I make up word
What of all the thoughts trials and somewhat trivialized tribulations for the day. Here’s I standing on the same train backwards. Let me demonstrate balance by not holding on and holding on to my phone. To type. Holding on to my type. My own words. What a notion. Most of the writing is about how one cannot seem to write enough. How I escape my own thoughts and enjoying entering in to the thoughts of others. This fancy will fancy me well in later years when I have earned my merits.
Balance feels good. It is the body negotiating its own reality, interpreting the future to come and adjusting for the according, constant changing dynimma of conditions at which to balance from. What is the first note of the composition. And more complicatory, what is the key — the relationship of the first note written, the first note played. They key written and the key played.
Does of all of this unpacking and delving into and analyzing do anything? Am I the worlds narcissist who basks in questions of existence to de-vail them for the good of mankind for my own selfish exploitation or am I really trying to do the excavation work for others to make life on the planet easier for us all. Will looking deeply into literature teach us all to look deeply into everything. Only look at those things worth looking at long and intimately. The things ever the effort of reach are those that make you reach. To immortalized words so that others may come after and not only feel the burden of present to be lessened. But also to take up the project of Immortalization and ()design. We desire for our contemporaries and our out-livers to derive their present on our future. We must aid them.