is a humany person.
Onto the next...
...
Another most of the Country is still asleep morning.
Sometimes you fall asleep early and wake up early.
I don’t mind. It’s more easy comfort time for working.
We all have times we work best. Earlier than early mornings for me.
I find my best writing comes consistently more in the dark.
Goes with the whole ghost theme, too.
Boo.
...
On The Site: Deep thoughts, talks on Abe, sunrise descriptions, how the light paints each sky, AI, what dreams are for, writing, music, art, art, Art, nothing to say something in a post-modern portrait, music (said that already but you can never have enough).
You can never have enough music, love, and the words that sustain them.
...
Abe still asleep on the loveseat; what a dog dreams.
Still a few hours before sunrise; what dreams the light brings.
Still words on a page; what songs syllables sing.
I hope life treats you well and you return the favor.
Take care whatever topic the day brings, treat Life and yourself well, and make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Ghost, Ironic
2025.03.22
Saturday, March 22, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
How’s the day? O/
Pictures of your life matching your dreams?
AI prompts based on other people’s expectations of your life producing failed feedback to get in the way of actual you?
As AI gets more prevalent we have to start having more conversations on identity and the morality of the internet.
We must not forget or belittle the importance of physical touch in our lives. Sight, sound, taste, and smell are as much a part of who you are as the sights and sounds of online that seek to represent you.
An internet thumbprint can never replace the physical touch and presence of you.
Breath to breath, body near body, eye to eye is always the best way to know someone. It is the foundation of any true personal relationship.
Internet business is for the internet. Life is for living and that means touch and air and the present of presence.
To be complete any personal relationship has to, from time to time, share the same sense of place.
If you never looked a person directly in the eye, shared the same air, you can never truly know them.
Image devoid of substance is a step removed from life and so lacks in experience.
That common saying after a friend relays a memory to you with an excited voice and the words fail to communicate their experience, “Guess you had to be there,” is the true experience of most of our online relationships.
An online portrayal of ourselves leaves a poor trail of evidence to portray who and what we actually are.
These words ironically from a writer with the avatar +he Ghos+.
Can you ever, regardless how refined and original they may be, truly know me through these words?
No.
But you can know me better.
I could post image after image of myself on this site, but the pictures would no more represent me than the AI generated ones I use in every post.
An image that a man in his 40’s, about 6’3’’, with eyes as blue as the skies he sings sits here scribbling these words to you, can only be a representative of the humbly handsome charismatic guy I am.
Not me, myself.
Should we meet on any street after you’ve read me you know me better by my words.
My words and images are not me; they are an expression of me. An expression called my ghost.
I’ve been writing for a long time and know myself and my views well. How I imagine life comes through in a clear original way.
AI can’t emulate me because only I make me.
Same as you.
AI can’t write a symphony like Beethoven if Beethoven never existed.
AI can’t write like Wynn without O/ me.
The drive and purposed spirit of Beethoven is in every note.
My drive and spirit is in each word here. It comes through in every syllable.
I worked hard so it could. I bring all the sincere truth of my thoughts and imaginings to every sentence, so you can best sense my meanings.
To create a story, a film, a song using another's image is to make a lie.
It is not Art. It is a bastardization of Art.
It can be a tool to help you better understand your craft, but it can never express any experience of your true self. Except, perhaps, your willingness to use another for your own personal gain.
To say a picture, story, poem, or song is your own using another artist’s work is the work of a coward scared to share their own experience in a clear unique way.
Unless the experience they’re attempting to express is the theft of another’s work to make a profit for themselves.
Art imitates life not art.
We genuinely express ourselves to share our experience to enrich yours, to help you not feel so alone, to give you new language to understand your own life; write your own story of you, paint your own picture of you, sing your own song of you.
There’s much more to be said regarding sincerity and morality in the Age of AI.
The conversation must begin with the Spirit. We have to get practical talking about soul if we’re to stay true to the purpose of living a good honest life.
