FLUFF: Frequently, I discover words with hidden meaning, shining like coins in a handful of fluff, apple seeds and other down-the-back-of-the-sofa leavings. Some are too precious to share and I secrete them away. Others I spend cheaply on rigged slot machine verbiage. Mostly they sit waiting to be written usefully. Adding insight, lending moment to my day.
NONSENSE: Foraging amongst the dahlias For Cinderella’s lost slipper, I am Barbie magic made manifest, I am Germaine (sodding) Greer’s antifem, I am Super Mum with gumboots on.
ABSURDITY: The best nonsense is always spoken in the middle of the afternoon while heading north on a train bound for a smallish beige town, and so it was that the occupants of second-class carriage BG1754 found themselves gripped by a kind of eloquent hysteria as they rattled around the final bend in the tracks before the steep descent to the weatherboard station at Claggy Peat.
‘The lampshade on my head is for my bright ideas. I won't be able to convey them until Monday, when my curtain gets out of the dry cleaners.’ - Bauvard, Some Inspiration for the Overenthusiastic
so last night i was kicking rocks at reality- trying to flip the entire universe like a pancake but the moon laughed at my fruitless toil for the universe exists in paradox- and in my night watch i dug into the soil and ended up on the shoulders of our planet watching her inhabitants try to make sense of imperceptible subjects such as why who has sealed all things within her palms to bar philosophers who have made gods of reason i dare to worship existence- to be smothered in the beauty of what is and is with or without description. and so i look inward to quest(ions) which are themselves, answers- as i am a universe.
I shoved the absurdity into the woodpile The fire was crackling and raging Licking the bottom of the *** that is already worn Demons and ghosts and phantoms of people who went crazy are dancing inside Why are you moving it, how tiring! The cat in the room asked Why don't you join us, how stupid! Red ***** on the chopping board asked No, I said, no I used ridiculousness to pile firewood higher The fire will not go out in nine hundred and ninety-one days I'm going to use this fire to cook, bathe and change clothes
When reality is more absurd than even magical realism stories...
Why should you study? And persevere? And listen? And write? For people-- For the people you'll see, for there are just few you'll. And still fewer among them, who will be around to see you.
In a makeshift heaven of this world, This world fits right in- not without gaps, Not the best close-packing ever. Which lets you think and shift the pieces forever.
Not at all exciting, if you want to See it that way. But do you have a choice-- Except all the the ones you haven't tried already? Hinged to the far side of moon You might be, but wither you'll soundlessly off this grand tree. So a fair chance there is you might see, where this is going and realize soon: You won't know if science has advanced, You won't know if you've made enough amends, You won't know anything except for the people you'll see, even what they've to say, you've to understand.