Controlling your Destiny…

…the idea of being a self-made man (or woman). Writing solely as the whim arises. feeding off an inner radar of word conduced to word in finite sequence.

pause, breath, sip of coffee, groove on a tune, real, recorded, or imagined. No fight just flow. with nowhere to go but cyberspace. blink and you’ll miss it. what’s the point?

content condemned to chance. the banner, the sale, the grab, the cash. or what’s the point?

an edifice exists to support the argument, cohesion not its game anyway, like veiled ads in spam, pushing xanax or bestiality, you choose.

“if music be the food of love, play on, give me excess of it that in surfeit i may sicken and so die.”
if you can’t name the play it doesn’t matter, but if you knew that Orsino who says it, is like a love-sick cow…hurumph and moo-moo.

The ‘don’t ever give away this ring’ thing happens in this play as it does in others. like the ‘i’ll switch places with someone else in bed-trick’ it was a popular device to further the comedy or tragedy.

damn if i’d been a Roman i’d ‘ve had musicians playing during my nightlies. Dying fall, curling toes, hedonistic heaven! who needs devices one might ask?

The intersextualisation and intersexuality follow intellectual and intertextual mirrors. It’s all truth and smoke screens and lies and deceits mixed as honestly as one can to justify the lie. A conundrum meant to delight and confuse and amuse. ta guele!

amuse ma bouche cherie. brain drain on caffeine and nicotine and very lean slices o venison. rhe-yaersing for shiekhsbare is bad bad thing. munch munch mushy mushy.

Made it thus far? very well, much musing sincetimes i can state. jobs a-plenty and life a-buzzin with change. obamabedamned! change isn’t a political necessity it’s an actuarial need. The downslides into madness that self can make are calculated into existence by insurance companies and banks. gullibility sells.

Flawed masterpieces piece-mealed together. The story of my life, if i make it so, succeeding without effort. Assisted by nonchalance and nonsense equally igniting the flame within cliche’s bonfire. The awareness of awareness and other levels of madness and paranoia identifying with the dark within. Circles and spirals.

So now, so near. Sentic cycles anyone?