The horoscope was not only wrong this morning, but quite, 180 degrees. In a state of tranquility, assailed by ghosts of the past, and as you know, we have to put these away else we be tormented endlessly. However, it doesn't broach present "inner peace", as I still say I'm "in a good headspace".
Just more like, a beguiling little footnote, maybe.
As if, in remembrance of some old wrong, I yell along at the procession, as if to confirm, that I too am here, I, too, am along the chain, but a link in the chain, a cog in the machine, though most often feeling like I'm just sort of watching it, rather than participating, no?
"cest la vie, say the old folks. It goes to show you never can tell." And yet, quite on the tip of the tongue, to relate a little parable to the masses, the throngs of singular readers.
And yet, we are warned of triggers, in the PTSD and bipolar universes. That sometimes those thought bring their own moods and emotions, sort of a filter, a gel placed on the stage lights. And to say of the past, "bought off and got clocked."
And I see from the perspective of one, its like, a response to an urge, an automated kind of pumping action, as if to slap one on the head with a newspaper, or put a splayed hand across the buttocks, induces action.
But the true experience is a kind of horror, dulled of its edge by time, in which one, nicely removed the concourse, watches the action of the individual parts with a lamenting heart.
So, that's the way it was, this day in history, old thoughts assailed, kind of "re-lensing" the whole thing, as there were kind of buzz words, but in retrospect, one can see into more of the workings of others through a kind of hindsight. And yet, we are derisively told that looking that way is like "looking out your ass."
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