I am tripping more than you are. Battling razzberries

[the mingo]

Found the little lovely.

you cracked me up with this

[SadLuckDame]

I know it was gutsy to go to that book, it is like a boxing ring...but I needed something with more pow than I, so I could get knocked out for the night.
Had to wrestle, called in an angel.

[the mingo]

probably won't be here tomorrow, Doll. Heading up for the Black River to make our kayak run on it. By the time we get back here tomorrow night we should be tired and whacked. I'll get some pics for ya. 'Nite Doll.

[SadLuckDame]

Have a wonderful time and tell that river beauty a Hello from me.
Water talks, ya know.

[the mingo]

Yes it does. Will bring ya back some pics.

[SadLuckDame]

K, thanks mingo.
Get one of the mermaidens forming/making a pose just for you. I'd love a pic like that if at all possible.

[SadLuckDame]

In answer to question elsewhere, but not wanting to be anywhere but here right now.

Discussion on ignorance is bliss and those who knowingly choose it.

I do it constantly.
It's behavior is preferable if the feelings from making my oneself delusional are more to my liking. It just makes more sense to choose it than what is factual, especially if the factual details create uncomfy conditions. Besides, it's harmless if one is able to be aware of the true details, just box them up and deal with them if must be dealt with. It's an ability being similar to playing two card hands and favoring the choicest of the two, put the hope there, plan it to be something special, pull from deck for it, watch other's moves for it, but watching the motion of the other hand too in case it needs to play.

What does it matter if it's made up...the matter is in simulating an existence which caters to a feel good, towards happiness.
The ultimate gain being suches as love, happiness, spirit, joy.

If true facts damage the environment for their existing, then preparing a simulated one, where those things are dealt, is more rich, more ennui please.

[the mingo]

Never ever had anyone illustrate the uses of ignorance by the use of a hand of cards.
This is sparky.
Yes.

Good run on the Black River yesterday. Never been on it before so there was that. Two, the river cuts down through limestone bedrock so you are in a canyon. Never had that experience before either. Three, we bucked the current for six miles so the river took our measure - at the point where we were turned back we could all see up the river to where it curved out of sight. Up there the water was stirred to white and from there we could hear the river calling to our imaginations in it's own voice.
Took pictures but ... camera got wet, hoping it dries out undamaged. Have to wait and see. I think a waterproof camera is a need to be filled. Duh.

[SadLuckDame]

It's the being of her too often in the crow's nest, and her not ever to shout about their long shadow form. What can hurt too deep, can hurt. She'd not say
until we were right on top them

with our fear they'll have us if we'll not have them.

They hit like boulders, cutting the ship bones and I'd cringe to hear those bodies break. Then always her nursing her crimson sided creatures, not to speak with us over days after-wards. Our schedules fulled up and mending our own, but I noticed, noticed her dropped edges, the rough knots on her skirt ties.

I'd muster enough strength to pull in the ribs with all the rope I could carry.
I'd splatter the hot tar, even let it burn me just to save ship,
to keep her on water.

Annie's torso,
with a mean French curve
that rounded half-hip and the lully shapes
at sweet bent knee-bone,
unless she went straight
to kick.

This happened.

In her rafters.
Her in high socks and corsets stitched
all keeping her upright, giving line
where not her lines exist,
she's such fog.

I'd hear her frighty whispers
calling all monstrous water-lurking creatures
with the scent of her praying lips,
they too bent, softly split
and mattered

the spook
way up top
over-looking the storm waters.
The waves abrupt to peel her away
from us.

I heard the waves collide dangerously near and to say to me, "Taking Annie this time, taking her time." When I looked up and she was not there to see, it was as if the night was with new moon.

There was nothing out there.

I'd pray, too.
I'd pray for her,
only I'd not go out with it on deck
to be heard, not like that.

I kept my tongue silent. Silent as her.

Instead I turned towards note-taking and writing.
I kept it all contained within my waisted coat pocket on manila bee papers, which I could lay down flat. I'd prop my fist there, holding against environment, the winds, the rain. It'd flex.

I could take it at night under a lit candle with the soft show of ink,
of what is made, unmade and done.

But, Annie
Annie was crazily farther away
and I worried to climb close enough
that she could jump,

if she was there,
if she was only asleep
from being a sight.

I'd stay awake picturing that she was up there
thinking just the same of me.

[the mingo]

The camera's not working yet but the disc appears unaffected ... I give you the Black River from Brownville east to Dexter...

[SadLuckDame]

Aww mingo! You are great!
You get me out of this house and here we are on Black river. I can breathe the air. All things are fine and I thank you.

Hoping your camera can dry and behave for you.

[the mingo]

The river cuts straight down its channel through limestone bedrock and they plunge beneath the water out of sight. Since I could find no sign of exposure to glaciers this river has done all this work in about eleven thousand years all on her own. Makes her a lively little creek

[the mingo]

Nancy, Mad Wayne, & Jess in a water dug overhang on the north bank.

[the mingo]

yeah, that.

[the mingo]

Jess took this shot and I don't think either he or I realized at the time how fast the river was taking me toward his boat.