if a godless heathen wrote a prayer for critical mass, it would be me doing the writing in blind faith hope here. would that i knew what i meant when i typed that, o believe you me. i believe it was about surrender as in let go good god, who could do that? it would not be me surrendering, this much you may accept as fact although you will only have faith to go by – and trust me i could be making this shit up, i often find myself doing that. & by find i mean, discover as in there is an element of surprise involved.
realize that i am an entity possessed by stress & yet uniquely immune by virtue of these forays into semi-conscious surrealist imagery, do you see what i mean? look: various landscapes replete with nonsense & ants. clarity? i could analyze this shit in a spreadsheet & give you ratios, baby. it is this precise, this madness.
again i must mention i’ve no idea what it is i’m saying or more accurately channeling, as in four beers & half enough sleep for a week or is it more? it might be, there were days i simply did not know where in time i was.
what is this working? with the beer & the vanilla cigarettes & the dsl & the boss & his minions out there melting metal things without goggles? fun is what it is, avoidance of home is another. & yes blogging at work, offuckingcourse i am. there are justifications: again, faith is what you’d have to have in me to believe that this is not wrong. & besides i have the security cam to tell me if they’re coming. & i’ve been otherwise quite busy. just not right this very minute, this minute is a moment & beyond, because i am not home & i have this sweet buzz & these things to reconcile & the sound on this puter doth rock muchly.