Next to me, just to the left, sits a series of notes and pages. Penned in bursts through out the day, before the hope for peering in upon some formerly thunk-up wisdom even gets a moment to engage my attention, I choose now to ignore them. For whatever impulse helms this moment, be it ingenious…
Category: monday evening thoughts
Monday Evening Thoughts: 8.24.26
Is setting the master of the scene? Or are the character granted some inconsolable control? Is it the refracted light absorbed or the echoes from elsewhere vibrating meaning within the cranial prison of self? Or, is it all the amalgamated sensation surmised upon the dawn and dusk of each day? Each year? Of every life?
Monday Evening Thoughts: 8.17.26
Perhaps the lull in ambition arises from a lack of discipline. Or some twisted overfocus on all that isn’t. Perhaps it is but a constant bout with, and of self-denial.
Monday Evening Thoughts: 8.10.26
Is it the ideas that plague me? Or are they the salvation in all this being?
The Veracious Facade 