Parsigal Mind Meanders

His company she found scintillating. The bits of brilliance she saw have been addressed in reference to his effulgent nature. One that will gladly take the piss out of someone with a wit. He does woo a gal. Effing howl.

Wooed naturally.ìA broad is a abroad to come? At least to feel at his scene and situation. And return the favor. Thus, might they be put out of their lovesome misery; that is known as ‘you can look but you cannot touch.’

This seems prudent but is actually diligence. Parsigal is no prude. She circled and sniff long and deep. No rushing to be a direct object of the action of his verb.

Then she wonders.

Wandering abroad, as a broad. She would keep seeking her home. Perhaps it was in that incredibly Old World with its bewitching tales and colloquialisms. That would sure explain why she had never seen/scene it. If not, process of elimination gains one more thing to knock off its list.

The integral was aside.

To be. Aside him.

It re-sounds like fun. Honeybones and giggles.

If it sounded fun to him.

She sometimes knew that she was under the impression this was not her best-face.

Well. That is, she thinks she knows her own face. But none can look at their own face. She could stick it out. Without taking much too. Perhaps talking to much.

The ever-replenishing Fountain.

Effortless and endless demonstration of flow mechanics common to liquids. She could fill/disarm the emptiest vessels with a grin. But always they filled with her. Or did she insist it be that way? She could no longer remember. She sometimes called herself Alice Ladder in those days. Dogs knows why, so you would have to ask them. But if they are sleeping just let them lie. Please and thank you.

She was the Beauty Triumphant in gist. But not the iconographic one. Not the dewey rose expected. Prettification processes domesticated men and women in much the same way conversation conceals reality.

Pretty confounded beauty.

Arch

Arched

Eyebrows

She was long-winded as well. Oftentimes? Anyways.

She could use mustered beauty to show others themselves as she saw them. She could finger someone’s (lack) beauty immediately if not sooner.


Quiet.

Quite a discerning perception.

But hark. Listen for the re-sound of Echoes.


Then she read him.

Then she wrote him.

The s/he wrote, each two, to each other, too.

And vice versa.

They came together.

They want to come together.

Wanton to.

Be held and beheld.

Aside.

How?

Probably in an aeroplane over the sea. At least one of us, right?

She thought she was funny. Fool and jester over knight right exactly now. Spark and drought field situation. She can work. To afford herself. She works. Well and glad. She does feel like a ghost in the PC. Outlook: tedium.

But remember, she could carry wood. She could run with wood for intervals. But, it was not easy. To rush and balance. Rush and balance. But efficacy and efficiency right? This is America after all. And she grew up in the Dirty South.

But she learned through sheer happenstance and fortunate misfortune that drugs while fun are best not best left for partying. But who doesn’t love two fingers of whisky? On occasion being the unspoken axiom. Moderation was movement between small changes. A beer after work. A smoke every couple of days. Communion wine (sold by the case don’t you know-just like discs, tape, and cassettes). Some people get drunk on the communion wine. Aw howl, I think I did that a couple of times. But it was a party, ya know?!

I do not w/ritely k/no/w. But would like shared experiences and shifting the attunement of my attention. Goals of glad. Goals of Tao. Way in method. Mystical magic.

‘Drugs’ are not the method for. Most.

But adepts. Diabolicals, Idiotes.

Most others are Posers. Seen therefore they are.

Of coarse “drug” needs disambiguation. It was too many connotations and denotes too much.

Catharsis is what is sought and received. In varying degrees.

It occurs in the mind first, seemingly, before issuing out and over the body like concentric rings displacing water. But the mind. The body. This is the same. The mind and body. Vessel and channel/ed. They travel together. Bond. Unbound.

The Empty Plenum and the Settes and Echoes that fill it with vibration, sound, and song.

Waves falling. Felled. Endlessly. On loop. On pointe.

She can work it. Methodically.

To the hithers.

She had this one previous engagement but ended up being released. Let go. That is more apt. That one took no care of her spirit or herselfhood. But she was unspirited at the beginning when he swooped in and smited her with an arrow from the Archer. St\r\uck. Working harder on his account ultimately. He did not have the silicon compulsion at first either. Then came the television escape. And another secret one. He feels in love with the feeling of himself feeling good; and he fell for it. For dealer markup. For a chance, I presume, to feel that spiritual quintessence that many users seem to refer to when they say ‘high.’ As a bit of a cad, I feel qualified to speak of this matter of usage. My hometown being a veritable black hole from which very few escaped, and within which everyone drank and smoked. In backrooms and backyards and backs of trucks.

