Insight Sandbox Test 240613/Null/Recap/Retrospector post 240923 4:39PM

Bc of something at odds in the mechanical backrooms of this blog, something below or behind screen in dim thin wafer or in the matter-less sheet of customizable code, BC of something polluted in style... I feel the aura of contamination from it, in the odd and changing but initially accessed state of serif, in spiky jag and hard crotchety tendril, i feel the dirtiness of the blog... Left here to rot with "one perfect post' presiding, in recency era at top of blog, the newest presenting the most public and most broken face.

Great. my voice is dead. great, i disguise with vague. Great: in these the few spanning days before the purchase of the "new phone", i am in the happy anticipatory space, a great technical soothe, where i have the phone i currently have and it is not even my phone anymore. i am using it as a pure un-device, totally dissociated from object format and instead just pure near-death function that will soon be carried via the vapors of Apple to the New Phone. I anticipate the buying, the shipping, the arrival, the setting up. I lay on the floor with my head on the dog about 3 feet of elevation below my mother and i begin crying. the light outside the window goes from vibrant and stunningly saturated to strange and sourceless, lit but not bright, and then back to vibrancy but with an edge of sunset, with all the colors changed. I am having such a good time with my mother and understanding how to interact with her to challenge her and move forward as myself and autonomous that i do not really suffer. i imagine living here forever. The day is so beautiful in virginia that you do not even really have to go out into it.

I got a job. Who do i call back first?

Pearly spanning in northeast corridor

feel "watched", and the solid watching has formed an imagined and not matter-less barrier preventing beginning this post, here in the cafe car mixed in with suffuse 7 eleven-like scent, which seems to be the scent of either some known food, assumed format or mechanism of making it, or unknown food-heating machinery itself. "ism" seems hopeful for this post... Have had this slight but prolonged daily jitter embedded somewhere in the body, which seems to be fed in anticipation of future and oncoming life and which (while highlighting and trying to change both "ism"s to a medium and acceptable gray, discovered that changing the color of text within blogging text box is an action that requires signal)

Now, three gray isms... Updated in a sequential but temporally invisible retrospect, which seems to be what i am exploring, via blogging: an invisible and subsumed sequence element, hard and gleaming, as a written condensation of experienced droplets of sensation, association, feeling, time - with a sharp -y of clarity/legibility transcribed or transduced hopefully transfigured though not in a semi-petulant and patriarchal Nabokovian sense, in order to clear thru density, size, time, complexity, and produce cleared and viable ducts of travel

It seems the Nabokovian thing to do would be to not correct the misspelled “transducted” and let that feed the “duct” later in the sentence, towards the end. I think what inside me that is perceived as irony is simply the emission of this sort of urge to address, meta-bolize, and thus complete and perfect the enclosed language or action by way of having noticed it and shown that it is noticed. In service of description. Though this sort of description seems sort of incompletable – and noting the pearl ajitter in the loose setting of my ring – I am happy right now. John has a sensation of the resolute and resolved. John being the man I refer to sometimes, outsourcing the ugliness of the consistent and personal “I”-character, and there are no worries as the I and the John can be spanned by a –‘ed I-John, I forget what that dash is called, there seems to be a better and more technical word that escapes me, see by describing the escape of the word I intend to use I have formed more words and have created and pointed an oriented intention backwards into the sentence which centers the words and narrows general pull into hopefully a formed ray

Oh wow I am doing it, I have written myself past and through what seemed to be an accretion of sort of “slackness” into actuality, I am here now, in the café car, I am here! Facing away from the originator of the scent and smelling it backwards as the train runs forward backwards facing. I am thinking of Faulknerian “jerked skein backwards looping”. I can’t believe Faulknerian is also a word. Seems more fantastical than ‘Nabokovian’. No, I can and do believe it. And “I can’t believe” is a banal and un-terrific statement. “Remarkable” Trying to exert and exercise enough pressure from the self and invert belief system to write/describe but not enough to doom intention into warping into its bleak, locked terminal end. But enough that the neural-manual action-impulse system of "information—>external visual field virtualizing—>internal metabolism—>description" remains intact and functions.  

