Friday, December 29, 2006

You. Are. Out.

Having BIG debates:

Overhaul is imminent. Not scared of: direction.

Over talked compromising in head post shouts to encourage empathy but otherwise complete lowering of ability to be right in an argument that it not perfect logic or mathematical in nature.

The General Rule:
Two consonants following a vowel invariably make said vowel short.
Tilling. Milling. Swimming. Twitter.

Am feeling angular. And specifically expanded beyond the usual three dimensional quadrants.

Equations in reality, combined with uncanny complimentary notions, an astute ability to suck at essays and the highest expectations to be the novel you’ll never write equates a debate in the head that is symbiotic like invisible best friends in your head at five.

Practical Betty. Has spilled some milk.
And something now means nothing and those things pushed far back are now asking “What for” with no proper answer and Betty doubts common sense (but never intuition, and as such floodgates of the spurned illogical notion of stature and longevity are now everywhere like zebra mussels but less menacing and less overpowering.)

BLAST IT.

There is no going where there are too many directions with out reasonable elimination and I adamantly refuse to:

Two cigarettes sir let me hear you cough sir you sound very bad sir go to the doctor.

Monday, December 11, 2006

I want a dictionary for Christmas

25 mountains shifted the other night while I was sleeping. Some collapsing, some building, some undulating to other places. A rock might be solid, but the component is sand, and it breaks down and rebuilds in circular ways to carry out transportation.

Some have become sheer and polished. The edges. Straight drops from worrying heights. YOu might think this "beautiful" or awe inspiring - but the glean is threatening when the sun reflects it. The mechanical placement of sand, compacted through time becomes the striated colour that runs. So there is the wall of rock, and there is the wall of light. And when seen from the top of the mountain, there is no end, to the plateau of the moutain meeting light, and so unwary walkers fall. Very far down I'm afraid. So do you walk with purpose or with caution? - as both are consequential.

Humans are funny animals. They fight for abstract things. And the abstract soon becomes tangible when belief is extra-ordinary. I'm not talking about the sense of god because that is an innate feeling(or lack of feeling). I'm talking about the use of reasoning for creation that is not based on anything truthfully felt. As a quick example - human recycling is a product of reasoning based on the invention of medicine. Could one think of recyling a human without the invention of precision medicine? It seems so gory and unnatural. And I would never cut off the fingers of a dead man to suit my purpose. Because it's not in me. Also - without his permission it is a desecration to him. The most I can do - and this is someone elses ritual - is bury him whole or in ashes.

But the point of all of this - the believing in things that are not intrinsic from the onset - but are a development turned cult - is it natural? Because to me - natural is something that develops from the nature of the world itself - not necessarily from the nature of humans seeing as we are mostly destructive (through "construction"....funny that oxymoron)
This is not referring to my obvious attacks on the grandeur and waste of cities, corporations (waste of both mind, and nature) or the laziness of humanity - their constant neediness to facilitate their lackadaiscal attitudes. (And for the record I'm not attacking those things considered to be art - whether or not I like them.)
But beyond all of this right into the loops and knots of process - the beginning of kraft singles ideas that are the offspin of development. I am insinuating that most of humans logic is as natural as processed cheese.
In fact - let that be the predominate image from here on in.

(Yes - a processed cheese slice does seem nutritive being reinfoced with fake vitamines and some form of milk by-product. But is it really cheese? It looks like plastic, yet someone told us it was cheese and now everyone believes that even if the only quality reminiscent of cheese is the dyed colour and maybe the shape.)

There is no insinuation here that imagination is wrong. But certain things are stacked onto principles that don't fly for me. The motive of the foundation is slightly askew - almost like certain sects of religious organizations that are driven for profit rather than the slavation of souls. What flies as colour across the mind to me is natural. What is driven for manipulation, forced imagination, forced acceptance, permenant uninformed suspension of disbelief. That's what I'm talking about.
The open mouth of an accepting humanity being driven straight to hell and they're smiling all the while.

Not only are the ice caps melting - but it's the middle of December and I've yet to throw a snowball. My natural inclination to play is being sideswiped by Jimmy's need to have everything electronically mechanized.

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My dearest Waffle:
I will write a "happy" post. Maybe later today if it is slow. HOWEVER. Your Christmas cheer is on the way. So you be happy.