Hula Hoop with Your Feet Up

In acting upon my resolution to stop killing my writing by over-thinking my instincts, I've begun a weekly routine where, right in the morning after I wake up, I take a concept and write about it in the time that it takes my tea kettle to boilI put my pen to the paper as soon as I ignite the flame on my stove and only put it down when the kettle whistles.

I'd like to share the resulting pieces with you, so long as they are not garbage. I'll only make little corrections, like those of spelling or obvious grammar. This is the first one I wrote last week. It's a short meditation about that strange, fuzzy purgatory that we exist in between waking up and achieving full consciousness as a functioning human. I've named it Hula Hoop with Your Feet Up. One and a two and a boo boo she-doo...

Hula Hoop with Your Feet Up

There's a place in between rest and life in the gummy clouds of unconsciousness where the mind is still gyrating around like a hula hoop through molasses. The kick of coffee is steps away that lassos you into thought, fear, anxiety, responsibility, oh no oh no oh no

But if you just stay out of that place, that place where the filter of awareness has fallen and crushes everything inside of it, you can hula hoop, too. You can sit and hula hoop with your feet up and continue to drink your dreams without feeling full at all.

Your mouth is dry, your eyes are crusty, your hair is in knots, but at least your coffee and its jitters have not yet begun to jitter.


What's the stupidest thing that you've done before you were fully awake? Last week, I didn't put my glasses on and walked right into the doorframe of my bathroom! Mornings are great!