Was really happy (simultaneous to does not operate closely enough to truth here because simultaneous implies two currents running parallel even with slightness of gap between the gap is established) in a lasting and self-refreshing current of sensation and experience over the nervous riverbed of the jitter I described earlier, all day I was seeing things such as

-       Tyvek, being a named phoneme unit for describing the branded substance of all suburban and childhood houses which stays right inside the house shell invisible but present in repeated and stacked diagonals, like a capital (company?) (product?) paisley, paisley or plaid formed of not unbiased and unconnoting “natural” shapes and colors but of Tyvek, name, product, sounds, lines sans serif, an impacted and packaged modern form of Proust’s “Guermantes Way”

-       Goshen (the area and unfocused, blended patch that came directly before and thus in anticipation of returning to my childhood house, on Carriage Walk)

-       Lost Knife (toy place-name in series with those I have taken many notes on through time, which are to be noted as having triggered one studded and micro moment of “amusement” or “stimulation” and which are recorded in promise of one day being one of the many and accrued seedlike beads gathered into the whole and all Work

-       lake forest mall now closed and encircled even on all building-less edges of flat and neutral parking lot ground by a thin, curly wired fence

-       military campus, satellites on roof or some kind of roofed thing that evoked “bigness” “complexity of world, structure” and the unverbalized pre-processed novelty of the future, and future spaces, without even imagining having entered the structure from ground level or any door or having to go near it at all

-       speed camera corridor, “corridor” which concurrently reminded me of “northeast corridor”, placed an un-visually ascribed idea of hallway on the outside road, and created a closed and technical arbited space or piece of transportation on the surface of the world, formed not by material or mortar and not built but invoked and strung throughout by the appearance of invisible sensors within the porous forested sides of the driven road

In the car with parents, having destroyed the meek anticipatory fear of needing to “wait”, “bide”, and sort of sacrifice what seems to be a spiky and selfish personal wish of time allocation in service of staying, remaining, “spending time with” in dutiful manners, realized – I can do both – this is something SJ-B and IA seemed to dissuade me from, in their need to “complete the day” together, “you (Vivian) always have to go somewhere after, when I see you I want to keep seeing you”, completion tactic formed of need, not finding the bodily jolt that seems to ascertain “wrongness” and “bad”, but the oppositional force is that I enjoy the convenient/coincident logistical pulse that arises from, for example, my parents have a loose and unforceful intention to go towards Maryland for lunch, Leslie has tickets for the Glenstone at 3pm, thus I will be in Maryland and having completed lunch sometime in the early afternoon and the two extended legs of either social cluster and nerve point will be pointed out with far ends proximate to one another, then I can “hop” from one to the other easily like a simple slide of signal, slicked and at ease

I enjoy that.

We were finding our way to Carriage Walk mostly Waze-less, with a small stretch of Waze near the end but that burst was okay and came at not an inopportune or perceived to be ruinous moment. I see it as ======================= . Approximately those proportions and estimations of lightness and lightlessness. I was happy, felt I was building a foundational “day in memory” that I would enjoy in retrospect as well, a clear and present time with my parents, my father was in his externalized and not repressive mood, we were laughing a lot and I did not feel like a child though we were all remembering me having been a child and them having had me, deciding to have Thomas; at one point the music was loudish and my father was vaguely delineating the story of their second real estate agent having taken some kind of piece of information on paper – I imagined a receipt, but without opacity, without any of the matter of a receipt – and having crossed out many lines, saying something like “you don’t need any of this”. We drove past a restaurant and they discussed having seated me on the table, there was no one there, it was some kind of holiday (?) and the waitresses were standing by (I know how I imagine this space, this is a minor textual checkpoint to maybe just try to elicit a consistent and same imagined space by referring to it) and saying, you’re young (or old ,something like that, placing them within their lives), what if you die, you should have another one, or the baby will be so lonely, it will be alone, me sitting on the table I imagine at my medium-large fat baby size, as from photographs

Yu Zhou Café was just Fu Xing Café, with a representative continuity in terms of there was still a water (event) fixture right within the entrance which was a sort of pleiglassed (meant to type plexiglassed but I like how it looks ‘x’ and ‘g’ -less) and tiny business atrium area meant to narrow traffic before entrance to the restaurant, and a glass shield angled and overhung “xiao cai” in the back, booths, the same smell in the plastic pre-entrance area, sort of raw and now unplaceable and only associated and sensed posters, pamphlets, information, data around in spots of printed color, etc., and the quality of light coming down in, a diffused and solid day (/weather, is solid weather a better alternative?)

