Intimately interviewing my intellect inside the invisible realities of internal imaginations for an invitation to examine the never ending momentum that carries my mind further and further into the outer limits of quantum probabilities for a day away from reality that is either too mundane to please me or too unreal to deliver me from my over all personality. Needing human companionship like any other breathing being yet needing the intoxication of creativity to deliver me into the infinite aspects that transport me into the sobriety of understanding myself more than others as I plod away relentlessly with being too comfortable with my overall self in ways that explaining never truly touches the surfaces of.
You know, all the why I'm this or that way when in all actuality I have no need of explaining except to know myself better, to encourage myself further, to overlook all the made to order this is all life is garbage. Left to my own devices and attitudes heaven only knows what I would dare to imagine beyond what I've known or seen or imagined in my wee hours of pondering forever mores and ever afters while I tried to humanize them in subtle languages that are in line with the order society has prepared for us to live.
Maybe it's the only thing I've ever believed I was any good at... this thing called writing and not because I was a grammatical genius but because it's the one place in my life where I'm all the way thoughtful, all the way absorbed enough to feel all of my living years alive were somehow worth while simply by carrying this one gift, this one habit, this one attribute, this one knowledge as far as words could carry me. Across ages and universes, through all time and happenstance, with or without another soul on earth around, this one skill, writing... taking words of all shapes and sizes, all depths and dimensions and spreading them across paper with every flagrant expression that I could possibly spread them in for nothing more than needing them to be there for me as I was wanting them.
Some people video play games without ever ending, some people go hunting to challenge themselves sportingly, some people go gear crazy for automobiles of all sizes and some people make crafts from bottle caps and beads. Some are musicians, others are painters, still more are digital experts in the imaging of life finding fulfillment in the process of imitating the natural world with learned illusions and equational coding while still more fill their lives with recipes new and old, traveling here and there, building this or that and in so doing find themselves involved in their own lives in a way that to them makes them larger than life. While still others find work and or exercising to their ultimate benefit in being and becoming what's inside them trying to grow.
While I in my mind am sated simply by the realizations of small scenes and meanings, little patterns of personalities, streaming sequences of phrases into paragraphs and places, intimacies of the ages, in words with other words, into whatever they want to be in the moment, just to spend time with myself during the days of my life where no one else is or can be for whatever reasons. Different from what others find interesting or appealing yet always appreciated by me as I step out of time with the what is, for what if's, and the if I weres, knowing that just like everyday life doesn't live on imagination or rendition I always have a place to go to explore another atmosphere of living for no other reason than to string into sentence a rousing line of letters to illuminate my moments alive while interviewing my intellect.