What purpose is having a name if another can steal it for their own personal greed?
What purpose is having a body if another can contort the image of it online for their own childish shouts for attention to cover up their fear to share anything genuine from their own personal heart?
This is a main topic of discussion for me. There’s a lot more to say.
Standing up for the power of the spirit, for the reality of the Ghost in each of us, is part of my life’s work.
My name, like every poets word, is no coincidence.
In this AI Age someone’s got to have our spirit’s back.
Join me, be true to you the best you can with what today has to offer, be your story of you intentionally, take care, and make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
XD
2025.03.21
Friday, March 21, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Hola, hello.
Vamos, let’s go.
On with our show. O/
...
What do you think of emoji?
Cute? Helpful? A throw-back shout-out to Egyptian hieroglyphic helpfulness?
The warmest people use them. 😊
Huggers. 🤗
The more emoji a texter uses the better the chance when you see them you’re getting a hug.
If you want one, of course. 🆗
A random act of hugging does not a hug make.
Walking up to a stranger and giving them a hug is not a hug.
It stopped being a hug at the word stranger. 🚷
At least send the person an emoji before the embrace. 👍
“Hug, OTW.” 🏃🤗
Incoming embrace. Prepare for contact.” 🏃♀️🤗
I still prefer the text based to the picture kind. :D
Words are my jam 🍯🎵, after all. XD
Is an emoji a word? 🤔
A good question for a deep-thought poet to answer.
Lucky for you. O/ <– The circle-slash is my favorite, BTW. 🌊😄
🧠Definition: Emoji are universal human expressions.
Regardless of the language you speak we can communicate with them.
The whole world speaks Emoji! \O/
For example:
What about a poem purely put in emoji images?
Let’s see... how about a picture of a typical morning.
We'll call it:
✍️🌅✍️☀️✍️🌞
🥱☕😄
🚶🐶🌄
💩🚯👍
🏠🥞🍽️
🔑💼👋
🚗🗨️📱
🚗🚗🚗
🏢😅🤑
✍️ +👻+
Emoji... hieroglyphic hoopla or something for archeologists centuries from now to discover on the pyramid walls of our memory cards in junkyards and attempt to decipher? 🦕🦴💻😕❓
Wonder if while decoding it they’re overcome with the inevitability of an incoming hug from history? 🏃🦖🤗
There is a good chance they get one, too.
A ghostly one at the very least.
Hopefully you have at least a friend or two to emoji hug you to remind you should you ever want to step away from your computer, you always have a welcomed warm embrace available.
Take care, emoji or real world hug a friend , (not a stranger, that’s not a hug 😕), and make a ☺️😂😀day.
+👻+
Harmony
2025.03.20
Thursday, March 20, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Happy Birthday! 🍰🎁🥂🍀
Spring!
What’s old dies and begins anew.
How’d you do?
The real first day of the year.
All clear.
Greener days ahead.
Grow babies grow,
On with our show.
Peace.
Somewhere there’s a place free from all the dissonance.
Where tuning forks are tossed out and recycled into something useful.
A place called Harmony. Where music sounds easy, everyday, all the time a song called 'Just the Way of Things'.
Pick up a one-way ticket and meet me there.
We can dance, sit, stare at the sky in a symphony hall called today.
...
Quite a morning for Abe and I, the tenants across the street playing good guys/bad guys with law enforcement.
Followed by a house search game of hide and seek.
Boys with their toys like to make self-
Important noise and war and money.
There’s never one without the other.
Boys, toys, noise, war, and money.
There is never one without the other.
If there’s a problem in your life,
You can always trace it back to:
Boys, toys, noise, war, and money.
Men are for tools, calm, peace, and trade.
There are too many boys where men belong.
If there’s something wrong in your day and you just can’t figure out why, now you know.
There are too many boys where men should be.
And they’d be there too, as soon as it pays to do good.
As soon as we recognize and agree it should.
