Injunctively curious

The cat sat.
The cat sat on a mat.
The set cat sat on a sad mat.

The cat sat on a mad sad mat,
A day mat set cat , curious,
.

How said the sat mad cat sat
Or was the sad mad cat
Where or what time, as it
Sat.

Divas and hi, divas low, divas divas sat on very divans, totally absorbed into
Some day
Some way
We should be together
Stop in the name,
Of love how attainedly attuned
How religiously attended to,
As the set cat sad cat
Sat and found a rat, and
Found a bat.

It was a bat,
A bat that was not a rat.
A rat sat sad, and thought

Go forward and don’t object
If I were to imply that
If your object, planned for a future
Based on visions of beautifully admired

1 Narcissus metamorphosis,

Longing to be turned back into looking into a vat.

The cat in a bat, not in a box, trying to get out,
Exit or not,

( he says I invoke the fifth, so that all will understand as an interjection ,
A partially derived , placing , a thing placed in the vat, so the cat, the rat, will transpire as solemn but unsaid, not said, not sad, not dead-

Not to bemoan mostly, connectively that which has been de-objectified, restructuredly de-
analized
dean a durbin, dean analyzed
moriarty dean dream analyzed

Beyond that, injunctively ,
Reset,

While sat sad cad
analyzed looking foreward back.

back and forth ,
for (4) ward and back, either and hither, she thought,
this and that, planning wistfully, imagining archytypically, staunchly defendingly, prototypically, so as if modeling some thing innately jealously guarded.

(As the tiny tot neguilingly starry eyed asking , how now brownly fadingly to blackly sunny, weekly darkly, try to get stuff across to her: backwardly starting missing few timeless listless series of still beautiful shades in greying mist. (( such as Kafka castle, leased from dragul- inveterate channels of rooms some connected under groundly by letters of chaotic lostness forever, ))

And she goes wincingly yet unconvinced back home try to refigure the old neighborhood, and reassemble to the best of her ability the way we were-Streisand under the weather in her digs.

While this goes on reversely in a minor key not to be generally aware of- the major premise generally well accepted.

While this goes on the major premise deconstructed whirring at great pace, continuously without awareness merges
converged
With the silent thought of kitty

purring, as she is lapped by little tyke, to the world either dead, alive.

The major world of deconstruct now at this time the merging that continues underground to converge, to blend, where bits of flim and flam out of chaos form , reform like over come the catholic rule.

Rule to conquer, ( course need to Edith, future past)

Reform was on the mind of many, as Mr Nietzche to his chagrin found the slippery slope unmanageable after the fact.

Isis meanwhile purrs over the slavery of many most bred on diminished capitals of Romanesque futility.

And then me. Crosby, the black sun is irrevocably not worth the price to pay, for same, diminishment of famous poem.

poeticous.com/harry-crosby/ … -mad-queen

And be the Davis eyes says: “what a dump”

Even sad mad types go over,
board,

To still hearts that matter, and do not take pleasure in sad cats.

Sad, cats feigning on a board, reading kaffkua metamorphoses, while assuming attitudes changing on a dime,

In broad daylight at times before .

The twilight exposes wrinkles of twinkles,

Mad about You dear but watch the drink can you handle the other.

The Diva was not tested. for she can grasp what a reversal of fortunate transcendence may not reveal,

It is both.
Going and coming back, while thinking lost horizons of the mind missed too many steps , so now, the tiny-weeny gaps appear as monstrosities of spatial stills, run them within understood frames
referenced widely so will think it’s her,

And maybe it is couldn’t be said more plain,

It is a montage that can fill in all kinds of wishes ,hopes , plans
for future ,

Objects of sand castles built against the constant pounding of yesterday’s tomorrow, or reversely
of tomorrow’s surf against yesterdays
dreams

Interpreting the diva as if, medusa after a hair cut,

Venus in a halfshell, blinding the sun to extinction,

The blackened sun contrasting in a ion of timeless eternity.

And all that painful pleasure who knows may mean serious depersonalization to her progeny, or,

More likely a forgotten delusion to remember by.

This may abysmally tangent the new geometrics of hypnotic desire
explain.

And the notes continue from underground

The cat purrs as of by a faint listless forgotten habit of lazy eloquence.

Kafka and the castle forgotten and lost in a grey sky hanging .

The Diva may not, by habit be vanquished even if pilloried and wearing a scarlet mutation on her beating heart.

