And so on and so on as the day goes, and it flows on outward and the sun shines and the trees sway and a plane flies on above, and it is not brutally overcast, but it has been raining and the rain is always a nice thing when I don’t want to water the plants, so it’s a nice thing right now. It’s sunny, but it’s overcast, but the sun is getting stronger and shadows are becoming more defined, and shade and shadows share a relationship that makes sense as they are one and the same. And that is how the words fall out, and I think about how I wrote a letter last night to an acquaintance, and when it gets to them I wonder how it will be perceived.
Hopefully it will be read as something pleasant and I imagine that that will be the case as it was just a short and silly little thing that touched on what I felt writing could mean, and off it goes today and tomorrow it will be elsewhere. It won’t be with me. It will have gone and left and travelled a distance greater than I do at any given moment, and there’s something nice about that, I think.
That letter will see itself go through the air and off to wherever tomorrow guides, and it is no longer mine. It is something of myself but it no longer is something that is me. It will be gone and become someone else’s, as it were. That’s pretty neat.
It will get through this weather and hopefully find itself in better weather after all of this. Preferably inside, rather than out. I don’t know, but I hope.
The sun is getting brighter, so I’m going to assume that the clouds are clearing up quite a bit. But there’s still a bit of a pallid appearance to everything outside, though maybe that’s more due to designed structure, and how that carries forward as an image and as something to be perceived, and I don’t know how these things go, really. I can only guess and surmise, and that has little to do with anything and much to do with everything, depending on how I’m feeling at any given moment in time. Such is the way of the things and such is the way of life as it finds itself upon a point that has been finely designed so as to be able to make sure that its emphasis carries forward to wherever and whenever it must.
I think about the written language and I see the weather outside, and then I realise I’m just throwing things together and where they lead, I have no idea, but I do know that at the very least I can string words together and put them in handwritten form and typed form, and I can think about why one is valued more than the other. I can think about that, and maybe I will today.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:06:38
Bit of a mess. Nothing else to say, really.
Written at work.
Stupidity Hole 