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Existential Laundry Evening


Now that I have decided not to participate in the mischief which bounces beneath me and breathes down my back, the lucky day bursts its bountiful fountains of the purest, warmest light within and around me; my love of life and the depth of my own fragile yet enormous temple of true faith is surrounded in that song of the magnificence of being; the most transcendent revolution of self becomes real.
Now that I have decided to burn the barriers of self-conscious self-doubt and self-betrayal, I decide to run into the living room wall as fast as I can and with full knowledge of the eight feet I have to build momentum. And although the pain is quite a bit more intolerable than I would have expected, not only because I thought a small jaunt of machosim might just fix or trick my mischeivious mind redirect the synapses to bigger and better ailments, my expectations are always higher than I could ever reach, and if there was a beanstalk and I caught sight of it, hell yes, I would be stacking phone books to get to those branches and know I was in for something new and cool, whether it broke my heart or set me on a path to heavenly starlight roller-rink, life is all about beanstalks, bruises, and broken branches.
Now that I have decided not to learn any lessons, I will sing you a song about it.
Now that you have decided not to give me any reasons, I will seek them forever.
Now that I have decided not to participate, I have missed the point, I have not given any reason, I have rolled the dice, played the game, and walked away.
Now tell me---you know the stories of the games, you know all the contenders - now are you going to be the dealer or are you going to be the player?
Now blow some bubbles in the wind and sigh happily in the sunny sunshiney super nothing of your immediate detachmentality.... why? Becuse you are no longer a contender.

I am gonna go lose some interest in everything now and sleep like I don't mean it.

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