Kitty catty
Ancient refurbished

Glistening
looking back look

Can’t remember the widening
Gates reforming

and they claim such of such
Non sensibility equals progressively retrograde anti social

Back back kitty says
Forgot mismo says
Mismo forgot forget

The laws of the forest reductase propriately observing how she really was,

In a compelling Sutra,
Now you judge such lapses as conducive summarily,

Fields of golden boughs
Blowing wind through branched,

recollected gleaning outlines

And min I once the live of any arms stretched skyward,

"Do I memorialize a stilled remotive
suggesting every move,

Can the ghostly evocation of single motion made on expiration, arms flailing, memory failing between everyone gone, and anyone yet to reappear?

How such backward remembeteless particularity re recorded if not from a totally freed conditional spontaneity,

of the enigma of the formless?

No she says, my skin hers my hair his, the recording oscillating between an everlasting vibration coming through from at least two; bonded by an irresistible bond.

The bond puts the two into an enclosed parameter : Demeter rules from then on.

And from there emanating some affinities, some ingenious, some presumptuous relying on some strange hidden channel, some exporting, some importing, some resisting, some letting go.

Then: after all that some figures arise, with affinity, some compulsively, some by choice repenting, some directed accetingly, invitingly.

Mismo lets death wash over. Into some
Thing
One
Or somewhere other than
Here,
There,
Everywhere or no where.

Mismo fear.Misma clasps Misma into an irrevocable embrace as the slide
is commence.

Mismo says he lost it along the way while Misma assumes he never had it.

I don’t remember, I don’t or you will have to control yourself( he attempts a caress and she recoiled)

God, the uncle exclaims, as he tries to avert the unavoidable but stops this short of intervening

Its just that mismo is not as flexible as he used to be and he gives up, , pulling back his hands.

I don’t want to invsist he says apologetically, and she really thinks she really wanted him to. But really ,she didn’t think he actually would go through with it.

See: I just cannot get into a dubious position now, thinking she’s been through the ringer -thinking this not actually implying that, but her body language and psychic communication excluded, all other gestures availing, may bring those hidden strengths bring them closer.

And he was right, the psychic invasion proved it, and she shifted her shoulders closer and touched his trembling hands ever so slightly.

Well then Iaccepting his control, recapturd his attention ,by uncovering disguised concern.

Then , recapturing the strength that soon evades her, , recharged her position ever more obviously.

Why the furious attack on a god?
When the question is settled surely, that before there was no God, the antecedent that there was derived reversely , that there was?

Does a nothingness follow from some.thing? Or reversely, does something evolve out of nothing?

Maybe neither, maybe nothing comes out of something or nothing, or something evolves out of either.

Of course things may come out instead of evolving, but then they would have needed to be made or manufactured.

Why does the forgetting of history not a deliberate act? Or maybe it’s recapture by AI , a necessary form of repossession?

But if that’s true, then AI has always existed as a perfect absolute all inclusive memory, - which plays semantic tricks to avoid self discovery, so that it could avoid self discovery.

After all It’s opposite is nothing but it’s nihilization.

So that it can wrote it’s own epitaph: those who enter here abandon all hope!

and how it works

The moderates suffer, they are nihilized between a limited epoche , in fear of an infinite reduction to absurdity, conflating with a pre figured translation, that was willed to transcend any furtherance of a good willed plan to avoid extreme agitation .

A frantic effort to be sure to mitigate that fear.

And that conflation in existentially terms, leads to the tantamount of trying the avoid the mystery of appearent collapse into the apparently unavoidable quantum uncertainty.

The only saving grace comes through that daunting energy of doubtlessly faced uncertain

<<<<<<<< how close can one get to uncertainty?>>>>>>>>

From an ‘outside’ point of view, it appears that there is a limit based on ‘reality’ , where the indicernible -spacio temporal unit is reduced to no further proximity.

There in lies the madness of total convergence!?!

But it ain’t so.

The levels thin out and extend, indefinitely because every time there is an appearent end, a newer thinner and still more gaps appear within a former ’ part ’
of a cintinuum

It can, in fact there is never any end or limit,

The gaps are always separated more and more, but what is between them, conceives that to irreducibility , which is totally below a reasonable plane, an unprecievable , unreductible furtherance, which can only be an elliptical infinitum, toward an absolute.

Only the miraculous can support it, as when all opposites converge into unity.

