Random thoughts and reflections:

Words are just a collection of letters that amount to an idea. 
They are hooked and barbed though.  They find their way into your
ears and get themselves stuck in your brain.  No matter how much
you want to extract them, their meaning, the context in which they were
spoken, you can’t.  You can try but that will only tear and rip
you from the inside out.  That would hurt less than them rolling
around in your mind reminding you though.

WanTea said something to me today on the phone
“True words are not beautiful, beautiful words are not true.”
True or not now some beautiful words still sit in me and tear at the walls. 

I was at Tim’s house last night and while out smoking a cigarette I
said a prayer.  It will not be answered but sometimes just talking
to god is enough.  Sometimes confiding in someone you know won’t
judge you is what everyone needs.  In that prayer I learned that I
have all the tools needed to be happy, to make someone else happy, and
be everything it is I and others want me to be.  I have them I
just need to learn to use them.  I thought I knew how to use some
of them but that didn’t really work out so I guess my training has yet
to really begin.  Like Yoda said “Do, or do not. There is no
try.”  I won’t try anymore I will only “do” for there is no “do
not” left in me.

I refuse to let anything stand in my way again, not myself, nor the
opinions of other people, nor circumstance, nothing.  Look out
world you have a confident, driven, and, to be frank, angry Crotch on your hands.  I
hope you know what you’re in for.


This line has nothing to do with the above.  I just finished reading Camus’ The Stranger,or L’Étranger as the original book is called, and really liked this last line:

“As if that blind rage has washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the
first time, that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to
the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself –
so like a brother, really – I felt that I had been happy and that I was
happy again. For everything to be consummated, for me to feel less
alone, I had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators the
day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.”


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