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Having resolved the business plan, I can now move on to the next process: to MY '1, 2, 3.' Still, I feel it always pays off to play it smart. Therefore, I have - slowly but surely - been cashing in on the favors owed. I had hoped I would never have to request favors of many of these people but, just in case, have attempted to remain on good terms with them. I have never, however, led them to believe that I am anything other then what I am.
Here shortly, I will be purchasing another notebook and several ink pens. I feel it is best for me to begin keeping private journals again, ones that I do not intend to allow to be published until several, several years after my death (and possibly the deaths of my children, and even grandchildren). I began writing so as not to lose myself but, by sharing myself in this manner with the world, I am beginning to do just that. I can't let that happen. I've come too far to let that happen.
My Mother and I discussed the wisdom of keeping these journals to begin with. What if I had never begun writing them? What if I were to simply burn them? What if I were to simply cease and desist all of this nonsense? I think I would die, that is what. I think I would finally and unequivicably die.
I'm barely hanging on by a string as it is.
I've been playing a game of chess with my life and I do not even know where half of my pieces are more then half of the time. Not only that, but my chess board - and what pieces I have managed to unveil - is played out far too much like Alice's in Wonderland's Queen of Heart's game of Croquet. I rarely yell, "Off with his/her head," however. I yell. I curse and I think, "If only I had a 35 millimeter." I think, "Bang bang bang." I think, "heh heh. Bonnie and Clyde." I sigh, "Where is Clyde." I grimace, "I don't need no mofo Clyde."
"Rat a tat tat." I think.
I think things that shouldn't be thought, THEY say. I often wonder what they think. I know the thinks that people think. I've heard them thought.
I've heard them talked.
A chessboard, dark and light. A queen, lost and forlorn: but kicking the ass out of all the other pieces, even her own. A rook, playing both sides. A king, playing a piano (it is the white queen's) and cackling and, beside him, sits another queen - both are as black as the knights which flay them -
or are they?
It is truly all a matter of perception.
"A chessboard is divided by dark and light to differenate between the sides." There are, however, 'fairy pieces' for games which are considered ... unstandard ... unusual ... ???
It is truly all a matter of perception.
Earth is no longer a garden in which a soul can thrive. It is no wonder that we are all going mad!
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Posted by WaxWings on 2007-11-29 10:17:45 | Rating: | Views: 76
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