IMPOSSIBLE!
Impossible that selective text I read 40 years ago and then almost as quickly forgot, could just suddenly appear one day and then become cryptically written by me in my journal
Human-brain just does not work that way.
I don't even remember 99% of what I have read today. I know it's the same book because I remember reading back then and thinking that "station wagon" was some sort of term they used for flat-bed truck, which was probably a misinterpretation by me. So let's concentrate on the facts.
I keep hoping this is preliminary activity preceding an existence of baffling uncertainty
Uncertain reality
Who among us could exist when reality becomes uncertain?
People think they could but no one really has any practice at it.
So, I think about all this in terms in me being forced into this public campaign
For one thing, I am as isolated as a free person can be here in the USA
For another, I am literally in no direct or indirect contact with any person or persons
And yet, I must - must - deliver this content out to the world
Each day I hope will be the day when it all finally makes sense
And I give more thought to the reality of reaching that point and having to adapt to a life living when it's over and wondering "what now, what do I do now, after all that"
All my life is now is: POST POST POST NOW NOW NOW
Visions in sleeping-dreams that are impossible to explain
*You* cannot understand that, the masses of you. Your life is pointless and pathetic and meaningless and *you* cannot ever understand with your ridiculous monkey-brain
Kristi: Better luck next time!
Trump: Bone-spurs is *NOT* a rejected-by-the-military euphemism for a secret-homosexual with tiny hands. And, by the way, what's that smell?
- by me, Kerry Wayne Burgess, posted by me: 07:14 AM Pacific-timezone USA Monday 11/25/2024
