Bonnasquatchoutapolooza : not from the dead space of studios
Written by Agent 47 on January 8, 2018
Bonnasquatchoutapolooza
It appears my long winded ramble has been highjacked by a explanatory sidebar, that was probably not even necessary. That is considering I have no idea whether someone is reading this. Someone, out there … somewhere . … . over the rainbow– REIN IT IN DAMNIT! Good heavens! I can get so hostile with myself. Back to the highjacking explanatory apology –
Bonnasquatchoutapolooza
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That, THE WORLD, isn’t a sentient presence in that way, and this
certainly applies to any of the myriad of ways that you may have taken my use of such terminology. Whether that be: The World; a physical presence upon which sentient life has arisen, that sits within a discernible space within this universe that “we” (the royal, the editorial) can observe and measure. OR The World; that which happens in this odd construction of the experienced reality that “we” all seem to agree upon as that, which is.
Bonnasquatchoutapolooza
Either way, I know IT isn’t doing things to me, or anyone else in that selfish ego driven way that we do things to one another. I know all this but the syntax and lexicon I use sometimes slip and get lazy, I forget some of the invisible gospel behind the inherent misdirection in language.
Bonnasquatchoutapolooza
I’m not fucking Wittgenstein for crying out loud. I too, will occasionally (especially when I’m using the verbal variety of communication) lapse into the idiocy of peppering my thought interchanges that I allow to be broadcast in some form or another, sometimes the mind is stopping and searching, and instead of just giving room for a beat or breath.
Bonnasquatchoutapolooza
The mind will slip one past the ego, go five hole if you will, and I will catch myself uttering the “You know?”, “Know what I’m saying?” “Uhm”. None of these; of course, are actual questions. They are purely rhetorical. Placeholders, as indicated as the mind pats down the pockets of the jacket and jeans of thought.
Bonnasquatchoutapolooza
Looking for that … where did I … it was the perfect little … I just fucking had it. An alert goes out before it’s noticed, DEAD AIR!! All this before it even happens and the mind is wanting to simply fill up the space.