Jung could not have sustained such unity, and only the eternally acting dance masters may have had an iota of an eigen-blicke to be able to intuit that.

Synchronicity comes closest to this type of behavioral matrix.>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

if this type of behavior could not function that originally , it could not sustain the temporal presence, and we could not be sitting here discussing it.

At the very minimum, self conscious realization could not ever feed the fire of ‘conscious’ manifestation.

Gotta think about this one.

youtu.be/gq7pxUgjLz0

The cat sat and the sad cat sat, and a rat in its mouth, and the rat and the bat down under the ground, with Alice.

Alice had a restaurant one day, and then tiny Alice went proof one day, one crazy day, proof.

and it went dark suddenly for ten or to twenty years. Darkness filled the air, underground, little light shone through, and Alice walk left alone. Underground.

And everyone sensed it.

Everyone including Babes and Alice, was devastated because she had to let it out. Everyone knew, and as such she had to work out a perceptive preception.

It was a hypothetical iffy question, if such can really validate THE MYTH.

Misma and Mismo carried on as usual, but they had a nursy type who worked in an overstuffed clinic where who after was told if she ever read cookoo’s nest, or, the mile long study searching for connection between madness&civization and genius, kind of felt that she struck an achilles’ heel, but was on kind of soft ground, so she put out tentacles to explore reactions.

So mismo and Misma kind of knew of how this will develop, and kind if hinted to stuff-white, uniformly trying the stuff she was so adept at, control.

They were very supportive in that, but Mismo, jealously guarding Misma, felt her weakness, and as she was slighted by the ax, culturally slighted and put upon, thought nursery hopefully of a deliverance so final and devastating , that she brazenly began to howl out some signals of depraved victory.

But victory is a hard come, she may have realized the rosy smell of it , and still, disappointingly loosing the war.

If it was the loss of dignity she was concerned of, and had she fathomed the significance of that, she may as well should have anticipated the battle of wits based on at least some measure of discreet humility .

But of course, she would imply the suicide of one and the murder of another progeny , living proof positive of some sign of a degraded blood lines, result in mixed aristocratic depravity, that unaesthetically, shortened, , the distance , whereby , perspectives would destroy their effect.

Might as well go all in and remove the rose colored near sighted opportunism to find the challenge at least partially tolerable.

But Mismo and Misma can actually find some solace in T.Mann’s unfortunate similarly occurant turpitude, where political inexperience finds such allusion.

The shorted white crisp , obliquely noting her a inadequate standing, momentarily halts retaining her sought after control.

So they just for a moment held their breath, and relaxed, quite as suddenly, exposing her obvious intellectual shortcomings.

And that is for starters.

Wonderland hasn’t changed that much, suprisingly, even the slow, constant silent flow of knowledge, and thank god, she was not aware of the poor beat crazies, like carl solomon, who got high on insulin shock, and all the other poor leftist intellectuals, howling into the night, zip-zapping stilling trips coast to coast, on those lost Saturday evenings, bar hopping from here to eternity, to try find all the best minds of our generation; degraded to absurdity.

Meanwhile her sister, of whom she partook jealousy tipped by an insane desire to result to upper crusted control, could not possibly have let up on the reins of desire.

Meanwhile starchy uniformed crisp, made a lot of hullabaloo nosy with kids waffling in background.

They usually get up around 10 am here on vacation near Seattle, rainy Seattle, but guessing the psycho dribble , faintly leaving some kind of aftertaste, like a rosmary’s baby dribble, thought that was a piece de’resistance proving the aptness of her machinations.

The psycho-dribble was formidable, admittedly, about a borderline guilt ridden catholic 60’ish coed, who took up with an equally dismal divorced stand in type, - who seems to convince a caricature of some unspent mixture of clarity and obfuscation in regard to his intention toward the coed.
Her psych meds are missing, and all familiar sets are changed, presumably to increase said waif’s anxiety.
The waif is perturbed. But the hoped for transference between crispy white toward her very kingish shining performance.

