Surpris 12:23, September 14, 2011 (UTC)

I only realized the following after having written what follows. Thus I offer precaution: It is September. I become brooding in September. November is when I feel vacant. Where is October?

Such an entrance. Overrated much? Viewed through a lense. Longevity questionable. Too beautiful

Here’s the hitch: viewed through the view of the view of self reflectant view when times align and cast a long shadow

A few outliers make a horrible sample

Estimates have overshot somehow still. Again, some outlier probability

She went out to get a few things, came back with a whole new house. Said, “Honey, we’re a motorhome family now,” and proceeded to dump plates over the poor sod

This is what the future holds for her. She doesn’t know this yet. At the moment, she’s glancing over Walmart rings. She isn’t going to buy any. She doesn’t know his ring size. She’ll let the cheap ring in a ring hold the front

How does one transition from Walmart rings to motorhomes? I’m not sure. It isn’t really a causality here. Multiple things are coming to bear in a person’s life simultaneously. Sometimes these things happen to contradict, and for a moment the world contradicts itself. We call these miracles

But this isn’t really that big of a leap. She went out to get a small symbolic life committment, and came back with a big literal interpretation. Time to change things up and toss these plates out. She might as well throw out the poor sod while she’s at it

That final point is the miracle

Sometimes I’m worried when I lay in bed that one day this entropy thing is going to settle the dust and there won’t be anymore miracles to ruin people’s lives in favor of the miraculous few. Then, quite contradictably, I try to justify a set of universals. This contradiction of contradiction is my own miracle. So sad it wasn’t in my favor

Like any good fire, one has to know how long a miracle can be held before it leaves burns

But I didn’t get in my last point: it’s the idea that if this all has to end, you might as well get it over with. This fatalism proves unsuitable given things which must be experienced. Here’s another simile: as a recipe might call for time, and this time must be given, so too must ideas. & people

She didn’t give him any time. By the time he’d put on his glasses from waking up from a nap, he was already shoved into a bag and thrown out the door. All well, since the house was about to get run over. Important information I never got around to mentioning: somehow their house was so small that the motorhome was indeed larger. Which made running over the house a not entirely impossible task. Also families don’t need children. Nobody needs children

So here was some small house ran over and replaced with a motorhome with a pile of bags in the front yard. Priceless

Some bullshit philosophy everybody aspires to inspired this incident. Some crooked words were written, and so it was written

He hadn’t had much time to think on the matter. After ripping himself out of the garbage bag, and finding his home run over, he decided that he might as well check out the motorhome

The answer to “How much did you pay for this?” now included the cost of their small house

Here he was, in a motorhome, while she threw various motorhome includes. Her explanation: I don’t know what I want

His thoughts: Things are so unnecessary

She’s got nothing to throw but she’ll throw it all her own by nightfall

This is that is this is that. This is that but it isn’t

Oh miracles! This is the perfect way to talk about what everybody knows but nobody says. So lost in these circles, torment all around in these cycles but by some other miracle we’re left without a fixed point

This is what that isn’t

Theorems lie. This is neither apology nor confession. This is without the respect of a requiem. Only the facts tell it so. I tell it otherwise: this is without solace, for this is seizing the ceased for the opportunity to spell out some neologism that Finagle would be proud of

She’s got a scarf to prove his point. She wears it on backwards to see what outrageous looks people are willing to make for such modest delights

He’s standing on the curb. Men are throwing the bags into a truck full of bags. Before taking their hands to leave this mess of a place for some junk of a place, he notes to her. This note is what she’ll have to keep her company in the coming days of motorhome epiphanies and manifesto burning. This note is:

Save me not

Tied by the uncited words which preceded this note, mutated with Forgive to Please help:

Please help me if I’m out of line

How that reply contradicts that treatment which cured these still blistering wounds. Oh miracles!