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09* formerly known as lll

I honestly don't know something that would be meaningful to me the way meeting Dido was

so meaningful to Caroline. These days. I find I, my mind, reaching eyes in every direction to

find I seek meaning in a way things are satisfying. I still don't know which side is which, I've

looked it up 100 hundred times and the dark is ever darker and the white is ever shininger

and I could say to myself, release, mind, and answer thee thy own, but I'd never trust it so

one time, my ex girlfriend had a ring of that old thing and it was one of those rings that is

two rings, ring ring, and i forget how we decided who wore which but i got the black side

and i know that that is the feminine side but the feminine side of what, more to be what

thee seek, and in seeking, sought the same, end over end enflammed, the meaningful to

me seems so far away and out of possibility, every hour that passes by less connected

the things happening, the content, is immaculate, and its surprising and its fun and stuff

i've two beers in the fridge and i've just finished one, its 11:23 am, it opens at 11, we'll be

there at 10, and we will scoff and say, bah humbugh, i opened this beer at aproximately

9:340, and anyway, these connections online, it's fun and it's entertaining, and its something

to be said, but honestly, I can't wait for it to end, like the further we get into it, the less I feel

anything, which is interesting to me in a way things are interesting, to be investigated, to be

invested, in a paradigm of connection, that leads to obsession, that then creates progress

and every step then, a web of filaments bursting light, and it could happen again and again

forever, I wouldn't doubt it for a second, ever revealing itself in new ways, new seasons old

dates, the last sip of the beer, and then, I'm getting the second, to the second, 11:30, all

hands on deck, round the frame, digital, without seconds, without pressing, a flower in the

book of all the ages, many of them, and many memories, and many lines to read, and in

books, somewhere deep, the mind is free, the mind is a flying soaring seeping kind of green

seeping through the seems, ivy league, vines twisting, growing through everything, i need

and yellow, yes darling, the want to be, clear on one thing, and very revealing it is in the way

eyes read, mind gives into giving when so asked to give and in giving, is freed? or, by some

ever dashing demonstration of give to take, shall thee be so afraid, shall thy self to give be

so given at the beckoning, it is a sordid parlay, who's party is this anyway, what ever open

door have I thus been walked through, and whose roof am I staring at again, who's second

and every trail thusly walked in reverse leads ever onwards, things thought of likened to

things forgotten, and hardly ever abused, hardly ever considered thoughts as far as thoughts

are to go as thinking does, let alone, feeling, what of, and in feeling does thy mind find truth

or is it even as a conditioner, shower scene, you're so abtruse, playful thing you, forget to

breathe i do, i just i, so tired of trying, there is an endless nothingness above the abyss, the

hand above the precipice, all along it was the wind, that somehow gives meaning to my sins

yet, I am optimistic, and in better moods, i know i, needst thou as I needst thee to see in

open eyed revelry, shocking it must be to succeed, I wouldn't, the fight for living, to life

alive, was something, and when it wasn't anymore, well, it just goes in ways so differently

for each to their own, and as far as lines go, who knows what the tongue speaks, my heart

bleeds somewhere deep buried beneath the ground, new sounds, old feels, it is the

sacrifice of everyone that gets left behind, out of my mind, out of sight, out of life there is

yet but a few, and of the few, whom, and of whom, thee, and of what more is there to say

than it's up to me, and then it also isn't, because when minds relate, relay race, confirmation

is ever a reality away, when one slips to fall, they fall, and in the fall, leaves fall, and when a

leaf falls, they fall downstream, every drifting away from me, and I, I think nought of things

drifting, I grasp not at trying to make a point to be, so clear it is, the sky, so bright it is,

the sun, the wind moves the hand above the precipice, the hand does not move itself to be

something moving, just to move, never, and another breath, just to breathe, its ever to be

something, and the weight of each one, tied the leather strap in knots, pulling the ship again

through the desert sand, straight along the compass, shot arrow to the mirages dwindling

away, away, into obscurity, it is approximately Wednesday, October the 18th, and I will

rephrase my original proposition, It is hard to imagine anything being as meaningful to me

again as how meaningful it was for Caroline to meet Dido, as far as Im concerned that could

be the last meaningful thing that ever happens ever in all of time, thats how meaningful it

looked to me, and I honestly have listened to that album approximately 9 times and I still

have no idea what part Dido even sings. What does it even mean to try, drinking coffee

and beer at the same time, i just made an english muffin and ate one boxed croissant, a

lot of the things im reading i cant read when im drunk so, i will write instead, and what

what I talking about, oh yes, all of the things we become, and it is meaningful to be, so

something, the pen, that pen, i cant remember if i put it in the pack with the rest of the

thing i left, or if it just happens to be a decision we've both made, i went to the store one

day back then about a few days ago to buy a new pen and i didn't have enough money to

buy one that wouldn't be annoying to my hand after about fifteen minutes of writing with

it so i didnt, so i have a dip pen I've been writing with just a bit, it is very fickle and timing

is all things when it comes to ink, I have finished the first book of the great treatise, I read it

four times, and now I am reading two other books, one that is green, and one that is blue,

and is it not fantastic the way there are mysteries, lead at each end, o tell me when the

dance begins, i couldnt take the pleasantries, i cant look in the eyes and see something in

each and every being the same, conversate, Im just drinking to pass the time away, Im just

in love with a few witches, and dead men don't talk to graves, find thyself in a deeper way

somewhere where things a better for you, somewhere where things a good, this evil is

true distance, far from insistent, thou and thee, few and far between, who am I talking about

anyway, all lies speak some truth, all eyes see light in some way or the other, and all minds

speak their mind, all hearts beat in time, all feet walking step, all hands reaching, grasp at

nothingness, to find thyself in thee abyss, the pendulum has barely yet begun to descend

freed hands, walking round the table square, circling the drain, and deciding, yes, this is

exactly where I need to be, strapping the legs, the wrists, the neck a magnificent catch

the mechanism in the compass begins to click, like sand grains fall through glass, to hit

and tumble to the side, being a character is what I;m trying to escape, there must be

something to this place, there must be someplace to be someone, there must be some

one to be placed, picture frame, what's your name, tell me more about the ever prevalent

goodness of reality, this isn't me, it's just the beer speaking, its just dead man's tongue

lucidity unplugged, revelations of epiphanies, sonic comedy, silent drama, but how can

that be, when actions speak louder than words, and when words speak, the opening,

it is all, reading between the lines, walking out of step in tune with every mastermind

whose thinking thoughts about thinking thoughts about, in a round about way, take

and then give, give and do not create, and in un-creation, anti-theory, and while were

on the subject [=-p-\/ like three lines got erased, my cat is a genius I can't stop her

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