I think it reasonable to be lucid, at the very least to extend effort toward that aim.
Not always sure the target got hit. It seems so flipping far away how can one tell?
I think it reasonable to be lucid, at the very least to extend effort toward that aim.
Not always sure the target got hit. It seems so flipping far away how can one tell?
And every once in a while I go manic, rather then my depressed counterpart, and I get to savor a sweetness of life as peachy. Gotta be grateful for mania.
Only during these rare moments do I ever think anything I could think of could possibly come true.
Yet there will always and forever be that old gray mare. Some call her a nag.
Egging me on.
Hey Meno,
I haven’t a clue how to build a bridge over a chasm I can not fill. {Sting sentiment}
One shovel full at a time?
And perhaps when the back is really sore, the best that can be mustard is a half.
You can sometimes, but not by telling.when it comes, fill in but not build a bridge from a suspended arch sitting on a middle base, rising to expected tension when two ends meet, add a little from one, then the other end, so as to feel the meeting of an emerging cupola, but reading the tension, as it creates a supportable balance, stronger then if, it beats its pressure down to a real upstanding single leg. Go inward toward the pressure, not outward, to the sides, let them be their support , stronger, unseen.
Draw an imaginary arch of where they will end up, rather than postulating on a pre drawn expected point.
Its more of an inner sanctum.
Up the ante, for there is little hope in synthesis.
add a little from one, then the other end, so as to feel the meeting of an emerging cupola
If I could cross that chasm to add to the other side I wouldn’t need the bridge or the fill. Flood it with water and float across?
Manic; it really is such a waste of time. Where do ideas go when they are not harvested? Can’t seem to reap what I sow.
Manic; it really is such a waste of time. Where do ideas go when they are not harvested? Can’t seem to reap what I sow.
Probably the ideas get stuck, and then they come up from some source, unglued , a trigger , that is an controllable urge, may be, usually spring, in the season of and/or like a myth of springing from ahead, from vast catacombs of hidden memory, may be or June even April.
Athene born to Zeus for swallowing her mother
Now perplexing that not, really, a spade as in anti-jive, but then who knows. Help is on it’s way says 411, however don’t hold ur breath, unless doing some sort of mantra. In fact, we both know of reductionism where that leads, but if not here it goes: Very basic exposure of elementary logic, a basic difference, and either or, we may or may not.
Understand this: There may not be a remedy at that point, only an Rx of truly inescapably irrelevant, and non synthetic alchemical formula? And if perchance there is which i do not doubt in the slightest, there is no scintilla of evidence, that it has ever worked, it has always led to sorry end, the case of Manet and and his friend with a bitten off ear, or of seasons in hell
and friend, so elementary Dr. Watson.
Somehow now; it’s makes perfect sense. That is cool. And sort of makes you go “hmmmm”?
Thanks Orbie
Manic; it really is such a waste of time. Where do ideas go when they are not harvested? Can’t seem to reap what I sow.
Identity is difficult , but the ideas never go anywhere because they are nowhere. Nowhere, man, nowhere man, they are always reconstructed after a good night’s sleep, from the vestiges of what remains the days before. Other then that everyone acts a role, he thinks appropriate for the occasion. Thanks for remembering. Does that mean that I am an inadequate or unconvincing actor in any stage , or on any stage?
I think that would be your call. I’m still catching up. Gotta think slow, trying to feel groovy.
But striving to overcome self indulgence is possible albeit a rocky road, it does coincide with a pattern of manic and denied variations.
Fifty years ago before quantum time, such thoughts would have been labeled as folly.
and falling further behind
and falling further behind
Guess the fear of falling masks an antidote: comic relief: but what if per chance the mask drops, literally as in ancient Greece? Can that coincide with an analysis of what lies below it?(the mask)? Is that what the birth of tragedy is all about? The shared but unknown depth of which it is said, not to individually look into?
Underground travelers must loose some of the fear, all of it would drop to the fears of the jungle, and perhaps leave to unimaginable terrors.
Perhaps it is myst, ery, clouds; fog, and sum sunny day will come along.
myst from Angel tears
Living in eternal sun
Liquid rays , laughing
flipside, ain’t much fun either. FI.
And what of masks? The notion of an authentic self political party is rather nutty. I really have so much I should be a republican. And I an’t what a democrat has become.
I think taxes are little more and can be so much less then the contribution made for the environment in play to make money. Advantage is a creation. Those who reap it should pay for it because they didn’t create the condition. Society, culture and government did.
It really fucks with my head from a human rights perspective but I can understand it from an evolutionary perspective. Are values cultural or genetic, or a mix
The notion that living on this planet for any amount of time provides presumption should be questioned.