Montgomery County Agricultural Fairground in the back, behind parked and cab-less Toys ‘R’ Us truck, which also was denotative of “childhood”, “memory”. It was good and surprising that the fairground was directly adjacent to the restaurant, because I remembered them touching in sequence – going to eat there first and then going to the fair, but the fact that they were also spatially touching was… Something

Was moving?

I remembered the street, I had a dream memory of the Maryland street, visualized it being a hill or some kind of event that seemed to require the street being hilled, I mean in a ramp not in rounded and altering “hilliness”. Catherine’s house, Ellie, Madison. All recalled with a soft child photo fuzz of pinkness. Hot pink. Like, little individuals, warm and internally lucent skin, casting yellowy light out, wearing little hot pink clothes.

Took two rocks. Also took a third, smaller rock from the Glenstone parking lot. I want to keep typing on this train forever or for a long time, until this “feels done”, but now it seems that the end of the line is becoming proximate, as is the closing of the café car which mentally feels staggered and earlier, so that there are two jags of staggered decreasing time.

Nearing New York

I just feel happy… A successive weekend of gray, pearly days, with telephone poles staked and drawing up out of flat and edgeless pools of gray, pearly water, everything milky, trees branchy and complex, inter-netted, beautiful and sensuous. The fog everywhere creating a kind of semantic touching, even among the Barnes and Noble/Silver Diner/strip mall/7 Eleven/Gas station/house/car (ultimate and mobile separate personal node) system, which usually remains fully bodied like in a universal sense with only vacuum between and thus: alone, nothing. Droplets in such a fine and dissolving mist that everything is sensuous, loving, humid. At the Glenstone where I received a kind of “testing” from IB. Leslie dumb and laughing in ways that mostly made me like him very much but that sometimes repulsed me – like trying on the sunglasses in 7 Eleven. A silliness that seems to need to be withstood. And which makes the withstander feel neurotic and unkind. In anticipation of seeing them both in one district of unit I felt excited but not anxious with my parents, earlier (known allocation of time, certainty, logistical success and no vagaries for the immediate post- period, which is what is causing me anxiety about IB’s im/pending visit. It does not feel like a visit because I am not yet located at the geographical position of “host”.

Café seems “temporarily” closed already, so this may be a situation wherein I work through hunger towards the coming end of the now freed remainder of train ride, and then see AM later, and perhaps lose the desire to eat…?

Was fully stimulated on the drive from Waterfront, Potomac back to 12343, each song felt attuned to a perfect point of stimulation, it all felt present and real and good in the brain, at Dave and Busters 2 I said I don’t like it here and IB said: what are you waiting for? And I realized I could leave first, I realized I could leave, and both he and Leslie followed, and on the escalator down IB then said: I think we often forget how free we are

I am free, but anxious, but at ease, and very confident. I am receiving “feels done”, having a sense of completion in this post that is growing. Any word now. Any moment now. OK.

Un-optimize (Post 1, 2 wines)

Something about this post seems "momentous", i have had two columns of red wine in a very narrow glass in order to begin the post, which has been open for several days 

The blog, which served as a refreshed and unmarked medium change from the hot and unable bag longhand, has undergone a soon and fate-like change into a soothing white mental held that by being thought of becomes both and oppositionally "pure" (implies a clean pre- -ness) and also "elegant" (a contradictory and by nature post- state, formed as something that has both been drafted and condensed, any flapping slack cut, dissolved)

which has formed a second triangulation (the third point of the first triangle being the presence of Me, the actor; Me the actor being also the third point of the triangle i am about to describe) of the lapis and gleaming blog being re-lit in constant momentary spans perpendicular to the continuous,unique ,and passing radii of the circle of each day, system of constant refreshment and intention at the back of the actor's mind creating a sense of peace, also small and livable panic, also an increased probability of any writing/blogging at all, but then that presence seems to decrease the ability to initialize any writing/blogging at all, raises some kind of invisible threshold that did not exist in its current height prior to the blog being the main substantial spear of the brain, the real and main axis of writing and "action"; the second triangulation is thus 

 

                                              Me: the actor

 