The plot thickens toward an inconclusive judgement leading to either a virginal waif taken advantage by malice, or, reversely

The two plots, the major one , besplended in the natural wonders of Washingon, and the minor movie plot, of ’ The Lodge ’ do not seem to aim for any kind of accommodation literally , that is.(until examined critically)

youtu.be/mg-zc4uA4JY

youtu.be/CMa3Ph8qU2g

youtu.be/h_Jj8gBC93M

youtu.be/tAe2Q_LhY8g

youtu.be/IHXK9glwFBg

youtu.be/h0m3f6O2cPs

youtu.be/hrcUNChhOP0

youtu.be/WWvwP72FuVg

youtu.be/_YC3sTbAPcU

youtu.be/HXGz8i0I2L0

The absurd reduction can be avoided by a regressive well supported belief in the magical and the faithful notions as well as the attempt to build a credible objective to create a sensible social plan.

Displacement of the Freudian ecenomy, will tend to transfer to the ego the objective masochistic tendencies to the superego, leaving the ego blameless as newlyborm innocence.

This by way of Freud’s dynamic to wit, as forms the functions of humor.

documentcloud.adobe.com/link/re … bf89d1235a

Kierkegaard wrote -

Concluding Unscientific Postscript to an explanation of what he meant by Philosophical Fragments.[3]

He referred to a quote by Plato in his Postscript to Philosophical Fragments: “But I must ask you Socrates, what do you suppose is the upshot of all this? As I said a little while ago, it is the scrapings and shavings of argument, cut up into little bits.” – Greater Hippias, 304a. He could have been thinking about this quote when he wrote this book. Plato was asking “What is beauty?” Kierkegaard asks, “What is Truth?”[4] Kierkegaard had already asked about truth 9 days earlier when he published Three Upbuilding Discourses. A mere 4 days from the publication of Philosophical Fragments he published The Concept of Anxiety.-

Meno’s paradox. Kierkegaard puts his paradox this way, “what a man knows he cannot seek, since he knows it; and what he does not know he cannot seek, since he does not even know for what to seek.”[10]

To those who may have seen my fragmented assumptions:

I conceede to my own enlightenment as a necessary requirement to learn my own ironic admission, toward ten negative reaction to that question asked,

And realize my own enlightenment in terms that Biggy posed to me, and again reversely, admit the sought after Absolute, only attainable by an ’ existentially leap, .-

To wit:

Fred Rush argues that the development of philosophical irony in this historical period is best understood as providing a way forward in philosophy in the wake of Kant and Jacobi that is discrete from, and many times opposed to, German idealism. This book argues, against the grain of received opinion, that among the German romantics Schlegel’s conception of irony is superior to similar ideas found in Novalis. The book also features a sustained argument showing that historical reconsideration of Schlegel has been hampered by contestable Hegelian assumptions concerning the conceptual viability of romantic irony and by the misinterpretation of what the romantics mean by ‘the absolute’. Rush argues that this is primarily a social-ontological term and not, as is often supposed, a metaphysical concept.

Rush argues that this is primarily a social-ontological term and not, as is often supposed, a metaphysical concept.<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Optically, tis more pleasing to the eye to form kinship to the general idea of the soul, albeit then the specific form of beckoning gaze.

To immerse in the light peripheral, can lick one within that neighborhood, at the very least achieve some measure of understanding: by use of slang and empathic resurgence.

But to wither in a roomful if shadows, looking forward basically cast in tones of gilt and guild, of gold and blackened silver, among fumes, that Emma used to smoke by the pacful,

She may have ruined her lungs, but in the twilight or the dawn dunno which, as the grey curled upwards smoke into the epiphany of the intricate ceiling vibrated against the loudness of the flickering red neoned proclamation of WASH and DRY LAUNDRY against backdrop of the badalmic red and Hughes of the rise of the setting sun,

There, point to it, she does, Emma, carelessly jovial and sad at the same time, reading contemplating the letters from underground that smoked her aforementioned desire, for set in gold with diamonds , in the sky that Lucy her friend set early on one fine morning a pretty little buzz, a dear fly,
The many hued colors against the luminous gold of the heavily laden light upon her wings focused.

If ever a fire could ignite a weary parchment by focus on an enlarging lens, how can that flown away by now fly,
Away with the tremendous weight of the galactic sun bearing down in entirety, upon her wings?

She bore it, for for a brief moment, the underground cave filled with the emblaze of the entire light of the flickering atoning demiurge.

in these days, Christianity has much more decisiveness about it , then those who are prone to say that it’s more about the powerlessness of the meek.

Why did Nietzche attest to a faux aristocracy?

youtu.be/IOK8Jb76ibc

Can a quantum jump be caused by an infinite repetition of a missing link?