The Confidentiality of a Total Stranger

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There has to be something illegal about me plagiarizing my own material written for other reasons. I wrote the paragraph below as a response to an e-mail discussion, but sometimes I wonder if I don't possess ulterior motives that transcend individual, but separate events:

"It may be a subjective thing thats particular to my me. I've looked for tricks to help me say what I see in the light of my need for speed, and I discovered that I was attempting to ascertain the truth or falsity or ethics or moral turpitude about such drifting thoughts, to see if they were worthy of my displaying them in my glass menagerie. As a result, I deemed that dumb and stopped trying to tell the truth and just right amorally. I sleep much better with my dreams now that I've taken them off the trial docket."

The truth for me these days is that the few people who take the trouble to critique my writing state that I'm not unfolding what I write about as lucidly as I could with a little effort. Not everybody keens my shorthand method of description. Why would I care? It all poetic license to me. I never liked exposing myself with prose anyway, so I make the prose I wrote a mystery about what I'm not saying with poetry. Besides, who doesn't like "fill-in-the-blank" propositions that let the reader feel good about whatever they've decided to read into what I wrote just for them. Maybe...

Using projection as a method of discovery can be soooo smug. It's such a powerful paradox that even though the dynamics of it can be super understood, each of us are still subject to how it is what it is, and what it can't be simultaneously.

The most useful way I've practiced grokking the innards of my theory of projection is by reading palms. Reading palms is "saying what you see" as a way of soothsaying or fortune-telling. Well, in a way it is, but more importantly it's a slick way of getting to hold hands with a lotta people of both genders day in and day out for as long as you're fool enough to attract a crowd to make it happen. It's not always easy to trick them into having one of the most intimate conversations they're ever gonna have for their entire life, and with a perfect stranger they'll never see again as a unspoken proviso.

It's a very ancient, addictive path to follow. I not only told the people whose palms I read my heart-felt impressions, but my doing that elicited heart-felt impressions, however fleeting, from them in return. It's a special situation such that if it's practiced by a local who won't disappear could get them murdered as a false priest who takes confession as the basis for blackmail. Hey, who wouldn't do that? Me. I should have I suppose, but that would blow my chance to be intimate with people. Nobody wants that. Unless they're just assholes, then...

That's one of the ways you take your life into your own hands by playing around with the occult. It is sayed from old that God works in mysterious ways, and no human can gnow the mind of any of the gods. That's why they gods, and earthlings ain't.

The real problem with entering the underworld is that the consequences of one's actions is hard to "see" in the darkness. That's hardly a threat in light of the species flaw that governs homo sapiens topside, however but it's easy to acquire karma almost innocently in the blink of an eye, and never get past being a newbie. What a drag, man.

The one factoid about learning to read people is that you is people too. If they're subject to the species flaw of homo sapiens, and you're a homo sapiens, and the flaw applies to every single member of the species without exception, that flaw makes every prophecy about you. You gotta be really, really aware all the ti-me you playing around with this dynamic or you can sink your own ship by shooting yourself while standing on deck in both feet. Glub... Glub...

Most occult practices are designed to overcome the species flaw. Success in reaching the probably mythical end game is reputed to be slim pickings. No blame.
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