

Hold It, Turn ItAnymore, nothing is separate. Not that it ever was. Everything is interconnected, interleaved, strobing, bouncing back and forth, zigging and zagging, oftimes capricious but never random. Reach out to touch it, and the web distorts around you as your arm unfolds. You're part of it, bitch. Pay attention.Hold It, Turn It
Your eyeballs swivel to watch it and the beams of your perception razor through the all, touching, grasping, pulling, slicing, pushing, radiating. This is the joke, the distortion, the bit we just don't get yet. This is changing the outcome by measuring it. This is creating the Universe by observing it. This is the big bang, wavic


I Am Alone...I am alone...I Am Alone...
...but I am strong.
The transcendence of ritual is not its abandonment. Acceptance, and bemused participation, life becoming recreation. Pray with your eyes open, look into the mirror, watch your gods watching you, and know within that there's no difference but show difference. Think about something, anything, start small, start somewhere.
Hold it.
Turn it.
Catch the light.
Inside my head are spinning gla


This Is How We Do ItSometimes you think you've let go of it, or at least loosened your grip to the point where your knuckles are no longer white, and then a stray something hits you out of nowhere, snags your thoughts like a fishing lure.This Is How We Do It
Look up. Flicker of hope, some of it innocent. Mask it. No one noticed.
And this isn't about the the split-second resurrection of buried daydreams, and it's not about the crash of disappointment half a moment later.
It's the frustration of progress not made. It's the annoyance of revised emotional proprioception; of winding back the odometer; of scratching out boxes you assumed it was ok t
Yeah, now I can see your artistic flow!
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Come with me, take my hand, follow the star to my dream land...
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Lesson of the Day: Do not cover up a bad smell with a good smell because the bad smell always wins.
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