i call that a zenith... you're cackling at that point,
you're no longer laughing, you've actually reached
a point where your laughter becomes
     transcendent with regards to laughter per se...
you're laughing the following, in brackets
   ha(,) ha(,) ha(,) ha(,) ha(,) ha(,)
                             that comma? it's the pinnacle
of laughter... it's a k...
                      welcome to the family crovidæ.
                             this is an antidote to buddhism,
an antidote to mindfulness...
                                     my head's empty, that's as
mindful as i'll ever be... the point being?
       can i laugh after attaining this? can i cry when
listening to a beautiful song?
           if i can't? well... depression     /        apathy...
depression really becomes a conceptualißation
   of either apathy        or           leθargy (léthārgy) -
                                                               ­               (ar-g-ē).
a bit like whistling, listening to spring,
  the birds mating, and foster the people's
song: pumped up kicks blasting in the background...
           laugh till you choke -
    once more the tetragrammaton...
                               one H for sighs...
like the colour black (yin) - sighs... consonants absorbing
vowels (breaths) -
                              and the other H for laughter...
like the colour white (yang) - laughter... consonants
         spewing vowels (laughing)...
you still need to transcend this comprehension...
till you reach the zenith of the second H of the tetragrammaton,
and, all you seem to be doing... is pronouncing
   the letter K quickly, with no vowels nearby...
    it could be compared to choking... but you're just
laughing...
                   why does western society require its association
with the orientals, akin to buddhism?
               whi-... ha ha ha... whis-... ha ha ha... whist-... ha ha ha
      whistl... ha ha... whistle! ha ha...
             and you do whistle to the song (already mentioned)...
well... the song is half the story...
  the other half?
   an article in the sunday times' style magazine...
             headline?     we're watching you,
           by a, francesca angelini...
        (by the way, i don't own a mobile phone,
      i, myself, am content with my own mobility...
   these people, who own mobile phones,
                     have a wheelchair lodged in their heads:
i'm mobile! i'm mobile! look at me, do a wheelie!
                 i'll put the phone down for five minutes,
  just before i go to bed!) -
                                    that article is what really prompted
the giggles...
                      i was building a six-pack at the same time...
laughter? crunching the stomach...
                 oh, the article? the find my friends app.
                if i wanted that sort of friendly 1984, that sort
of innocence, i'd locate myself, e.g. on a friday, 3 weeks ago,
on the ******* for 3 hours, trying to dangle out a ****
    from a contaminated fish & chips from a take-away...
       follow the perfume...
                               it really is a friendly 1984, isn't it?
god, the days when the internet was stationary...
only accessible via the computer or laptop...
                           i'm still way back in the late 90's of
the 20th century, and the early 00's of the 21st century...
    but at least i don't have a wheelchair lodged in my head
to tell me i'm able to walk a mile, five times, in a circle.
  the voyeurism aspect of the app. doesn't really bother me,
as a reader...            how long does a period last?
     a day or two? well... if i were a woman,
    two days of *******... third day?
   waking from a dream... snap-quasi-hallucinations
   of **** comparisons...     o.k. i'm done... the period ended...
another month of fasting from stroking the *******.