keep it bouncin’

Problems arise because we sentence ourselves to misery as we desperately cling to the periodic: to subjugation, subordination, (and hopefully to) parataxis and endless internal punctuation: unwilling to accept the fact of the stem: that no matter how eloquently we articulate, new sentences break us up, and no matter how desperately we pursue the apposite, newer sentences keep blasting us apart, and no matter how loudly we chant, with eyes turned inward and indexfingers earward: against the flow of ever newer sentences we are hapless, -ly miserable. Either excessively expectant or heavily hesitant, or both, we’d rather have everything turn on our commas, dashes, brackets, colons and semicolons or other forms of short-term suspension: the ceaseless interjection that is meant to keep us grounded, against the always already of the next sentences of our lives: the sentences that are already unfolding and always abruptly descending, always descending and already bluntly unfolding, into the succeeding pieces, into the succeeding sentences… and paragraphs.. and pages.. and chapters.. and whatnot..

This is how we dwell in resentment, for instance, against self or other or circumstance, making, practically, an indecipherable botch of the text of our prosaic lives. Alas.

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About M

http://about.me/kaposvarim
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