the lost man chronicles
11. the beginning of the Fall
upon a last summer eve, after an arduous work day lasting from 7 am till after eight, last night i drew a hot bath.
after pouring in cucumber salts and liquid vapor (menthol, peppermint and rose oils), i reclined in solace and read el prinicpito aloud, going back and forth between two versions, one in English and the other in Spanish, trying not to get them wet. after twenty pages or so, i trimmed my fingernails and indulged in long scratches across my limbs, scraping off summer skin which had been hue-enhanced by el sol.
reveling in the subsequent tingling of my epidermis as i opened up pores and let warm oils in, i thought this is how droll and stimulating and simultaneously serene life should be. and, for a moment, i also reminisced how it has been.
and there and then i renewed my vows to engender opportunity, abet chance, seize and guide the moment, be a catalyst for bliss, beget destiny and empower the future with my will, imagination and willingness to fail.
after drying and some lotion, i lie bare in bed, swooned to sleep by sixty-something degree wafts that careened over me as they lifted through gossamer curtains. soon thereafter, i began dreaming about how with my renewed inspiration i might inaugurate the beginning of the Fall.
the one eye meditation .10 12. silent regression