February Morning

Metastasis

What we conceive today, as human beings, will physically realize itself in about nine months. What we conceive today, we may or may not have contemplated yesterday and so on, as we may or may not contemplate today, tomorrow, or even in the very moment of conception. Yet, it's own realization is our perception, is our actualizaion. And so, we are all in this together, we are taken care of even if we don't remember or care why.
Fear is not the only thing keeping us here. Fear is not a thing. Gravity is not a thing. We are interested in seeing what happens next because as much as we'd like to think we know and may, we cannot. This is the very failure we had agreed upon with ourselves a long time ago, which is also not a thing.
I hope to see my mother again and that she recognizes her son when that happens. Time stands still when you're taken care of and I still think back to the times when even the blackest metal and the clearest skies were golden.
Crazy people are positive. They have their axioms. Next they need crayons and paper, tuna or tomato sandwiches and open pastures. At this point in human existence, furthermore, they should avoid coffee shops, television, Las Vegas, cell phones, and limitation. They should break a wall of their institution because it is fixed. Where there's a wall there'd be away.

I push myself because I don't know what it is to pull. I still don't know that the voices in my head are my own, solitary and persistent.
     Either I see why the told me that, for good or bad reason, because they got what they wanted when they did or their neighbor got what they wanted against when they did and learned from an other's example.
     I
do I seem negligent? do I seem negligent?
we don't  share the same way anymore than
im testing you you
I know my blood pumps in tight  quick little circles. small. my metabolism is fast. I used to stutter and stammer then I learned to listen and incorporate. To not say what my body shouldn't say. I got way ahead of myself. and wrote it all down.
Life has meaning: "a characteristic that distinguishes objects that have signaling and self-sustaining processes (i.e., living organisms) from those that do not, either because such functions have ceased (death), or else because they lack such functions and are classified as inanimate."

I believe in bullies more than school, in private than public education. and it's not that I learned more, but that I learned something else. Therein lies my value.

She wanted me to practice in my own time. I did and I do, when I have to, when I think I have to. When she's not there and I need something but I can't put my finger on it because it's not here.  She kept me out of trouble. She kept me like a secret, like I wanted it to be. Even though I am now, I may never know what it is to be alone. I'm hell bent on believing that you exist and that she's long gone. That I know what I want and have the will to wait. Good things come to those who wait.

We are organisms that don't know what they're giving up until it's gone. We quit before it's finished, however, so someone may pick up where we left off.

Prewriting 

We made a choice against not choosing. It was not and is not the only choice we could have ever made, that much is obvious by the relationship between the choices of the previous sentence. It was of our free will, our own volition, and now here we are, in the future.
     I'm terrified of prison because I would have to choose to abandon my free will if I want to survive. I would have to follow the rules and do everything they tell me to. Every glimpse of achievement would be in vain, out of context, a waste of time. What could I possibly learn in such isolation, and to apply that to my real life, the one I had lived and will certainly live again? "Prisons are only rehabilitative when they house 20 individuals or fewer." Otherwise, it's summer camp: impressions of dirt, rocks, people.
     But I don't run the obvious risk of going to prison. If I did, I'd take care of it. Andy Dufresne of The Shawshank Redemption goes away because his God, Stephen King, wanted our heart to race when he finds his justice, the kind of race only metaphysical conspiracy may ignite. But did He, upon realising an existence, care about Andy any more, any less, any different from the warden or boggs or the old mans bird. Did He want to open his manuscript only to find a rock hammer near it's own end. Did He cry out of irony or coincidence.

     I push myself hard, too hard, just enough. The verge of death, the urge of life. I'm looking forward to a vacation, to surviving with an intact self so I may find myself where I want to be now and still enjoy it then.
     I proved to myself that a good man may also be great and vice versa. The lesser of two evils is a false dilemma. I'm only here to walk you through it and we won't meet on the other side. This is your journey. Don't kill yourself about it, that road is paved on still beating hearts.
    My art teacher easily convinced me that God is a woman. "Look around."


   
Pre-prewriting
    

We're drawing a future upon the past, a false dilemma of a choice only perceived.
It had not occurred to me that this was doughnut day, a forming tradition of regular excess in honor of youthful fondness, until I was directing us away from our sidewalk path and across the supermarket parking lot. And they didn't have the pre-boxed dozens, so we debated the fundamentals of choice while I took that extra step to get a more personally appropriate amount from behind glass.
     We have our own problems. We like talking about ourselves, but we have our own problems. I've been corrupted and abandoned, though it didn't seem so at the time, but he made it obvious to me, regardless of the point he was trying to make, that not making a choice for one is as good as choosing against it. But the choice against one is not as good as choosing the other, not necessarily. the choice against one is just as much the choice for none, two, a different one or more. The choice against not choosing

The Unimportance of Prewriting (verbatim)

you and I only live once and must press on in order to achieve. I wrote that for the first time on my dinner napin in the absence of company so that you may know. Our best ideas come when we least expect them and to sieze them in such a way may only come at a great cost. I must finish my sandwich.
     But then, who would read my napkin besides me. I do not know and may never. I'm wasting my time and energy. I'm exploiting my serendipitous resource. I'm learning to relax and enjoy myself, I'm waiting for life to begin.
     you and I only live once and must press on in order to achieve.

These Receptors Never Close

Talk is cheap. I make myself sick. I wish upon a stare and ponder in my head. I see something fundamentally wrong with the world and so there is a choice I must make. Or not.
I once tried to explain to her what I had gone through, the repercussions of psychonautics. I once tried to explain to her the things that I did not yet understand and if I had I would have cried. 
It's not a coincidence that I'm the left-handed middle child, musically inclined and preoccupied. I stretch myself thin to meet unknown expectations, to explore everything this world has to offer me and to embrace every tinge and twinkle in my bones and blood.
Health and time are the same illusion. The same currency. The same investment. I invisibly support every system I've denounced, and now that the end of the world is upon us, the other end has wrapped them tight, waiting to hatch, in vain, wasting and watching.
I had friends once. We had common interests and similar means.
You timed your advice, that was your mistake. I was prepared as soon as I saw your eye change. I knew you were lying. Don't be sorry.
The precedent is irrevocable. The seams may split only to give way to more fabric.
I'm not mad there. I'm not mad about anything. There were specific times as they aligned with places, that I may recollect if I must, when things were dangerous. My body was as small as my words and I couldn't ask for an apology. I might be dumb but I'm not mad.
I'm somewhere between eight and thirty-two.
I'm somewhere between jobs, houses, and loves.
I'm a negative person and I'm the negative person.
I was the most surprised at an inopportune time.


I want to be great, but I'd settle for good. I'm usually worried that I will die before I may explain myself. So listen very carefully