                                                                                   Initialization 

                                                              ability

The back brain system of the blog, held and continuously refreshed/enriched           

And ongoing accretion of un-ascribed un-described time and experience adds to the amount and span that the post needs to ascribe and describe, which creates additional "momentousness" and adds to general personal anxiety

There is a part of myself, and which i have come to now in this period of reformation (just looked up reformation to understand the level of specificity of the word and it seems to connote something more structural than what i mean... said structural connotation not avoidable by change to "reform", which seems more... what i mean is the re-gathering in gluons and particles of personality, mind, heart, and self which have previously been shattered [scattered] and dissolved back into the strong central true funny new and oriented self) which seems to operate on a unrecorded period of rotation which faces the actor first at one social cluster of people, then another, then another, finding solidity/truth/weight in who is presently faced while feeling an escaping and "casting", "sloughing" action towards the rest, moving the loyalty depending on placement in rotational period and cardinal direction of facement

It has now been several hours since typing the above, and a state of sleepiness that seemed to portend "giving up" and going to sleep soon, not typing more, has moved over, through, and past me. Drunkenness similarly has passed -- gave way to an immediately sort of mild, desperate embarrassment, induced by textual behavior induced by wine or which happened within the gauzy and brief experience of wine alone which overlapped with the paragraph right before this one -- hence my sort of active and internal swivel among friends felt very urgent, then i remember a sort of minute dissolution of the embarrassment caused by remembering my new constant test - but not test, just also a probing action - the action which is to relax into the un-optimization of self in the planned and organized company of others, including in prescribed rhythms and behaviors and then just a general and uncategorized urge to tell things to my friends

I thought: just because my "upswing" period is not congruent with an equivalent period of hers, just because i had until recently ('recently' seems inapt, due to importance of this period ) been sharing a bleak regenerative and insular comfort with her, does not mean that the shared bleakness was poisonous, or that that temporal and undefinitive sludge in any way mars the friendship, generally, /will somehow be "ruinous" to my intentions now... This solitary urge to rocket when in personal upswing generally does not ...

I am not feeling good about this post, i am feeling not slackness in the render but more the sensation of a hewn wall, formed of rough and large units of stone, heavy and mortared together with very thin seams of mortar, grainy, the stones are not movable and are all tight to each other but are samey and repeating to look at the wall there are no individual stones and there is no flow through them, just ---ONE----is what this post feels like, like a plain material in units repeated and no current altering itself pliable sensual and aglow, threading

No thread

I believed while typing that last part about the wall and then "No thread" that describing the suboptimal quality of the writing in a novel way would in effect efface its suboptimal quality and make it good by encasing the previous in a flexible but firm polymer cover minutely holed for digestion

For digestive juices to enter and begin digesting the substance within the cover

I think it's important to note the cover collapsing in on itself once the substance is fully secreted and it is empty, freed by physics to be concave

I'm not writing about ANYTHING that has happened this week, which is FUNNY, which seems FUNNY. Week is the chosen literary container for the stretch of time that has been occurring since Dec 20, when i returned to Va via northeast corridor, but not even really - more since i chose to stay longer, since Th. left, and since a series was established with IB that was allowed by me extending the needle of time forward, but in a way where the finity has remained -- last night after hanging out there was a completion i felt in the room -- he made the decision to remain here longer instead of returning to london and was out on the armchair, in a way perpendicular to the empty center of the room that was almost similar and evocative of a very purposeful remote choice of seating in his Va guesthouse in 2020 -- 

And he was very handsome, i was feeling a frustration borne of insecurity but also of what is common with me which is the schism between instinctual knowledge and then (intentionally?) confusing emissions from the other, the schism seems like it is the insecurity, so maybe that's all one thing, lateral cloud cover of different type of sleepiness seems to be passing in now, in a very soft and lineless way into my middle head.i kept wanting to say things but seemingly for the purpose of retrieving the subject of sex  to mix into the clear yellowy air of the room 

earlier the day before i had been in the car behind IB and L, with blue notebook out in the dark trying to describe the procrastination of consummation felt which -- then with each iterative and truncated procrastinating act you seem to enter slack time which without refreshment allows for loss entirely

thus my (i am thinking of it twisting at right angles like pipes) urge to address sex, because it now billows over us in a slight and misty emission quality of which  implies only i can see it

In all heterosexual scenes, there are unlisted desires, which with a piece of mental and personal belief physics can be made to seem "real", momentarily. I consider sex with.... It is almost the same binary action as with the 

__________________________Hostile belief >> momentary relief and self soothing loop of the old obsessive compulsive cycle

H  ostile ------

                                      > belief

H  eterosexual  ---

Yeah.

