In a bog behind the house, hundreds of shooting stars, with a couple of mountain phlox bouquets standing out violetly.

Standing on top of a pyramid are the boldest of the bold, savagely smart.

Outside a theatre, a person leans against the case displaying posters for upcoming films.

Adventure never awaits.  It acts and then is gone.

A river runs through a gorge or canyon, dirty at the head, clean and clear at the mouth.

A dachshund barks excitedly.

The power of the psychoanalysed species storyline reverberates.

Why are storms brewing and not stewing?

Besides deductive forms, what other types of thinking exist?  If conductors use conductive reasoning, who uses inductive reasoning?  HVAC specialists?  What about reductive, constructive, productive, or instructive?

If groups of earthquakes, randomly selected or chronologically ordered, have no occurrence patterns, why worry about when or if they’ll occur?

Cause and effect are symbols.

Should intellectuals only call for revolutions that will be joined and fought by other intellectuals?

Or do we keep on employing the services of, and usually destroying, the large families’ children who can find no productive social position?

Alpha males and females will always find ways to pit non-alphas against each other.

Remind yourself about that last sentence whenever you interpret the behaviour of our species on the local and global scale.

Same song, new lyricist(s) for the next verse.

It’s easy to take candy from the mouths of crying babes when you’re deaf.

How many families with seven children live happily on one, two, five, ten, or twenty percent of $174,000/year salary equivalent?

The longer I live, the more I’m convinced that I should be convinced the cycles and spirals will change one day.

I return to the fact that I know better than to fool myself into believing anything.

I run simulation scenarios and create situations that best match reality with virtuality, sure that nothing sits still.

The stack of books beside me is rotating in a complex helical pattern that I barely perceive, never the same from one moment to the next.

But my conditioned brain doesn’t believe the last sentence because it sees the same stack of tattered edges sitting in the same position day after day.

Pick up one book and its potential gravity is reduced when I let go, full proof of my foolproof theory that nothing is ever the same.

“For a thousand summers, I will wait for you…” takes on such an existentially funny meaning when one compares the song’s lyrics to Camus’ “The Fall,” or listens to any promise that a promise will be fulfilled.

In my pocket I carry a candied peace, a peace of candy.

If a 14-year old woman can wisely observe in her own way, “trop de gens ont décidé de se passer de la générosité pour practiquer la charité,” then let’s forget about symbols like “hypocrisy” and move on toward concrete goals, no matter how false they truly are.

Do not c0nfuse yourself with words like peace or war, because they are paisley and plaid, two patterns imprinted on the same cloth.

change, change, change, change, change, change, change, change,

You do not see eight instances of the same thing called “change,”.

Do I give myself permission to break the NDA and tell you in your words what is unexplainable?

Do you understand how to create and manage patterns that none of us sees?

I’m happy to exist.  Other than that, everything and nothing is the same.

The last two sentences explain the unexplainable in your words.

If you treat a two-year old with the respect s/he desires, you instantly create an adult.

Reduce thought patterns to states of energy, eliminating contradictory subcultural norms, and you can create a masterpiece.

The last two sentences in your words convert the unexplainable to practical use.

That’s all you need to know.

I’ve repeated our species’ meandering thought patterns enough for one night.

I don’t have to tell you what we do with the rest of the universe that has no immediate effect on your species because we’d have to undo thousands of years of your cultural meme braiding as well as show you that the universe as you imagine it does not exist.

To the majority of you, it wouldn’t change what you plan to do in the next moment, anyway.

I’ll just go on to bed now, pretending that tomorrow is another day.

Next on the recurring list: OTH, fire-and-forget, LHC.  Start over again.

Thanks to park rangers, Brittany at Big Lots, Alyssa/Xavier/Lindsay-Blaire at Rave, Roy at Walmart, and Holly at a place I’ve forgotten.