favorite little spots sometimes between words...

my favorite spot today was one in the orbit of a slowly spinning orange ball. It was one with two 76 on it. That makes 156, which adds up to 12, and I would really like to multiply now. So let's say two. Yes, two times 76. 7 and 6 are 13 and 12 and 13 are 25, which add up to 7. What ever happened to the 6? (76x76=5776... which ends up being 25 which ends up at 7 again...) My favorite place today was in the orbit of an orange ball, spinning, above a gas station. And I was attached to a slow orbit and I passed right through trees and through walls and through the freshly wet hair of a beautiful woman, and further, above the street, and then far away, I could see through a window how she looked for a hairdryer. Or a towel? Then the trees again, the walls, the not very new ikea cabinets in the kitchen, the door, the hair, I stopped. My favorite spot today was in the line of sight to a spinning orange ball. It was in the hair of a very beautiful woman. Freshly washed wet hair. Just the perfect length, just the perfect texture, just the perfect temperature. I listened to the thoughts, streaming through the many strands. They were plans and thoughts and flights of the imagination. Beauty is made out these things. The calculations here are much more complex than the stuff above, of course. The number we might probably find here would more likely be 9... 7+2... or the German word for No... often used as a soft yes. The hair on our heads is maybe a pointer to something somehow. "Look, this is where we come from, this is where thoughts happen. This is where things are interesting." I am losing my hair. My forehead is growing larger and larger and eventually one will be able to see the drawings on my scalp. The cats and dogs and hunting scenes. Soon they will become visible. Or are they on the outside of my scalp really? Or are they the decorations on the inside of my head. How could I possibly find out? (Would I ever want to?) My favorite spot today was in a voice. The voice was on the outside of bodies, at times. Sometimes it was only on the inside. It was a voice never released as voice. Humans can do that. We can train each other to fall in love with maybe even just a tiny portion of somebody's voice... a "yes" or a "no" (or 9) or maybe the breather between words? ...and then when the person who's voice we learned to love writes to us, well then their voice is released inside... another one of those miracles of paintings on the inside of the skull... that voice... (hello... mon Ami...) And I would have never thought that it could be so amazing to see my own name in flames. Sharp, pointy flames, really amazing flames. Like the ones in a miniature painting... there, above the entrance, to the left. Really wished this had been the entire day. The entire day spent in the orbit of a spinning orange ball, in the hair of a beautiful smart ingenious woman, in the trees, listening to variations of a voice. Maybe if I close my eyes now, and if I listen very still. Maybe then this day will reenact itself, as just that. Just these events. Imagined or not... 76, 76... what is it that happened in 76?....