One final thing: what is the "consequence"i always expect, the anticipated and doubled expectation that is the anti-death fear action - how has this, the anticipation, spanned, grown into a thick and veiling myth built of dust nuclei- beaded droplets , individual and (in)coherent ------- And how do i take the actions to disperse it?

"Getting my story straight", "afraid of being found out", afraid i will "get in trouble"... The roots of these, sick, evil, splintering in the meaty middle ground of context and conjecture in great macro span across my life... They are here, in Virginia, and if i can understand and see them elsewhere, the fine trapping hairs , then i can free myself

👪👫👭 👮       🙋

Emily beamed

 just (8:21:37PM) looked up on my phone how to get scratches out of watch faces, read the pleasing phrases "watch crystal" and "determine what kind of crystal you have" and applied old child glasses lens cloth from right hand drawer to said undetermined but personal left hand watch face and with minor rubbing, removed the scratch which was a minute erred point of fixed fog from me hitting the watch accidentally against the inside doorknob of the bathroom door, minutes ago after washing my hands after feeling this sort of ailment-seeming but warm and friendly personal fog in my chest, downstairs, paranoid that i would be "clocked" as having smoked half a cigarette, earlier, in the parking lot of HWes, so operating in these sort of mechanical and teenage loops in the kitchen, around my parents, who actually just seemed happy to see me and sort of concerned i would not warm up and have dinner in the "correct" ways but any "correctness" relating only to me being fully nourished and "correctly" fed, had 2 modelos also by Lake A Plaza and there was a pleasant (and only in retrospect does it now appear to be constant, endemic and extant to the plaza and the part of the day spent there)... How to...There was a sensation of context and memory, but running in a track parallel to me, cold and unpainful. it was very cold which was also good. I found that in doing the slight mental vault required previous to the social situation, having to do a slight neural hop over the not even verbalized and now sort of purely textural and lightless mesh of "I am not wanted there", i arrived and soon ran myself into confidence, beforehand was nervous in the parking lot listening to at eithe rPepper or else the unheard On an axis... It feels banal to list song titles, but i guess i am trying to achieve and ram forward into a sort of core specificity which seems possibly like it shouldn't be circled and should also be described as quickly as possible... What else would I do, the vague "second song" "third song" doesn't seem better,

coming back here (8:51:50PM) after recalling while typing end of this blog post that while listening to whichever song was playing in the car and parked before exiting and meeting the other i thought "listening to music you know and like is for strengthening of self, ego" "I know that now", had a positive thought related to acid (rare if not possibly even totally solitary) sort of simultaneous or else just alongside in a sense not temporal but not spatial either in the lightless colorless render of mind, simultaneous to or alongside a wordless and impetus-less sense of the material strengthening, like a natural scale or armor, armadillo maybe, scales to the hard or nacred dermis,   and then while there and after being there and then the smooth and easy drive back down R Parkway the self was back, is back, or is possible, is good and possible, beaming out from me, protected or reserved, changed but luminous, confident,

I feel a similar drive, heat, and flow while typing currently that i felt in the past in livedoc.docx and Livedoc2.docx, both of which i was reading over last night and feeling i think a low-grade and anesthetized "fucked"ness, the quotation marks are not for any verbal /semantic prophylaxis or irony, i feel they are funny and also create little text "bon bons" that you see are strung up by double pins, it is pleasant to see ""bon" and "bons"" next to each other like that with a cushion of space between

Last night i was also watching mumblecore, the beginning of liveblog by megan boyle, the current 2023 liveblog of megan boyle , megan boyle's flickr (as multimedia aid and emotional augmentation alongside liveblog), i remember watching again, feeling that it was imperfect and feeling a sluggy gray motivation to go back and recut it, then feeling that i wouldn't and all this was a flat wet loop occurring dull and simultaneous to many other streams of feeling 

