Category Archives: story

Semi-Sir Sleeps-a-Lot

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We are heartily triggered by thirsty energy. Dum-dum geniuses know that: affect lies beyond a thin layer of cognition! Sometimes, I am just an upper-middle djinn (by my own persistent evaluation) awaiting summons…

One may need to exploit systemic flexibility to keep sane. A whimsical dream girl might fall for a free philosopher–but either way, why be technical about love? It may turn away the unworthy to build a more sturdy psychological empire, to accommodate those with forlorn hearts.

Sometimes, to fall out of love could be a win for sobriety. It can lead one to recognize their special relation with the universe! Love is the most objective shield from wicked magick…

I must be wary for anyone who could become a victim of my wrath! The impulse for play is best paired with a romantic plan. Interpersonal relations are best when not fraught with friction.

Join the cult of respect and embark on a pop-punk voyage. There, one may find their own un-reconciled darkness–at such a time, the conviction of friendship can save our lives. A proper life analysis can begin after such vicious tests.

Ironic though it is to type here: “life is not reducible to the internet”. You have to moralize your being for the spirit of Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) to come save you! He will deem you sacred, therefore safe…. There is no broken life path.

Life phrasin’

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Estarto

“Necessary feelings, only.” I’m feeling the white-hot feeling of self-respect! We are all convenient conflators across a rich range of emotionality. Love torn in two is not a whole love (a hole has been shorn into it…). Chanda was impregnated into the womb of my mind by Mama~

He who is triggered–in the soft, weak, emotional sense (really, the only kind)–loses. Minimum perturbations can shatter him. Frustration, itself, is the dark side of passion.

Yet–we are embodied souls! Love makes all of our best-argued arguments invalid (hear that, Soundness?). Roll your love up into an everlasting burrito of Love–for Chanda! A real rajma burrito for din…

Breaking through the hubristic debris, I back down away from certain situations. These include lonely, social app down scrolls during the wee hours of night. Screens are unconscious, symbolic imprints engendered via the “pure” semiotic encounter. (They don’t mean anything; not inherently!)

Curse–nay, bless–my moderate psychological sensibilities!

She was just an emissary of the eternal feminine. I have been doing my relative best! With the yearning for adventure on my heart–Zoom panoplies; “texy tecthics” (whatever they may be, sexy text-tonics…?). 

Chromebook questions on that latter one, anyone? I am but a simple tutor, my liege! Ask away, m’ boi…

Psychological permissibility does not extend to the phenomenon of stress-gaming. What an odd-handed endeavor…that’s the soul? (No.) No need to bypass an adventure: not when my soul is so lit up with Spirit!

What to do with a COVID-locked trail of COVID following a probable non-offender? Let him go. Let him–as you would anyone a true, blue, hue-woe-manist would. 

Finito