This evening, for a brief moment, I gave myself the impression that making small posts in support of the activity and projects of friends, in particular that which I enjoyed personally, wouldn't probably last long. Even as a five minute procedure that I value, purely as a gesture of patronage, it just may not last. Actually, at this point, I can't believe how far I have pursued it. I was just contemplating the likeliness of losing my attention, and the capability of being leisurely with my attention (I am currently ecstatic at the leaps and bounds I have made with my current literary projects and research -- being here right now is my conclusive winding down for the night).
However, having just endured a saddening realisation via a received, contemptible effort at patronising and criticising spectral issues my own ego apparently contends with, I am grateful for the unknowing providing me with the diversion I required. Seeing how and what little was said decried my own delusional conjecture of still considering there to be some form of 'sentient going on' with the subject and matter, a delusion that has unfairly stood its ground in my mind mud for too long of time. Looking at my watch, I realise that the time is now, the tick tock giving my mind a clock. I cannot saunter through the 'meadows of life left', directed onwards -- or for that batter backwards -- by the dandelions grown on lower plateaus, and rambling shoots that lack the conviction I seek, regardless of the very potential for that conviction to be futile itself. Give me the Helianthus annuus, and I will be galvanised by the irony of my compass, a parabolic spiral that sends me onwards and upwards. There can be nothing but respect for the sincere seeking sincerity, the reflective observing reflection, or the capricious to request caprice!
In fact, I am embarrassed for the personage of this particular Act, and their self-imposed, yet unintended conundrum: an abortive fantasy within a fantasy. To elaborate further, I consider it a saddening, whispered rattle of mind beams; a tear jerking phenomenon. And for the spirited, assuming chap that's the protagonist of episodes ingrained in my past, well if he had known about all of this, there most certainly would have been a 'soul destroyer' manifestation within self and space. Thankfully of course this is only an observational what could have been, and not a written history of termination itself, for back then I'm not quite sure if I was aware that souls can be re-sown; every next plant is taller than the last Sunflower (Star Death II can be surpassed by an accord with Soul Ra).
Conclusively, I am quite content to be ending my evening with these blog posts on the momentum of affiliates, no matter how lightweight they could be considered. I am clearly too tired to maintain any serious developments with the grail itself! Talking of which, it is definitely time to retire to sleep, a privilege for a weary mind.
(a contemporary extract from an ongoing project, firmly under a fictional disclaimer for the lack of affording better bollocks. An extract clearly presented out of its context, and without synopsis, it is prone to ambiguity and miscomprehension)
(working title: "Diatribes and Fairytales")