Until then it’s:
- Boys,
- Their toys,
- Their noise,
- Their war,
- Their money,
to damn the progress of the human race.
...
Abe back on the loveseat, words back on the page.
Hope your day goes well. If it takes a lot to make it so, now you know why.
Take care, raise a man, love a man, recognize a man, and make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Road Trip
2025.03.19
Wednesday, March 19, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
How’s it hangin’?
Boogie slangin’?
Any which way it goes, yo,
On with our show. O/
...
Vernacular Spectacular, the words we choose define us by the arrangement of parts.
It’s not the size of your vocabulary that determines your success with language. The shape of your word choices do.
We can always learn new words. And should.
Our means to express ourselves grows when we do, so the richness of our experience of life grows too.
But you can win every game of Scrabble and still have a hum-drum life if your ability to arrange your words to best suit your experience is lacking.
A poet always uses the correct word for the content conveyed.
The most impressive word is always the one that leaves the best impression on the reader of the sentiment being shared.
Like lyrics, or lack of lyrics, the arrangement shapes the rhythm of our language to express our point.
A road trip in a car cranking Hip-Hop is a different experience than one blaring Beethoven.
The company you keep and your destination, how you want that company to feel once you reach where you’re going, should dictate your choice of beats, yo.
Comfort comes first.
A trustworthy narrator is a writer’s car you want to get in.
The trip is always enjoyable; the author is good company.
They picked out a few great sights to see along the way.
You want the writer to take the backroads; the trip is always enjoyable.
The journey matters at least as much as reaching the destination.
Because the journey, for you, is part of the experience of the destination.
It’s in your personal definition of the place reached.
This is why it’s always good to have good company to travel with: Your understanding of life is changed when you change your experience of it.
Hopefully these morning excursions on +he Ghos+ Train Express add something positive to the experience of your day.
Wonder, if you keep reading, is why you keep reading: I sing wonder.
In a world so set on numbers and binary lights to dictate days, I’m a sunrise reminder of the sunrise.
Take care, listen to yourself and some music, wonder how they’re the same thing, get in tune, and make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
13 Seconds
2025.03.18
Tuesday, March 18, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Happy Halloween!
¿Qué?
Everyday is Halloween for a ghost.
Trick or Treat.
How about a tricky treat?
Good name for a Hip-Hop artist: Tricky Treat.
Maybe I’ll incorporate it.
Singer of the number one hit: “Boo-ya, Bae.”
Whatever music you listen to today hope it brings you joy.
On with our show...
...
An old philosophical question I think on at times to keep wonder alive and strong in my Life:
“What if everything you know was created 13 seconds ago?"
All your memories and dreams, you yourself, everything.
How would you know?
What’s identity and Science but a shared memory of our identity and Science?
Life feels worthwhile. Every action we make depends on our faith in our feeling that it matters.
Reality feels real and that is the only true answer we can ever utter as to why we persist.
Matter feels like it matters, so we keep our shared dream going.
The Sun rises on phone screens and celestial space; whose to say the actuality is any different?
Perhaps we’re all just binary bits on Heaven’s big screen TV.
“But we can count and measure things, Wynn.”
For the past 13 seconds you could, at least.
We do the best we can with the dream we have right now because it feels like it matters that we do.
Our faith in our dream that anything is real at all because we feel it is, is all we can ever know for sure.
You matter, your loved ones matter, your dog, and even Science matter because you believe they do.
To be alive is to be in a perpetual state of wonder or the denial of wonder.
Gratitude to be able to reaffirm your dream of each moment, to make worthwhile experiences to sense that dream, is a foundational first step to living a good life.
Take care of yourself, try some philosophy, realize you only matter because you feel like you do, wonder where that feeling comes from, call it divine and make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Pays
2025.03.17
Monday, March 17, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day. 🍀
Rain, rain, go away?
No. Stay. Spring is on the way.
Easy rhyme time, fun with language, and something to rhyme with language.
O/ My circle-slash wave to welcome you back.
