meteor showers pick no favorites

lay on your back under the covers and allow yourself this guided meditation. close the bedroom door. be alone. listen to my voice. breathe well, in and out quite slowly. after breathing like this for awhile, imagine this white light hovering over you, not burning you to a little burnt crisp or anything, but radiating the brightest joint you’ve ever seen. it has a pretty decent warmth. dig on that for awhile. oh, and you’re at your favorite place, a little private beach or something, lots and lots of blue water, picnic tables, the absolute resort. and guess what, you’re staying. you’re not coming back. so whatever calls you gotta make, make ’em now. say your goodbyes. it’s just you out there. we’ll send a life guard in two weeks. what are you in here for? don’t answer him. they wanna see if there’s any kindness in you so they can rip it out of your spleen. they’re in the process of basing some movies on your life. the outside world feeds on this. you get this desperate, they build an empire on the excitement of it. you don’t see any money from it. you make the streets bloody with it. you think you’re making them pay for it. anyway, meteor showers pick no favorites. that’s your solace.