I promise a something. There will be words with meaning here in the future in between the present and the unpredictable static routine that simply won't go away, no matter how much I strive for variance.
A conversation I had this evening left me with a strange feeling I can only understand whilst in a certain state of mind, induced by the potency of interpersonal accord...a uniqueness in a strangely familiar peer, with whom I seem to be acquainted though there is little mutual in our brief exchanges thus far.
How can I know...where will it go?
Do those dear to me care about my thoughts in anything other than intimate verbal form? Why do I maintain this slew of what was supposed to be photography and philosophy...is it a glorified micro-social network? It would be more efficient (in the eyes of this transient cosmic being) to invest in a digital IV so no one will ever be out of touch.
I have so much to say and so few who care. In between yawns I reflect on the happenings and the experiences of each and every day, wondering if it's worth the effort to re-live them, if only for a moment, and transpose them to a pleasant twelve-point rendering on this virtual mental outlet.
Chinese has a word for everything; in many cases, several ways of conveying an idea, an action, a feeling in many ways in varying degrees of severity, sincerity, serendipity, other words that begin with S.
I can hear pounding on the floor (or walls?), and it's a fucking soccer ball; grow up and realize that we are not all insomniacs by choice!
But it's ok...it's ok...tomorrow brings what is now only in our imaginations...we are all amazing artists at our cores, able to envision even the most complicated and unusual of scenarios...that's what I try to say, but words suffer from an unfortunate duality; what is written cannot even be lent a guiding hand into the vast swath of verbal drobiaziach without becoming a victim of degradation...write on a compact disk, have the computer read it back - they are more human than we ever would have imagined in the 1980s. The science fiction writers of yore...oh if only they could see us now. A characterization come all too eerily real.
If I can make it come true...all of it...if I have the means, the method, the madness...I will.
pasiadzieć, kol zorak. Chaj pylu liažać dzie jon liažyć.