We're in the center when the center exists, there's none without us.
But when not, what then. A prayer to your own best nature, but what would that be.
It's something that isn't asked for. You just have it when you do. Though maybe that's the point of asking for it? You see how much you have by hearing your own question, how a question is asked reveals the scope of the lack.
You're a range. Widen the range. As far apart as you can get without tearing at the center.
At what point does eloquence kick back in. That's the huge loss, of interest in eloquence. Feeling the one set of words represents all of it. The true things said in the way that roots them farthest, ties them up against everything else, brings it all in together, sogging it all down to a sense of rightness.
Multiple metaphors all in one line. One should be clean with metaphors, establish them and develop them. Mishmash land is overpeopled with mush.
The sense of doing something important though. That the concepts you speak of and actions you take are solid in space and time, link up and react and cause. Satisfying clicks and a feeling of pressures, of your sense of self butting up against -senses- of other things that arent fluid, that are too important to be lightly reperspectivized or turned away from to some other interest. Things being thick. Everything being food, a nourishing substance, a usable substance, something continuous with what's inside you. A mood where even a desert is a psychic supermarket. Even a crowd. Where instead of disconnected maps and to-do lists and instructions it all masses up. Your understanding of depth permeates all depth, your sense of color blocks in all the colors everywhere. Your inner circle consubstantial with all existing or traceable circles. Absorbing the rules dramatically, remembering, soaking up the power of the public voice, its urgency. Reallocating it based on reason. The important things are -here-, important enough to react to, to -act- on. You say they are over there instead? I say I know why you are wrong. I am a multitude, whenever five of my moments agree. There is the crowd to answer yours.
Maybe the strongest way to be is to make up an us. Not to express royalty or even election, just population: I have been busy with these thoughts in enough ways over enough time that I am legion, I am consensus.
These tiny strings we're tied with. Whatever you don't realize you can question you accept... this is the trouble with the counterculture, that it really is a culture, so many traditions of questioning -this- but not -those-. Do they even question or just hate. Well, 'hate.' Such hostility among groups, none of it meant. Always that fascinating sense that those people may be the right ones, the true ones. That they're invincible. Throwing stones at the diamond-reinforced window to prove something to yourself. Fighting to be a fighter and not to win. I admire but disapprove.
When presented with a choice of flattering and nonflattering ways to take things, take more things. Push till the choice collapses. To avoid this is the third sin. The second is to feel that it's moderated, that there's any buffer -- authorities, your own perceived inalienable inadequacy, the necessity of making x number of dollars by wrunsday -- between you and the answers. Not the questions, the answers. A question is a coffee shop across the park from the answer pond. The first sin is of course malice.
no subject
But when not, what then. A prayer to your own best nature, but what would that be.
It's something that isn't asked for. You just have it when you do. Though maybe that's the point of asking for it? You see how much you have by hearing your own question, how a question is asked reveals the scope of the lack.
You're a range. Widen the range. As far apart as you can get without tearing at the center.
At what point does eloquence kick back in. That's the huge loss, of interest in eloquence. Feeling the one set of words represents all of it. The true things said in the way that roots them farthest, ties them up against everything else, brings it all in together, sogging it all down to a sense of rightness.
Multiple metaphors all in one line. One should be clean with metaphors, establish them and develop them. Mishmash land is overpeopled with mush.
The sense of doing something important though. That the concepts you speak of and actions you take are solid in space and time, link up and react and cause. Satisfying clicks and a feeling of pressures, of your sense of self butting up against -senses- of other things that arent fluid, that are too important to be lightly reperspectivized or turned away from to some other interest. Things being thick. Everything being food, a nourishing substance, a usable substance, something continuous with what's inside you. A mood where even a desert is a psychic supermarket. Even a crowd. Where instead of disconnected maps and to-do lists and instructions it all masses up. Your understanding of depth permeates all depth, your sense of color blocks in all the colors everywhere. Your inner circle consubstantial with all existing or traceable circles. Absorbing the rules dramatically, remembering, soaking up the power of the public voice, its urgency. Reallocating it based on reason. The important things are -here-, important enough to react to, to -act- on. You say they are over there instead? I say I know why you are wrong. I am a multitude, whenever five of my moments agree. There is the crowd to answer yours.
Maybe the strongest way to be is to make up an us. Not to express royalty or even election, just population: I have been busy with these thoughts in enough ways over enough time that I am legion, I am consensus.
These tiny strings we're tied with. Whatever you don't realize you can question you accept... this is the trouble with the counterculture, that it really is a culture, so many traditions of questioning -this- but not -those-. Do they even question or just hate. Well, 'hate.' Such hostility among groups, none of it meant. Always that fascinating sense that those people may be the right ones, the true ones. That they're invincible. Throwing stones at the diamond-reinforced window to prove something to yourself. Fighting to be a fighter and not to win. I admire but disapprove.
When presented with a choice of flattering and nonflattering ways to take things, take more things. Push till the choice collapses. To avoid this is the third sin. The second is to feel that it's moderated, that there's any buffer -- authorities, your own perceived inalienable inadequacy, the necessity of making x number of dollars by wrunsday -- between you and the answers. Not the questions, the answers. A question is a coffee shop across the park from the answer pond. The first sin is of course malice.