Sunday Morning Thoughts: 10.22.17

It is an addiction. It may be tough to notice, though. Not until you are without. Perhaps it is the widespread use that makes it seem as though it isn’t so bad. Yet, I feel as though I’ve noticed it before this. I just wasn’t able to fully understand how much of my own life was being used up.

See, my phone died. Likely part of the whole scheme. Planned obsolescence and such. I’ve had the thing for three years. No updates. Memory space was running out. It was a recipe for self-destruction. Designed lovely to coincide with the new release of the pointlessly updated new version, made by nimble little fingers somewhere in a sweat shop in Asia.

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Sunday Morning Thoughts: 10.15.17

What is it that I want to say here?

I could have sworn I had something. Somewhere in the sleep deprived delirium, looking down upon the last scraps of humanity stumble, bumbling and fighting their way down Bourbon Street. It was something sad, but poetic. A long, drawn sigh… sounding almost sweet after being strangled out.

I felt I wanted to say something, but what it might have been has since slipped away.

But what a thing it is!

To want.
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Sunday Morning Thoughts: 10.8.17

I see it there. Swaying before my eyes. As it was the day before, and before that. Always there. A different carrot sometimes, but a carrot just the same. And always the same stick.

They never mention actually reaching happiness, at least not with grand admiration. The pursuit, however, is quite the big deal. Right up there with being alive and free. To attempt to find contentment. Your own dreamt up happiness, specific or vague it may be. It is yours.
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Sunday Morning Thoughts: 9.24.17

It must be real.

As real as anything else that could be called real. Otherwise the bother would not be had to talk about it.

For as far as I can believe, all sorts of nouns have made impact upon me. Personal, historical, communal and oh, so many more. People I have met, or even those I have only read about. There are things that experience has granted, in one way or another, that have sculpted the identity I call home.
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Sunday Morning Thoughts: 9.17.17

It is a funny thing. How the only thing that matters, doesn’t matter. Or better, its place among priorities is subjective.

Ultimately. At least to us humans. It is all the stories we tell. Not authored ourselves. You are the only soul that ever gets to read the full autobiography. The matter seems to come in the stories that are told of us. About some soul. Infamous or the other type. It doesn’t have to be a good thing in order to matter. It just needs to echo.
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Sunday Morning Thoughts: 9.10.17

There is, in my opinion, an unquestionable honesty to confusion. Some great truth involved with a lack of understanding. Not knowing and admitting such to yourself. For even what we may know is vastly less than what we do not. Some may say it is hardly worth the comparison.

And yet, conversely, those who don’t know and yet create the illusion that they do are often and easily marked as liars. Some more vicious than others. Fabricating an entire existence without regard for what the reality may be. Yet even if such a monster were able to convince others indefinitely, the truth be known to he who hides it.

Right?
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Sunday Morning Thoughts: 9.3.17

For those of you regular readers. Oh! you brave few, I’d like to apologize. I’ve been dripping with a bit of unadulterated positivity as of late. And that, is not fair.

Fret not, though. My mind both waking and otherwise, has been heavy at work to check that which history has proven to produce the very events that have crafted the sharp cynicism that has made my word-working what it is. The duality is still in play, but in order to balance the one-sided portrayal of summer days, we must dive elsewhere.

And what a lovely, rainy Sunday to do so.
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Sunday Morning Thoughts: 8.20.17

Time! That bastard!

All this talk of human might… and yet at the clock’s mercy we all remain. I can hide it or dress it up any way I’d like. As can you. But the ‘tick-tock’ of inevitability can be deafening. Something we all were supposed to learn from Captain Hook, yet never quite did.

So, despite what the title may say, Sunday morning was a good while ago now. But Wednesday Afternoon Musings just does not have the same ring to it.
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