MORNING ROUTINE
Attacked by a Mid. Maria’s Kat is on the ceiling. Push-ups - God - Coffee
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I KNOW A PLACE WHERE THE DEVIL CAN’T REACH US thoughts:
“I feel like this is about me” Young Man from Boston. That’s my goal. I hope it hits you in the narcissism! Feel it! Adjust!!
I had a horrifying dream last night in which I had sex with a Mid.
I didn’t wake up in a panic. It was more of a depressive state. Upset, deeply, that my subconscious mind would even allow itself to view me being a part of that. I began my usual morning ritual but it was still clouded in sadness.
Per usual. By ‘routine’ a word I despise as it strangles the magic of spontaneity, but, I thrive with a loose schedule and so the morning ‘routine’ :
I stand in my hallway stiff as a board and take some deep breaths. Then I fall face forward. Never bracing my legs. It is not them that save me from a broken nose, blood spattered face, cracked cheek bones (which are high) it’s my hands, arms, forced to absorb all the weight.
From here it’s 50 push-ups, an estimated 2minute plank, relax, 50 push-ups
I’m feeling better now that muscles are warmed but that tortuous vision still lingers. A mid! Down so bad. Whomst am I?
Standing up, deep breathing again, I I notice Maria’s fucking cat in the top corner of the room feet planted to the ceiling with her head craned backwards look at me.
“GET DOWN FROM THERE, KAT!” I order, using her name for emphasis. Maria says her name is _____ but I disagree.
“It isn’t I you’re annoyed with, is it sir? It’s your dreamsssss.” She speaks her usual old English accent & drags the s out, like a snake, or demon.
I shake my head.
Maria’s out of town. Rome. Something about the sound waves inside St. Peter’s Basilica. You know, dancers, creatives. Loco loco. But because of this I’ve been left ‘in charge’ of the cat.
Leaving her on the ceiling I have the idea of bringing her to the gang meeting tonight. It’s already been established nobody else can hear Kat, or even suspects she’s cognizant because of how ugly and stupid she looks. But I know she perceives all and her knowing my dream, knowing about the money I lost in Vegas before I even mention it shows me she has some use.
She’s coming. I decide.
On to the next part of the regime to forget The Mid.
Prayer. God. The Good Book.
I chose Ephesians 2:1 today because my dream felt fleshy, uhhhh worldly, mmmm this is terminology for the In-Church vernacularly inclined. I really just mean I feel unclean. Ephesians is good for this. It’s also the best book to protect yourself from night terrors.
I know this because I once had an episode in a Nashville hotel room where I woke to a presence sitting on my chest, unable to talk and my heart being compressed like pounded cement I gasped for help from the other person in the room until eventually, like a clogged pipe being clean, my airway was relaxed and I caught my breath enough to sit up and recollect. Now, Usually, I read some Ephesians before bed
Today to get rid of the Mid:
“As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, 2 in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. 3 All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh[1] and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath.”
Muscles engaged, spiritually tuned up, is now time to vibrate. A pot of coffee with a stick of butter added (I’m bulking) (I need to keep Maria warm during the coming winter)
This is Winston’s Perfect Morning
I recommend.
Did you read about Men and Women getting back to their roots? I read a piece to my grandfather and he said “I know you ain’t gettin’ any bitches”
Godspeed,
Winston
Souled Idea
Freak
A Well Respected Man About Town
