I’m sitting at the computer waiting for the time to pass until I will leave to drive to pick up my sweetheart and head to Louisville, KY for the 2021 USA Volleyball National Championships, held over Memorial Day weekend. I’m playing in the 70+ division and can’t believe I’m actually that old. Does my disbelief make it true? Some would believe it might. So, as I was thus sitting, I was browsing some of my older writings and I came across this tidbit that I decided to share with you (if it is indeed you reading this, of course.) One of my random offerings of stream of (sub)consciousness inspiration that find their way out of my jumbled thought processes and onto the page of the computer screen. A typically strange flow of imagery and word plays that amuse me and confuse you (you’re still there, right?) and feed my creative urgings. They are hungry.
I haven’t posted here (on one of my blogs on WordPress) for quite some time, and the system has been altered such that I am not sure what I’m doing, thus much nothing is changed and all is well.
So sit back (or sit up, I’m not terribly particular on that), read the words, reread some of them (it takes two to tangle) and then continue on with your day. And I wish you a most pleasant day, as it may, as I spike this literary ball from the past (as is the accompanying photo) at you:
Contrastic perpitude devolves ambient ambivalence in both directions toward the middle. I clutter and quake in steady flux. Substantial eyes drift aground and hold fast to the slow pace. The numbers add up to a disparate loss to gain a different view of intent, all things passing on the whims of rationalization. Look again, see yourself. Fascinating boredom, I’m sure… it works for me, at least. A chair curves above the folding floor, all hands wringing hard and sharp. The end result held forth and dropped like a hint of satisfaction. Initiates start to function as fall back alternatives to comprehension in moot points, letting the entire scheme idle like a rock. Wow… that’s serious finagling. Risk is a committee activity, (with or without someone else,) so let’s all have fun! I am pleasantly distracted and let the explanations speak for themselves for the moment, giving my alert numbness a wrest for the better. Intellectual emotion tickles my fancy and places me in a clear fog from which to function. Why create new problems when the ones we face are so clearly misunderstood?
The environment of change is giving rise to the horizon of perceptions found in our hopes and fears, caught in the various dreams we have not yet felt but still strive to change to meet our thus anticipated needs, showing that what we see is not only in front of us (within this eternal moment,) but keeps peripheral activity floundering to maintain. The eyes have it lost on track. Stayed tuned for the continuing stagnation and put your best foot in its proper mouth. Well spoken, even through the mumbling.
Initiation does not preclude residual pain. This leads us up to today’s Pop Quiz Question (ready, Father Time?): Which came first, the chicken or the duck?
The wind rustles the leaves of my memories, bringing some to conscious sunlight and leaving others in forgotten shade, yet restless still. Emotions are splayed fast and furious, confounded aspirations see the blind vision, hear the voiceless sorrow, touch the ephemeral substance of acknowledgement and hit the nail on my head. The truth rings out. In a perfect world we wouldn’t be here.
Impetuous ambiguities hold firm my daily stress and keep me guessing as to which source of pain and/or frustration I will experience at any given moment.
So: it goes, around a standstill perception, giving cause to wonder at the ever centripetal view. My ear hurts, but that’s just from being spiked with a volleyball. Soon, the world will spin us off into the void. Ice cradles my dreams and darkness holds comfort just beyond awareness… the time trips, stumbles and calls us on.
Time for Volleyball