Chagrin Falls

Doesn’t posses me, that isnt my thinking. Not blamably not personally. Aspects of mega nega possessed my lang bang, took over my heart my cunt my everything. Nor do I seem want to profess any want to trivialize it.

But it would not depreciate, I just couldn’t seem to figure it out. And no one else I knew spilled over the sides, like y’all do. Intensity of “art” apparently generates it.

And when I found Marm, it only became more fascinating. Hmm. One does to some extent stalk one’s art —

Over time, really helped me find “the switch” (in darkness) to reshape my thinking. Though I don’t think that registers with “them.” As thats not what I “hear” back” except very occasionally.

Also occasionally, have to admit — old char do jump out in a sudden rush of historic somaesthesia– and contradicts my efforts to recalibrate anyones thinking.

That said tho — evidently, I really do like to nest. The tongue in my head repeats certain patterns of hiding out in plain site — often Sandra Bee pronounces: not going out there without protection. Whatever that means.

I need protection from my protection?

Its very old, driven into internal speech patterns as a vulture of love? Are The Moms vultures? Ha — do vultures nest? Yes. How about if I call it vauture, instead.

But that want to nest won’t end. Without killing me.

vulture and nests

New thought was, that I wanted to know better where its coming from, so as to read it better.

But that is a mordant truth.

Chewy Louie. Toothy and ruthless, rangy, sedulous. Thats a char I just made up. My chars are little flames of language.

Myself, me — the reactionary moper haunter pervy punter hunter, no Jane in tweed says: huntress — I did want to be able read it better. Ostensibly, so as not to overreact. Does that make sense? Know way to no. Yes, they may be playing. But I am not.

Whatever I say, they can’t hear. Its too dear to me somehow, that I persevere, and remain as such indecently fascinated by it. Seems they take personally what I no longer do. And it burns back at me with luxurious indignation and suddenly all I see is : negativity again.

Proving of course that the genius in negativity doesn’t start and stop here.

Things which pop out of char astonish me. I have to work hard to distinguish char, I call it fiction because of the plurality thing. And can get swamped by it. So naming the who sits is an important prerogative.

I love char tar. As do many artist types.

Just found “elves in the emperor” looking up stanhill jointure. Ah hah. Now must take that into account too. Surfaces of course to remind me, to see it as dissension, as always not to trust, any of it.

Disbelief and lack of trust — spreads everything thin, remains glimmery yet unmitigating.

Occurs when knowing is contaminated by indivisibility of projectionary vortices and those extensions touch on the trenchant.

And as such, are not allowed to impeach any of mine. Point of view is relieved of having to — and the fight flight plight etc goes on.

Acuteness and resolution are fundamental to tendentiousness, and withall, they remain outstanding.

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