When the stars go incoherant

Dancing out on 7th street

On Sunday, Mel threw me into a bush when I mentioned that I had read Dennis' blog again, of which I am strictly prohibited to think about for the sake of my emotional health.

In a lullaby.

But who's going to shoot me for reading my own blog? Archiving the ancient wedding gowns, it still reaches at my neck and drags me two years back, home.

Are you happy now?

Don't follow, I'd rather go alone.

You make rediculous claims.
~ Me to myself. In Chinese class

And I really do. I run the risk of irrelavancy and am very much aware of this. So much so that I am becoming concerned about my ability to relate and connect. What is left of me but a dismembered brain floating around a sea disembodied parts. Some are good at doing, some building, some seeing, some thinking, some talking, some listening.... there's a strength (an isolatry strength) in each. And we smush together trying to build this thing called life.

What if we stoped trying to build life, and tried to piece ourselves together to form a coherant human being?

Maybe the question isn't so much how we do something, or why we do something, but what is it that we're doing in the first place.

You make rediculous claims, Hannah.

Today, infinity crossed my mind, Like a bicycle making skinny tire marks on a patch of dry pavement on a post-rainy day. what of?

It told me to be humble, and that all the knowledge in the world today is but knowledge in the world today. What about the worlds that are to come? That have ceased to be? Or might have been but weren't quite so fortunate? And we're just singular beings, one mind each, one tongue, one pair of eyes and that little chunk of space that our bodies fill, that we can't even claim absolution over. What of the world today?

And that was a gilmpse, of infinity's big toe.

In other news, I laughed way too much today.
It was jolly good.
Teehee.

Once again, remember your center.
And try to curb your madness.