The Almost Raw Key Lime Cookie

You take a cup of raw cashews and put them in your food processor. My food processor sucks so bad I had to break it up into thirds. Then Medjool dates? Well, they were un-pitted, and had been in the refrigerator. The food processor could not chop these (after I had pitted them by hand). Fuck it. I let them come to room temperature. Then I just gave up and mushed them in by hand with the cashew flour. I’ve given up making bars at this point, way too messy. Next coconut, the shredded kind which is sweetened because you bought the Safeway store brand, but it’s okay because it’s sweetened with sugar and cane and coconut have yet to go GMO, so you cross fingers and hope it is okay. Okay. Now zest a lime. It’s not organic, but again, don’t have a lime tree. Add lime zest, juice the lime. Add the juice, now mush it all together. All together. Makes three big ass cookies. Good for the raw foodie needing more than 2,000 calories a day on cloudy winter days. Right, it’s spring, but since we had spring in winter, now we have winter in spring.

Someone else bid cash on the house. So another house is being looked at tomorrow. It has an electric stove. I hope it has gas hook-ups. Electric stoves are not for cooking, but lately I’ve only been toasting tortillas and frying eggs.

Frozen dates are kind of yummy. I forgot to say, you’re supposed to freeze the cookies.I am going to break down from this fruits, greens, eggs, nut thing soon. I don’t know what I want to eat, but I feel so hungry, and yet, most processed or cooked food makes me feel sick, so I don’t know if I should just be eating more. It seems like I should be okay calorie-wise on days I’m not training or working out, and it isn’t that cold but, hungry.

I had a dream where a bald eagle swooped down and almost grabbed me, but then accipiters have been in the forefront lately. So the U. S. is moving in for the kill, or at least I’m paranoid it is, but I narrowly avoid the talons in my shoulder because I stare the bird down. “Oh no, you don’t even…” He lands less than three feet from me. I’m scowling at the bird and then wake up.

Or have I refused the spiritual transcendence of the material world? This eagle was not like the condor in a similar dream I had where the condor came and swooped down upon me an suddenly I had merged with the bird and had magnificent wings. This bald eagle was not majestic, but shiest-y. It was like the turkey vulture I had seen on my walk that evening. I had looked it dead in the eye. “I am alive. I am alive, and bigger than you. You cannot take me. I am not the one you are looking for.” No, this bald eagle was a prop of the dark ones. It’s all gotten so trite that I’ve become lackadaisical in dream time. Like, “Okay. Let’s see what you’re going to pull tonight. I know this is not real, and if you piss me off enough, or creep me out, I’m just going to wake up.” But a better question, why are the dark ones in my dream? Why don’t I want to travel other places? The primary answer to the 2nd question is that there is no one there. The place from which I came truly does not exist any longer, so visiting home is not really an option anymore. I’m also no longer trying to escape from anything in particular, nor am I temporarily filling in the roll of anyone else. I’m just this flat sort of observer. I watch the dark ones mutilate loved ones and send creatures to attack me and I sigh lamely or wake up.

Since really lucid dreaming is the norm for me, you’d think I’d want to experience awesome things, see awesome places, or visit people. But instead I just am singing, as though I had a voice like Jasmine Sullivan, Ray Charles, Keshia Cole, or Sam Cooke.

oh no! you cannot harm me! you cannot, one who has a song like mine.

There are the sleepers.

There are the struggle-rs, bright, blazing, passionate stars.

There are those who have arrived, calm, reserved, quiet. They appear apathetic to the untrained, to the sleepers, but they are somehow wise in their hands-off approach.

Okay. I’m here, now what? Somehow it’s not as fun as the struggle, but there is no going back to sleep to struggle again.


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