One of which was hope, "i have made good things before which were lighted and good without needing any exterior contrast of environment and which even in fault are formed of talent and 

The watch is fogged up, looking into that now, online

I keep leaning towards him sexually, i want to arch over him, he was on the field where i had recess and i wanted to lay on top of him, arch connotes garden, i just colored both the words "sexually" and "garden" and then uncolored them, seemed stupid, like House of leaves stupid. Ha ha i am just having fun writing this, I am having fun! i feel the low flat settle at lower bowel that creates stress due to i will have to stop writing and go to the bathroom and meta- stress which seems to quicken the settle into an annoying digestive pressure. I don't want to describe digestion here but i will leave it because it seems dishonest to remove it. "seems dishonest" is a personal mass that must be returned to. Not here. 

just paused blogging (ha ha, typed "writing this" then deleted and replaced with "blogging"  :) )because i wanted to attend to several facebook messages

God i feel so good and i was in the peak of it feeling hesitant about describing at all, Feeling some grained blockage now, like blood being drawn and sitting solidly in a thin red line in the tube , not moving much... Feel that the peak of the feeling is coming out through my face, which has two fields of heat lateral on either cheek

Was happy, noting it, there was a length today of happiness, quickness, the chemical magic of self, charisma, honesty , an absence of blockage or insecurity, just action, speech, communication, "with"

With IB and Emily

Me, Va

(just now) Deleted P go, X, resolved to not go on r/, deleted google chrome (3:39 Am) because was tired of vaulting over the depthless space between browsers, deleted new and latest twitter account, some small and dull relief, then went to E’s I and EXT Gorm, had a mentally verbalized “miniature heart attack”, S, G, E + B on bill, an iterative newly traumatic and not even pointed or autonomous urge.. No intention… Typing is feeling more clarified and immediate and truer (though could be from the friction and “stoppingness” of BIC roundstick pen) than writing did earlier… no longer even feel any evil or transgressiveness from reddit or nucleic individuals, twitters, it all seems just kind of barely stimulating or dark and more just lightly lightly funny unpowerful and nothing (/3:39Am) (Returned to just now) and back to the kind of depression that feels totally meta/static and banal to even describe, evades description, (Wed mar 9 2022 4:01pm) in work I am reading now and feel incredibly drawn to but also despise on some level and feel like is not what I want my work to be, what I want writing to be, it feels un-lovely banal and ironic and sad, it makes me depressed for sure, at the same time I feel a sort of loose connection or un-connection coming from relating to things that come from feeling un-connected to others, relating to feeling unrelated and loose in the world, “lost in the world” Kanye west, like a naked ape clothed and then set outside among other apes, like I must cut myself down, but I have put that thought somehow on the back-burner when it was my main thought for weeks, and the arbiter of the anti-thought is I suspect engaged in the same behaviors she ridiculed in me but yet she ridiculed them and cut them out forcibly out of a goodness and love for me which I unable to see the bigger picture sometimes unempathize with and forcibly disengage w/, her, for a couple of days, talking about elements of the body as if they are detached from the self but also partial indicators or like facets or like bits projectors points of value about the self, attractive prospects about a purchase to be made, that disgusts me and yet I have that framework attached and billowing softly out from some certain deep-cut whorls of the brain for what seems like permanent time (/Wed mar 9 2022 4:01 pm) (Returning to just now) and lives in a constant kind of full body visceral fat or mucus barrier of "i am so depressed" "i am lost" (null) (null) (null) Helpless to time and immediate section of livable time as a kind of widthless and momentary band perpendicular and moving over the continuous passing ribbon of time past and time future as the present which is only a brief and stolid window opens and seems to depend totally on the amounts allocated to the bordering sections immediately before and after which result in an immanent and set and permanent unchangeable consequence

Future being that consequence, being the result of inaction or the wrong action or the incorrect allocation of time, "scheduling"; i was faced with the need for correct action today / yesterday and felt helpless against time, against impending end of visit home and return to "real life" real life being the game i play in unkind, recursive panic in new york, so rescheduled/removed/by removed i mean moved again this one band across the ribbon and created more current and unmarked time and seemingly pushed away the emergency of friendly upkeep (which true and weighty meeting with the Other seems to sliver into upkeep the more i am unable) that seems required immediately post-return/resumption/ rejoin

