Resolution with needing an internet connection.

These things are confusing. When you're used to writing with a (water soluble ink) pen and scrap paper, and/or in its moment (whatever that is) it's practically going on stage to post here. Africa. What more can you say? The sublime difference is so profound, there's no apples and organic oranges to compare. The sound and light compile, to create a whole new interference pattern, galactic fringes ontologize into anti-matter, and references to thinking, or thin air.

3am, after

1. The passage of time is alarming. I find myself with empty hands, hungry for everything that evermore would grant. In 42 years of fumbling around, I feel I've finally reached the staging area, where the real act of life precedes itself from. How is it we're so mechanically in the cacophonous joke of finally having (the needed) credentials on the downward spiral of way too late? In reading fairy tales, I want the everlasting part to be true. Is the conspiracy of seeing more beauty in relation to diminishing life the question to idiosyncratic answer the Vogons demolished the earth to refine? Like mustard, its edginess grows on you.

2.
all attachments (and repusions) are cues to learn.
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every emotional state, good or bad, grants cues to learn.
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the universe does not dispense lessons as we see fit.
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for better perspective, withhold judgment on good / bad.
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we do not, if we quarrel, need to hold onto momentary or resultant malice.
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pain buttresses beauty.
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the force of love destroying beings also rebuilds them.

limiting our own experience limits experiences of innumerable others.
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beauty thrives on suppression (REF: buds on flowers)
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although you never know anything about people
they almost always know something important about you.
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love endures even if you ignore it.

locks promote theft.
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walls suggest retreat.
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treason heralds there’s nothing to hide.
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bravado stems from fear.
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steering away from blocks lengthens the quantity of thread used
to hold your case together.
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passion is rare.

passion is flowers’ unfolding from the bud of blocks it broke cracks in the pavement to fix.
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passion is (Buddhism) suffering and (potential) defeat; it seldom with mind weighs the wind of its consequence.
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passion winds everything up to play.
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what is ‘rare’, is omni-present.
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scarce items are runes of forms we can not easily see.
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prescriptions are stepping stones through the mud of un-reason and 'chaos'.
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prescriptions are what we condemn, and embrace in a war of not getting what we think we deserve.

estrangement is brick the mortar sticks to, which slowly but surely obscures the horizon
as each thought is laid atop its next and centered on the carapace
of its other.

3.