the lights. the sounds. the sparks. the talk.
tamper it down
relax
at home. a flickering laptop screen.
a dimly lit phone screen
a calm and honest command line
less lights
fresh breeze
crickets and calmness
cigarettes and coffee
letting sounds - in the room, in my head, fade into a meld of ease
easy. go. quiet
This morning felt like the perfect time to give it all up, leave it all behind - "it" being this. Strong sense of "How could it matter which way I AM represents itself to itself when the representation necessarily falls short of I AM's descriptionless glory? Why the perpetual hunt for the best wordly coffin to stuff infinite potential into? How did I AM seemingly get stuck in a broken record of a representational groove?"
etcetera