Plexitude

Plexitude.

The…. dooo….

of them outreaching embracing being together for each other…

plexitude, in the sn.

for IT.

The feeling, the being of a  man, a being, me, ME, holding a leaf in one hanfd , outreching towards the dazzling sky up ahead, forward, in the horizon, shining,

and hte leaf, shining lik e a million stars,
shining,

Plexitude………………

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Why tell?

To rejoice :)

To celebrate, to share…

in this wonder-filled, furrubulous, magnabulous day.

wushulaptfumrasolupucesabilumidufosplmidufaqnpicstaxxay.

shadows of shadows of shadows of shadows of shadows of shadows of shadows………….

duck duck duck duck turning duck turned duck water shift wave wave wave wave wave wave wave meet wave wave wave wave….. back onto the wall, offf onto the sunlight.

duck duck duck. duck.

Plexitude.

they lay, they hold, they enjoy. they love. grasp, shift, whisper, caress, pull, hold, rest. Ressssssssst.

Hooolllllllllld. In llllllllove. Llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllove. Plexitude.

Me pushing towards the corner of the boundaries of the universe, on the tip of the angular cliff atop the abyss of nonexistence…

I hold the leaf. Bright, Great, Complete. Leaf reaching out into the Sunlight, together with my intention, my arm, myself. My body, my eerything.

To the sunlight.

Plexitude.

Always here.

Before

What do tod when so many emotions and feelins and sesations crowd up within me, seeking flow, seeking outlet, expression, freedom, projection? They pile up right by the exit door, waiting for it to open, begging for a ticket out. The air gets stuffy and drowned, how did all these emotions get here? They were flowing. They used to go in and out whenever they pleased. And now suddenly they pile up, they sit, they wait. By the door. And that piece of my heart is now heavy, so many emotions piled up, wanting to go that way. Why can’t they? Why won’t they swim?

They start to. These words… the solid door has become a fine filter wall, and now my emotions push against the filter, seeping out colored spaghetti strips of want, too-late speech, left-out feeling, disattention, disinterest by others, silent frustration, and th efeeling of wanting to hug everyone at once but not having sufficient nor long-enough arms to do so. They all squeeze through, slowly, word by painfully slow word, in struggling relief. They do. They flow. But ohhhh so slow……..

Like so many times before.

Used to it? I don’t want to be used to it. I… …  have no idea what I want. A social group, I found it. People that will accept me no matter what I say or do/ I found them? “No matter” might be too strong a phrasing. Receptive, for sure. They’re around! They’re here! Why, then…. such void and pain and lack of fulfillment?

Feeling of left-out. Again, not your first time, sailor. But I don’t WANT to numb myself to it! I want to express it in fullness, in a primal, unabashed flow. Bashfulness remains, though. Office? Cry here? Yes, OK. Talk to someone here? (Go to a psychologist”, they’ll say. No. Friend! I want a friend.
Who?
Alex.
Will he want to listen to sob stories?

That’s what I am so afraid of. That people, upon listening to my many sob stories, will refject me and leave me hanging out further out in the void. And ohh I can imagine that would hurt.

But things hurt. Now. Even.

I just….. it feels like an ivnvasion to take them adn say “hey, I have this thing I want to tell you. It will take 2 or 3 hours. You’re fine with it, right?” And subtly impose a social/moral/pity obligation on them to listen to me even though what they really want is to get out and havea  bite and return to their bed to check up on email, facebook, and Netflix.

I want to play.

I found a playmate! She…. just…….. divided attention. No blame, and no…. I would like to not have any more expectations! No expectations then. Let us play whenever the wind blows taht way.

Thank you, pointful words.

Modes of Communication

• Story:
• Accident:
• So I was longboarding down the sidewalk, and there were these cut-down palm trees all around. I was going pretty fast, so I bumped into them, flew into the air in a front-flip, and landed among all the leaves, and a stick cut a little bit into my back and drew out some blood!
• Achievement:
• So I was longboarding down the sidewalk, and there were these cut-down palm trees all around. I rearranged them to make a cushion, and then I went down at a really fast speed, I bumped into them, flew into the air in a front-flip, and landed among all the leaves, and a stick cut a little bit into my back and drew out some blood! It was awesome!
• Reflection:
• So this and that happened, you know, so I think I learned now that being a good friend also means being there for them when they need it.
• Request:
• Please do this.
• Emotional expression (seek empathy/outlet):
• Apology.
• Excitement.
• Sadness.
• Anger.
• Frustration.
• Response
• Sharing
• Thought of this, would like to share with you.

SC Foam Mattress

My mind is bright awake and seeks no rest whatsoever. It lays through my perception. Not the mind. Awareness itself. Like a hard-on that won’t come back down after a dose of Viagra? My Consciousness is just here.
"Why sleep? What is that?” And it just wants to keep perceiving, being. Creating.

Does not feel like recounting. Feels like feeling. Now.

Left cheek down on the memory foam mattress. Body as well, face down, symmetric with legs stretched out past the end of the bed, flat hips and torso, elbows beside my head’s sides, wrists resting gently on the laptop, resting for my fingers that enjoy the typppping. Enjoy the click clack click of the keys. Of the words flowing. Flow. mmm. maybe body bringing sleep. will see.

The Arm

have you ever noticed how images move up and down… they morph

when you look up and down your window the side crystals around your window that line your door?

front door?

The car seems statis from the center clear window.

yet from the ones in the border with the wood,
the surface…

it shifts. It changes with how we move. We move up, it moves up. We move down, it moves odown.

And so this world.
And so rhis world.

It all moves…

According to how WE move.
It is ALL like that.
We project upon the world.
WE, the real WE.
Are not the shadows the arm makes or points at.
We are THE arm.
And everything the ARM is made of.
LIFE.