I have lost the power of rejoinder

I seem hidden from me or perhaps dead

Seems dramatic

When drinking is good it is an accretion of relief, of a sort of unclean and gaseous cushion back brain-ward

When it is bad it is a neutral and increasing but inactive surplus substance or not neutral and making me more nullified, or angry

Today (same day 3:- Pm) i have replaced "delegation" with "allocation" which is a better word, and have reread my old blog posts, and felt a phantom but convincing "proof" that i "used to be better at writing" that some kind of ruination has taken place and i am now awash, mean, suspended, in virginia which on the highway laterally imposed w/ 3-pronged capital one building new all truist banks and edelman Appian  i was thinking , I was raised in the cradle of all american evil

Cannot even tell if i am positively oriented. it seems that my pocket system may be obliterated, or wounded. all this atomized information and it remains in droplets unencoded outside of me and inaccessible to 

Me

HAQQ/HAJJ, Receiver

 10/30/23 2:50 AM

Returning to myself, on the way to AM today got off the R in bay ridge then on leftward wall of the car dealership left to me was a series of regular staggered blue-white lights, i looked up at the 1st one and received a fine mist of rain coming down in discrete lit dots as if all small pocketed units of weather and light suspended in /  \ shape downward three dimensional widening and beautiful walking not stopping looking up at each dealership light shining downwards i would receive the same spray, not 'spray' which seems too immediate ugly and contained but the continuous and moving current as in spray spread over time, molecules binded and coming in the unstopping and ceaseless capsule experience of one section of current witnessed. Each light and each visible iterative mist enacted a lit and contained extension of the feeling that i felt at the first. which was a white and happy wonder. this is something i have probably not felt since i went to california and since i have come back with a kind of scale or shade lowered over vision and spirit which has been a bleak, considerable dimming

It was not just a feeling but a kind of seeing and the feeling that is exacted in measured, translated temporal response of the immediate description action which is optical lensing action of visual information

I am a creature operating in thought and consideration, thought and consideration which provide me with joy and esteem, thought/consideration/joy/esteem system (self) which has been wounded in these few weeks, but i feel tonight that i am returning to myself, not in the paradoxical locking to physical and medical body that i have existing in alongside a great and sad distance from the actual:: me

I do not think i was or am actually the guilty party in either situation

Pain from schism in reconciling or preparing to reconcile something which maybe can flap open for now, beginning and extant now, allowing for trust broken and dissolving, necessary alchemical change,self reliance that does not forego/reject need/care of others, need but not needy desperate unconfirmed circumscribing seek,

 ing of an unconnective and unfaithful 

Thu Nov 2 2:06 AM

Return to those of center, i.e. ÁAM,J, C, S, K ETC.

To be heard

by accessing ths blog slotting into place how recent the patches of  my consciousness and mood and sense of self memory set carried are and how short, gassy

Saw D and M today and didnt tell them of my news and didnt feel the need to like there is no point in just sacking it all out sachering it all out or spidering it, im glad ive told the people i've told but now i felt "curdling" feeling, confused or else old buzzing and empty slaught of stacking needs, need stacking all the way up into one tall teetering intention -less tower, just needing outwards and nothing will in fact emphasize or build on the news and now time to turn back to the novel, Drinking not a fun answer or a solid one but just a known quantity, it is known where it will go, what will become ofme, what girlish sliver is left to flake silvery through streets drunk, Not to quantify but some people feel better to be around than others, there is lack of a self-conscious/painful falsity around those who "we are the same", early dubbing of "Friendship", what troubled me, jokey bracketing of perceived similarity in meme-transfigurative empty speech, i despise that, i sent my story just to impress, wht is that impulse.... Feel ashamed of that impulse, note (i note) the missing I, I do want S to read it though, though.there are some where it feels the reaction is subpar or missing probably because i did not want that reaction in the first plac,e, did not need it, I work on my novel, i act and believe i am more insecure than i am, things trouble me and i am unsure why though i know why and have come to conclusions as to why before, Keeping myself..

feel pretty good right now feel glad and feel that the day fizzled out a little in non-control then Upswing somewhere in K pizza

 

 Italicized Mon Oct 30 1:24:34 AM as Demarcator of Time

<3, truly, it is A/OK