Words from Emily: monokini, oculist, montage, nepenthes, shark, savant, staple gun, gossip/gossipy

Sharks must swim indefinitetely or they die. Their gills work in such a way that a constant stream of water is needed to oxygenate their blood. Unlike fish, who have gill-flapper things to keep water flowing through, sharks must flap their whole bodies. IE swim. So if you catch them in a net, they die pretty quickly.

Monokini I refuse to believe is a word. It sounds like something marketing “professionals” make up to try to sound different. Like the way Victoria Secret talks about “the 5-pocket pant”. They just decided one day that “pant” is the high-class singular version of “pants”, instead of meaning “to breathe heavily like unto a dog”.

It’s that kind of shenanigan that gives marketing a bad name. I’m going to re-invent it though. Soul-based marketing. You heard it right here. It’s gonna be about marketing from what is most deeply alive in you. That’s what it’s all about. Aliveness. Like the sharks, we gotta keep swimming.

The irksome part is that there is so much cruft covering up the aliveness. But I don’t want to go on about that. I want to create systems that help people just go for broke with the aliveness. Just get started and go. The more aliveness you get, the more it unclogs the rest. Instead of focusing on the clog, the cruft, the stop-up, focus on the flow, the joy, the gushing living breathing juiciness of living what sings. That’s it right there. It’s like the idea of focusing on your strengths, only it’s about focusing on what is juicy in your life. Build a life around that. And be deeply committed to it. Let that lead the way. Hand your decision making over to your inner juiciness dectector.

If I could staplegun this to everyone’s inner forehead, I would. Unfortunately it’s not that simple.

I guess if happiness was that simple, then people wouldn’t be so desperatly buying cars and houses and boats and Russian wives and monokinis and staple guns to try to make themselves happy.

Blah, my brain is braindead. Like a dried up Nepenthes or an occultist that just realized that all his channeled brilliance was really just a reconstituted mishmash of overheard gossip. How sad.