I seem more and more detached from trying to stay fit and healthy. I sit here in the mornings at my computer and compose messages. I don't always know to whom, No need. I can't afford the ruckus. I need my emotional energy for the composition itself.
The editing it takes to make sense to the other of my me-and-thee-ing is tedious these days when things go amiss. It is very time consuming. My touch typing somehow gets a mind of it's own, and when I go to correct what it drifted off to, I find that I am so pleased with what slyly snuck in so much, that I'm reduced to trying to patch fairly appealing, but mixed metaphors so far-fetched from each other (tossed word-salad... galore!), that what actually gets published here on my blog is a crapshoot. That's another reason I changed the settings to: No Comments. I don't wanna read no stinking comments about what I'm already sick-to-death-of via my incessant and unending editing.
"Familiarity breeds contempt." ~AU
I have usually edited what I originally wrote with such due haste and so many times, that I can't stand off and perceive the actual message as not-me anymore. I transmit clones of my abstract "self" over the cables and networks and transmission towers to all parts of the world? What I post on the internet IS my personality's spoor, and "I ain't nothing but a hound dog" tracking my own Sent to the hard drives and storage farms of the universe. Whenever I leave my body to check it out these days, I never know whose computer or server I'll find my soul digitized on. '-)
I truly enjoy creating messages for the sages. In my silliness, I think: me-ssage; me-sage; Me Sage and it's me-singers (messengers). There's no question that I-am-is IS at least a me-singer. I'll give it that. Big of me... eh?
All this to say I like capturing drifting thoughts with words. Not proving they're true or false. I've been conjuring for a way to get outta any responsibility for my mutterings for some time now, and I-am-is just might be on to so-me-thing. Selah
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
