Nodding in the direction of the hump in the throat of the days of the week
> That is to say this, blogging. It isn’t addictive.
Oh? So then why do my keyboard chicklets feel like used syringe tips while typing this? ;–)
> .::DEFCON 201 Meet Up — February 2020 — Hackers Lonely > Hearts Club::.
Oh, man.. that sounds sooooo cool. So wish I were enough a participant for it to make sense to attend... but, alas, I barely have time for what I'm already doing in life. But the thought of it: oooh, chills!
I keyboardly beg to differ – especially if “here” means “write.as”....
(NOTE: there was no evidence it did.. it's just those words seemed the least metaphoric of the post, and thus most arguable....)
I'm rather glad I've been able to acclimate to – and accept – a place like this being sufficient for my community and/or blabberistic needs.
Fortunately, the separation is an illusion right up there with the snake in the rope, the fire-brand-tip-generated circle of light in the dark, the barren-woman's son, etc., etc.
Ohmygosh, what a beautiful negative space instance!
And I'm very happy that #daishinstephenson led me to letting go 26 march 2018!
> tree and plant shadows on wall
And yet all the same for being shadows on mind's wall....
Beautiful post overall.. but the above was my favorite part... the slightest curling shavings of memories of Fleetwood Mac's “Gypsy” coming loose in this sector of mind, to no doubt blow hither and yon in dance about my feet on the sidewalk of my day....
For the love of the sound of a turntable needle being dragged across the vinyl of where gathering storms of thoughts were huddled in the sharing of one crumply tired filterless cigarette....