Ya, the current time. And the Cult has been up all the livelong night. Not to rest, but be assured, it was a sacrifice, but a glowing one. Got to use the time, burn it coolly in my nightly, brick and thick plastic post. Finished a project, a good thing and yet neatly balanced...
A gauntlet awaits my warmth this morning, a gauntlet long and brutal and straight as the sole horizon...Ya, what new fight stalks me on that growing and fatted, ever-rapacious and hungry Los Angeles highway. A deep breath drawn and glorious carbon released. I'll close my eyes and strategize the sojourn back to the holy flat, the center of the World in my middle, in the eye of the storm, in the hot, taut space between never and sacrifice...
Tired, tired, tired...and yet miles and rounds yet to engage, to engage, to engage...
The Cult is my Corps and escort toward the Happy Isle...
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