There he was, this young boy, stranger to my eyes, singing my life with his words....
Little butthole Gremlin.
I had said long ago that there was a menu, among each of us, of preferences, just like in an app, and those particulars, things we care for, control us. That said, knowing is half the battle, and if you're cognizant it takes some of the unreality and bite out of it, leaving one free to get on the business of unfettered living.
The things you care for control you. "if it is of the animal nature, shun it, or hasten to find a justification".
Indeterminents and points along the plane of infinitude, things, people, time and places. Why, one can sit, disaffected, in the control of room of the mind and make choices, sometimes informed, and sometimes off the cuff, of how, who and what to spare his what-what to.
What moves you? What brings a jiggering to the discourse, what beguiles, and what niggles at the otherwise staid heartbeat?
We are at once, finite, and only sacks of flesh, in a finite universe, but that universe, and our ontology gropes so much the more towards the farthest reaches, and beyond.
strumming my pane with his finger....
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