She felt relieved to escape all the things above, but still felt constrained and unsure in which way her life would take her nor in which ways she might take her life into the future of now. She took time for self. Because even now it feels as though this place is tethered to ghosts of a life skipped completely and ‘put in a pocket’. Everything she did felt as though done before. She felt deadlock with the familiar scene.

So many times this strange sensation akin to deja vu seemed to wash over her, and yet to her seemed no more numinous than the little toenail on her good foot. The good one. At times, it felt like a show. That must go on.

Why? For whom’s benefit? Says who? Philosophically she disagreed with inexorable, but if this was what it is and it refused to relent, she could lay down. Lay it down.

Her family often seemed like previous versions of themselves. Who they used to be, to her, at least. She was the lodestone about which to concern and worry were poured. Bless her little heart. For her (and her little ol’e precious heart’s sake), out of sight generally kept others out of her mind. Energy walloped her unyieldingly; she felt. Panicky at it. Heavy with it.

But he was well-honed. He was keening her up too.

The Silicon channel finally found something worth airing.

She felt frenetic and unstill/ed. Rash/ly enpursuit for some intangible goal. As life hectates things can/may vary/very well seem absolutely bizarre. Pan had come to her. Heard her ripe energy waves vibrate his eardrums with the jaggedy ends of their streamers. Shaking her scene.

He would instill. In stillness and stillness still.


S/he remembered how badly botched the effed results came in last. The time before now.

The times before.

Woo. She thought.

I’m smitten. She thought.

These are incongruent.

She thought.

Rapt. Wrapped in Rapture’s gossamer.

~

She wanted love. With great wantonly lovesomeness. A dreamy love. A diligent and efficacious love. An honest to god head over heels love. But she also felt a strange sense of embarrassment at this desire. Like a dormant muscle, asleep or atrophied. The heater smell created the first time you turn it on and run iìīLove. What metaphysical integrity remains with this exploited word?

He made her heart swell. Her stomach warmed. She ran wild and fast from him.

Found him terriying. A real beast she wanted to sniff out. Friend or foe? Fight or flight? Dance? Two-Step the Danse Macabre.

But he k/new how to pitch woo. Without striking a blow.

Some shot arrows. At the gal they took to be there beloved. The gal defeated. Conquered valiantly. Like an animal that was hunted down like prey. And she just really loved animals, you guys. Cupid and Arjana, huh?

To boot, such a method of felling a love lead to rapture. vb and n.

A paltry one. That seizes. Overwhelms.

If I am smitten have I been smited? That is some creepy old testament god shit. Not reminiscent of the erotic to this Parsigal.

But I was the one that said I was smitten.

And he woos. Thank god he had not come a’courtin’.

Courters. The worst. They’d sue her into affection for the purposes and ends of being married.

Woo from him solicited and entreated, but with no particular importunity.

She finds this exhilarating and enfuriating. What did he want to have come to her?

What was his angle of inclination? The inclination of the needle?

Was he trying to bring about something? Wooed to what end?

A bit fat swoony swoon.

A faint.

Afaint.

A faint pair of silhouettes tip-toeing from dream to the next.

Jumping across two shores of consciousness like they were puddles and they were playing. Suspended by the same node of pivot.


She was aware of the difference between providing someone a favor and giving someone a treat. It could be expressed in the difference between the following two sentences:

Glad to help.

Happy to help.

She considered the difference/s between the following ways to sign off the end of a letter you will post to someone to read.

Thank you,

Casey

Thank you.

Casey

The top is a statement. And the current stylistic standard of ettiquette. It thanks Casey. I thank myself. Thank you, Casey. Absurd? Foolish horseapples.

The bottom version says and

Reads. Thank You.

Author: writtencasey

I am fascinated by the scientific endeavor and I read about or engage with those processes as much as possible. I am a compulsive reader and writer. With a background in anthropology and as an arm-chair/backyard scientist, I hope to improve my writing skills and learn about any areas of weakness or misunderstanding in my analytic skills. I am excited to share. Thank you for spending time here. Please reach out if you are so inclined. I'd be excited to hear from you.

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