reconciliator

the day is burned by common fuss. It is everything my redcap can do to hyde the interpret-blind between noise and the clarity of wonder.

the too turns, every day, wear and build the continuant cinder. abrade and polish are equal continua. all ingredient in that soup-aware. identity and reality; conjured and constructed by our each to cope and handle the boundaries of our decided and discovered singulars.

node to designation

i enjoy clutter, attachment, bric-a-brac, bauble, miscellany, refuse, mess, and rubble.

my shadows are stubborn and my curious are lantern-lit by nightly gnats.

i favour the attachment of obscure acronym to name or noun. asterisks, exponents, and radicals are a permanent tickle; floaters swirling about parts of speech and connecting human sentiments. accents to nuance – necessity replete.

clutter, for the majority of humans, appears to be something visited not lived with. "appears," because that is the relative madness that most humans assign themselves as indicated by the outward projection to their adjacents.

getting to the other side

on july 1 i was launched into the street by a ford focus.  my friend, camera, was destroyed but alot of people witnessed and even tried to warn me before impact.  i may have been hit worse had i not turned and slightly reacted to the oncoming car. i'd have been completed blindsided.  the car was going somewhat fast but in reverse.  i'd checked the road and was particularly alert, still, it seemed to come out of nowhere.  the people say i was thrown, that i went over the car.  one particular guy really helped me out.  seemed trained, at least at basic first-aid or response.  a nice woman got a clean towel for me to wrap my dripping arm and the guy helped to wrap it up keep it elevated and apply pressure.  the guy asked if i needed water, i said yes, and the woman went off to a nearby bar or gallery to get me some.

as i was sitting on the curb continuing to be asked routine questions for trauma victims, i noticed what other people had already seen and known,  the back window of the car had a huge hole in it like someone had blasted it with a shotgun.  at the time i figured perhaps my camera went through the window, but the glass in my elbow and the type of lacerations were proof otherwise(the fire dept. paramedics and later-on doctor would confirm this).

it wasn't a surreal experience but it did happen faster than the senses seem to be able to record.
when i turned to see those reverse lights and sensing the speed of the car i had this sense of doom, not negative doom, but that this was going to be bad; something that i might not be able to walk away from or maybe survive.  still i saw or felt more practical or perhaps observant of everything.

i did what a creature does.  i was helped  up and i took it slow, in case i was more broken than i could detect.  i seemed to be able to get up without pain or crunching sounds. so i responded to the help to get me to the curb.  i was hoping nothing was damaged but as soon as i was getting up i could feel blood coming from somewhere. at the time i thought maybe i had some severe road-rash.  the wounds were on my elbow, the side hardest to see without a mirror.  i couldn't see the gnarly evidence, others could.

i was told by the paramedics i'd definitely need stitches, but they said i'd need at least three. i went to the closest er after getting a courtesy ride by the police to my car.  oh yeah. i declined for the firedept to take me.  i mean, if it was severe enough, wouldn't they just take me?  they gave me a choice with a hint of liability-feeling issues or stance, probably because i was conscious.  how was i supposed to know i had a lacerated artery in my elbow.  how could they know?  i don't know.
i was fortunate in that i made it to the er nearest my house, after not getting much help at the first er.  i was bleeding through my original bandages but i suppose many people in an er(that first er) are used to seeing that stuff, not to mention i didn't look too beat up except for the blood all over my pants.  i was dissapointed in the first er.

the er by my house was unusully light for a friday (they told me), so i was seen right away.
i drove about thirty minutes to the er by my house and it had been about 40 minutes since the accident.
the initial dressing kept things together enough, but i couldn't have gone much longer without dripping from my bandages.  i started bleeding pretty good when the doctor took the bandages off.  there was an excellent nurse aiding and together they got everything under control.  i had to have some cat scan and xrays and glass had to be removed.

i am waiting to see an ortho-something-or-other to double check an unusual shadow on my elbow xray.  i'm sure my elbow is gnarly, i have some crazy missing skin patches that couldn't be sutured.

from around 10pm to 4+am in the morning was my ordeal.  i got to see "under siege," well partly, and "invasion" - almost all of it.

the pillow makers

". . . in their shop one can find the finest menner-batts and caterpillar leathers for leagues around. you can find your fittes quickly and take flight in the later-ons.  they are swift and precise and have a great tier to befriend any pocket book."


[gloz.]
menner-batts:  famous (pillow) fillings by the master, menner family.
caterpillar leather:  just like what it sounds like, virgan trappers cut and cure the finest.
fitte:  a kind of rhythm or tone that one has with everything they interact with. for pillow tailoring this regards the selection and choice of the constructing materials.

a skein of knot

i told a story once, of my magic uncle, but in the telling of the fascine fable the grounds loosed and nimbusly-adrift we found our station. uncles like that should warn you that, in the telling of their tales, you may find yourself stitched in the clouds.

and not too many people find it so easily recieved, their being amidst the virga at sefen tousand feets.

the relative isolate

on the topic of the isolate-feeling a human may project:

"indeed, it does not seem logical that 'my kind' are a rarity, just a rarity in discovery."

which, ultimatley, within the context of society- of human cultural constructs, is "exception"; is "rare."

c-ing

i’ve been often-told that i am cynical, or secondly that i’m contrary or being contrary, but the correct term would be questioning. i demand thinking or am sensitive to a lack of thinking. i am critical of unthinking; not entirely unable to abide but almost. it is not by choice, design, or aim, but by reaction. and though i have intellect to intervene the “event,” that is what i act upon, i have to purposefully steer myself (by utilizing heavy influence) away from my adverse or repulsed reaction to the unthinker. it can be tiring to do so. and why steer away from that reaction? my reaction to unthinking, to unbalanced thought or dynamic presence of mind and body, is my nature. i am steward to that nature, sentinel and guardian. i represent what i feel is best as do each of us. if i do not fully represent what i am, what my dynamic is, no one will. i proffer what i feel is best for the entire, not just my paltry singular dynamic. i find all connection important. my thoughts and awareness lay in the whole, not just the parts, but where i see the parts equally as the whole.

to note:  many will misuse or by misconception or lack of understanding/research or discovery will say that i am playing a “devil’s advocate” – but this is a narrow-minded label since i am not acting “for the sake of” nor am i purposefully picking stances less favoured. often, people will say “devil’s advocate” when they mean to say “contrary.” additionally i have no specific design on taking the opposing or unpopular stance; i serve my context-dynamic not specific aims or motives. my context-dynamic simply means who i am as i am connected to all things.