Now it’s Monday, let’s assess the value of a Sunday.

Thanks to this past Sunday, I now know what a Marzocco leva is and I want one to be able to drink coffee and interconnect with man, nature, and the aliens. Thank you @yangyanje, a humble seeker of spiritual reality in all that is nutritious, delicious, honest and holistic, and who won’t miss a fork or a bicycle bell when it “happens” (lying somewhere as such fallen before one as some objects do), to whom I was alerted by the recent follower of theirs, the inimitable other bright spark, @creativetruth, who mainly goes under the guise of a humble tiny-tree whisperer (my words). Altogether another fruitful Sunday, so far, including apple trees and fruity (wet-sugar) chocolate cake.

How much difference a day makes.

What can one get done on a Sunday?
I wrote love notes to my lover before breakfast; I wrote a love letter to my first and finest friend before lunch. I read about the Little Prince (as examined by the Bright Spark of Sparks, Leen F.C.Mees: “The dressed angel : in search of the little prince”; London and New York: Regency Press, 1975); before making another cup of tea to fill up on the flavonoids; and kept in mind, all the while, my query from the night before why men grow beards (quite literally: why do men and in general women do not).

I pondered, why have one, keep one, change one, shave one? Are there, anywhere, rules and regulations on the purpose for having a beard? (In any scriptures?) Many different religions or cults or gangs swear by facial hair - some more strictly insist, others more by general tradition recommend their male followers to sustain this definitive feature. Clearly this is a man-thing, since growing a beard as a woman is not very popular – and generally distressing (but I have admired an attractive young lady, in the past, who had no choice but to live with it); but is there also a cosmic spiritual gesture behind this natural phenomenon many men also seek to modify and curb with equal conviction to that of the beard supporter? Is there a right and wrong about it? Of course not! But it is a fascinating topic to me.

Slowing down - Speeding up?

Around 5 pm things started to speed up for me – while I physically slowed down, remaining seated for more than 20 minutes, and I must have been meandering between day dream and dozing: I simultaneously had a conversation with an elderly lady who must try harder to eat her meals on time; mentally listed a number of crazy Austrians (using the adjective as endearlingly as possible, where possible, sometimes impossibly so) when resting my eyes from the ant-world sized print in a book on Alfred Kubin; then woke up to having a large dollop of thick yak cream plopped into my tea cup. I had returned from the Monolian plains, where I had been a polite guest and somehow would have managed to drink this brew they were about to pour from a great height on top of it, that regrettably does not sound appealing to my limited western mind. Might it have been triggered by the vegan cake recipe? I have to watch what I eat, or drink, and possibly associations with coconut oil threw me into a panic; I think I woke up from my revery without thanking my hosts kindly or even having taken a single sip. I would make a poor world traveller I realised, shutting down my computer and deciding to air my brain.

From 6 to 7.30pm I walked a few rounds around a few blocks, getting spat on by a cold rain which dried up quickly in an unseasonally 25 degree centigrade warm air.

Going into Monday

After dinner, once I myself was restored, I found myself in the mood for restoring properties all of a sudden and looked into finding specialists (or specialist machinery) that would save the day and spellbindingly dry-ice blast old oak beams.

By then it was close to 1.30am, when I started to listen to to a concert by Hiromi and the Trio Project. Must have been the scarlet that kept me going. To quote the MC: "She is extraordinary in every way".

And so now it is 3am.
I suppose Sunday's over now?
My kind of party.