cleaning up so well (jones_casey) wrote,
cleaning up so well
jones_casey

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in which our hero tries to maintain his faith in the universe in the face of the greatest difficulty

a little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.
(borrowing from a collector that borrowed it from the incomparable oscar wilde).
my sincerity hasn't killed me yet. but there's still time.
so i made up something to believe in my heart of hearts
so i have something to wear on my sleeve of sleeves

i believe in the universe. most days.
that it knows what it's doing.
that despite all the incomprehensible wrongs that it allows,
the suffering and pain...
that there is reason and sense.
that things do work out in the end.
(where is the end?)(don't try to find it, it's already there)
that good and right prevails.
but i don't claim to have the wisdom to understand its methods.
i search for signs,
i keep open eyes and ears and mind.
and i've certainly grown.
i'm closer than i've ever been.
but that's like saying my current balcony is closer to the moon than my previous balconies.
it's true...but so far from being meaningfully true.

if it weren't for all the ways the universe speaks to you if you listen, i would've lost faith long ago.
i just wish it would speak more clearly. i just wish i could listen better.
i hope you all are listening too.
even if bythos is a punk.

i've faith that there's a soul somewhere
that's leading me around
i wonder if she knows which way is down


tuesday lxv

he wept in his pain and dismay.

presently, men were running hither and thither in all ways. the artillery booming, forward, rearward, and on the flanks made jumble of ideas of direction. landmarks had vanished into the gathered gloom. the youth began to imagine that he had got into the center of the tremendous quarrel, and he could perceive no way out of it.

the citizen now began to question tik-tok, who told in his mechanical voice about shaggy's quest of his lost brother, and how ozma of oz had sent the clockwork man to assist him, and how they had fallen in with queen ann and her people from oogaboo.

and sometimes i get nervous
when i see an open door
close your eyes
clear your heart
and cut the cord

are we human?
or are we dancer?

my sign is vital
my hands are cold

and i'm on my knees
lookin' for the answer

are we human?
or are we dancer?
Tags: memory plays, question quest
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