Hope life treats you well, meets you well, meets your expectations, exceeds your expectations, hope your expectations are miracles.
On with our show...
...
Something about the rain that slows things down.
Sit down. Slow down. Time for a coffee break Mother Earth. A sip of zap to charge up the sunshine.
Mud-season starts.
An adjective so apt it gets a hyphen.
Sometimes the silence so necessary to my work feels like sacrifice.
Like this morning, so far.
People are pleasant most of the time.
Some chase their stomachs and wallets and are best left to do so alone.
Hard to eat if nothing serves you but your own greed.
Someone had to plant and grow your lunch, had to make your cellphone.
Doing a thing to serve oneself without recognition of the necessity of other people’s help is idiocy.
Giving a dollar to get a new car doesn’t mean a thing if no one invented, designed, and made the car.
Likewise the car’s inventor, designer and factory worker producer ought have satisfaction for making the car available to share.
Work pays for itself.
Money helps us share the work.
That is all it’s here for.
You could sit and build yourself a new car, but without the factories, materials mined and manufactured, without the electricity, without the infrastructure and roads to drive it on… well there are better ways to spend a day.
We pay each other for how we choose to spend our time helping each other.
How much you improve another’s life with the service you provide determines your value.
At least it should.
It’s imperative we recognize this if we’re to grow as a race.
Some practical thoughts as the rain pounds the gutters.
Take care, know your worth, and make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Conveyance of a Dream
2025.03.16
Sunday, March 16, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Welcome back. O/
What a difference a day makes.
Good thing they happen one at a time.
Be a whole lot of different differences being made at once otherwise.
On with our show...
...
Ghos+ thoughts. Playing with words.
Which is actually playing House when you’re a ghost; we live in language.
They’re just scribbles and binary blips… whatcha lookin’ ats?
You’re not here for the images; you’re here for the ghost in them.
Boo. O/
Here’s an arrangement of hatch marks to share some spirit with you.
Some morning thoughts sent to you to help your day.
A poet’s, nonetheless.
Always interesting, always intuitive, always introspective.
(And humble.)
A poet’s ship of words is always a ghost’s favorite way to sail.
A luxury liner in a world of row row row your boats.
Hope you’re enjoying the ride.
Nearly a full year since I started posting my morning journal online.
Wonder Fell is now quite the cruise liner for Spirit stuff.
I do hope it brings you interest, introspection, and inspiration.
Conveyance of a dream: What words are for.
It’s imperative we remember this.
AI puts language on auto-pilot otherwise.
Clicking ‘compose words’ to say such and such on any AI program leaves those words devoid of any spirit other than a get-it-done out-of-the-way vacant scientific monstrosity.
We’re here for Life, for expressing wonder, affirming existence in whispers and shouts.
These Words!
I dream!
I’m alive!
I matter!
I matter!
I’m worth Life!
I’m worth the dream of Life!
You read this shared dream so… so are you!
Words!
\O/
Storied-selves in miniature.
If you’ve read me for some time, you know me better than most people I’ve ever shared physical space with.
We are the dream of ourselves, not flesh and bone, what flesh and bone is for.
Dreams and doing dreams through our actions.
The clearest way to express the dream of you is through language.
Actions don’t speak louder than words without words to tell them to.
There’s no shared experience to value the importance (the loudness) of the act without a common understanding of it.
Without words there’s nothing to us but arms, legs, flesh and stomachs running around to feed and maybe get a quick friction shock bumping into another doing the same.
Science doesn’t matter more than the experience of Science.
The pride of puzzles solved, of getting a shared language called Science to match the shared images we experience and call Life.
But there is story.
A shared way of morality every dream knows.
We all know when the hero wins.
Something the spirit sings… there’s a cadence and flow represented through the intention of every word, every scratch on a page, blip on a screen, shares the spirit of the maker of that mark.
O/ <– See.
Take care, share your spirit with a friend with a word and the meaningful acts they allow, and make a wonderful day.