A layer of feeling, only occupying a quantum of space in a 3rd dimension, begins somewhere in the heart.  Then it gets pumped up to my brain, where forces mold and meld it as it bangs around.  Its poked, proded, and scientifically verified.  From there it moves down to my mouth, and it comes out.  Then, the world stops.

Its a Code for Rubberbands

There is, from time to time, a warmth that fires through my veins.  It travels in the manner of alcohol, because it was first ingested, then it went to my heart.  From my heart, it traveled to the rest of my body, including my brain.  Its effects on my brain are profound and deep, you see, because its altered the structure of my brain.  There are certain organs in my body that attempt to get rid of it and process it, under the misguided assumption that while it takes one form, it actually represents another.  Its the sort of involuntary reaction that is created for our own protection, but one that I wish, from time to time, we had the power to override.  Sort of like the traction control on a sports car.  In any case, like intoxication, it overwhelms my system.  Then I take in more and all the previous work, done without my approval, is obliterated in any case, rendering the entire process moot.  But then there are times, sort of like a hangover, where it hurts a little bit.  

Unlike alcohol, it can't be made into some sort of reductive biological calculation.  It has similar effects of delirium, but its more like a steady euphoria that has no ill side effects, merely the unauthorized, unapproved meanderings of otherwise well-meaning processes.  

I'd disregard my very first post, if I were you.

Remember that thing I Just Wrote

About not making this blog about my personal stuff?  Well I've just developed a situation which has more or less cancelled out my desire to write about a lot of that stuff, so I'm probably going back and forth.  But nobody reads this so it should be okay.  Anyway, in that spirit, here is my current and lingering thought about my new problem:

"ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh crap."

Edit: IHSFfM

Something I Wrote

I was looking through my documents on my laptop and found a file called "Something I Wrote."  I had forgotten I wrote this, but when I saw it, I remembered how when I first wrote it, I wasn't proud of it.  Like pretty much everything I write, I hated it.  But then seeing it again, I am sort of proud of it, but I have no idea what it means (well, I have some idea.)  You be the judge:

It slowly wriggled free from his hands and he tightened his grip, but his fingers still stretched further and further until they were all parallel and it escaped. It fell the floor and started to float away. He crawled after it but there was no light. He stumbled around after it but it was gone. Then, from panic to defeat, he sat alone, his legs sticking out, and he dropped his head. He breathed in, deeply, and looked straight up at the sky and screamed. He screamed and screamed, as loud as he was able. He challenged the sky with his scream. The sky split, then. It divided into three parts: one was sadness, and it was black. The second was anger, and it was red. The third, though, was empty. The sadness black faded and the anger red bled away, but the emptiness lingered above him. He screamed and screamed and tried to break the sky, but soon he was mute and still it rested above him. Then he began to gesture, violently, as if to scare off the gray. But still it lay above him, and he was silent, and he was exhausted. Then, slowly, he nodded off to sleep. Unable to scare it away, he surrendered instead. After his head finally, slowly, hit the ground, the gray came down and enveloped him and he was gone.

My triumphant return

So after an extended hiatus from blogging, I've decided that my inability to vent my feelings with regards to lofty, fancy-pants issues is best resolved by returning to blogging. So I expect to post mostly political/social/religious stuff here. Not that that's very exciting, but I don't expect it could possibly be any more boring than me talking about my personal life.