Photo: ArtStation – Scott Richard
Sunday, October 27, 2019
Day 9 of 44 — I’ll share a story behind the stories of ‘BOOJ-WAH-ZEE‘. This is the book that caused my panic attack last March.
First, I want to thank my newest followers on my site. The 44-day story campaign is to promote my GoFundMe. Each day I’m publishing a story around people, places, or things which eventually on day 44 will reveal a message to readers and supporters. The plan changes daily with my mood, but I’m sticking to it with all my heart. Click here to catch up…
Donate today and I will reserve you a copy prior to release date!
Nothing from within to motivate. A vessel where energy recharges us swings its own way. To dive is to die. Breast stroking through the waters of a mood we never ask for. It’s here to either sleep us, teach us, or project onto another vessel. From above the chambers of mystical infrastructures hold air. For when the humming’s make it up there they can breathe.
Learning that what matters is in between, leaders of Mahan point carefully to select the ambassadors. Similar lights of outer gatherings never confuse them; however, an intelligent lack of awareness would expose it. Spinning at the colors lead them into a dark sea of thought. A motive to do anything ceased it.
One conversation can make an intelligence alter. The story of Port Avanti begins at the moment one million seconds forget to laugh. How a young boy could ask a simple question which ignites his addiction.
In a city where the rich remotely dictate their assets’ influences, he’d alter how moods guide decisions. For lost thought on diversified soil, silence becomes the truth. As a sea of stars learn to show us the true light-years we can’t see, only those who know are it.
Writing to Port Avanti meant his arrival to trust.
“What is your goal, Rigil?” Jessica asked me.
“I’m like the one man no one cares to hear…”
“OK, and?” Her hands jolted up beside her cheek.
“Sorry I don’t… it’s complicated,”
“You were just excited and now you get all melancholy on me,” she responded.
“I don’t control this shit,”
“What? Your emotions? Don’t you dare…”
“Look out the nook window — it’s a vibe lighting up,”
As the tower illuminated, a trio of promising hues took her eyes. It’ll often take one to change a channel, but two for a difference to be seen.
This was not the story of the many who’d awaken, because a mood we experience created the colors. The story is this; we are here to hum.
Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... “The world around us is our vehicle, what you'll read is how I digest it.” -Budd