hanging my tomorrows on the bones of yesterday

I used to think I wasn't the stick-to-it sort of person because I've never stuck with the expensive and impressive forms of education. I've been realizing that that's not true, I just needed to learn things they don't teach in schools. Maybe now that I don't belong in a straight jacket, I should go back and try college again sometime when I have money.


Books are like clocks to me. The things I've written and the ones I've read each take me back to specific points in time. And time? Is not linear. Not book time. It's collections of moments, which is why I don't feel my age. Or any age in particular. I don't live in years, or count them. Years happen to other people. I measure time in turning pages, and the papers' swish drowns out the aggravating ticking.

There is a method by which what we want creates who we are. If you want something, you're going to be looking for it, and paying attention to areas of your life in which you may happen upon it. You will hone the skills of perception needed to detect it, and this at the cost of not paying as much attention to the other fields of your life. From this truth can be derived these things: (a) that you may clock someone and divine what they want by what they pay attention to and what they do not (b) that you may pinpoint weaknesses based on the null areas where no attention is being paid and (c) that only those who desire nothing can acheive a perfectly balanced attentiveness to their surroundings. This is probably the unspoken foundation of Buddhism.

For the fairies
Teasing the baby, spooking the horse,
Planting thorn briers into the gorse,
We like drinking milk, whiskey and stout,
Singing songs, picking fights, passing out.
We are the fey! Do ye know us at all?
We don't like walls, we're not very tall,
But we like drinking halls, alcohol,
Dancing at balls, and catching that ball.
We don't like iron, but
Iron.
Will.
Fall.
We'll have it back, child.
We'll have it all.