I've been posting like a drunken pronouner <coughs>, but I feel mostly silly about it for seemingly going through yet another period of so badly wanting to believe the same words could possibly have the same meaning in other word processing plants, i.e. minds
The brass tacks seem much closer to lurking about where raw attention seems to be happening, finding an opening to tunnel back as though pulling a shirt sleeve of pant leg inside out, leaving the outwardly facing boolies (mind dung?) behind.
Yet madness is seemingly so easily embraced by anything and/or everything appealing to a posited separate free-willed individual self.
Go Speed Ego Go Speed Ego Go Speed Ego, Go!
gemini://textmonger.pollux.casa/