rummaging;
Every entry I write feels like a long-winded tailspin.
Like I’m building precarious little bridges between
the cracks in the picture, or having a seamstress or
Italian tailor fix the frays in one of my suit jackets;
above & beyond the stage of experience, observing it,
rolling it around between my thumb and index finger
trying to internalize it as being round and symmetrical.
But vague, especially vague,
like having seen magic shows with your parents and it leaves
the mark of experience, however, you can’t piece together
the closure of concept.
QR code Rorschach test
and a big blurry circle of analysis.
I’ve been rummaging through the past decade
of my writing fragments. What a gamble.
In summary:
- Left wondering, always wondering.
- Right turn or U-turn into the next phase.
- Carseat in front of a television set with myself et al.
- Middle class being slowly dismembered on the chopping block.
- Relevant more, relevant less.
- Occasional rain likely for the next several hours.
- “Self” is thematic institution & illusion.
- All are atop the sphere where splitting up atoms
practically and efficiently will sell better than
all wars and George Clooney movies combined.
“Harnessing the sun,” you’ll hear again, and
likely care once it powers your toaster or defines
newer parameters of poltergeist instead of being
strapped to rockets and perched toward God, men in rooms
deciding for us that death won’t ride in like Slim Pickens
just yet.
Or something like that.
There’s 20,000 more words and concepts and plenty of run on
sentences to try and splice together or reconfigure: items #1-990;
it makes me want to drink or start chain-smoking on the balcony
again, because I never saw a majority of these concepts to completion.
And it reminds me of every instance of not finding termination
(or determination) through a deliberative thought process.
Understanding is not meant to be measured in parsecs.
But understanding, whatever that truly means, requires at least
picking up the ruler and seeing if it’s a proper measuring tool.
I’m done until next time.
Ah, the cemetery that is my notes app, where good ideas and bad go to die. Not every idea is meant to be seen through to completion. There are, however, plenty that never received their rightful dues, and that is on me.
The only thing to do is push forward, right?
@the-idiot You’re right about that, what a construction site of a burial ground, dear lord. I guess I have this weird tendency to want to see a lot of the mundane ephemera to the fullest capacity, like when I start cleaning the house or blowing the leaves and nuts off the driveway and grass; they just look better being somewhere else.
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