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in #blog6 years ago

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They have even built their walls around buildings, despite the things they are protecting with walls what are the same thing; also walls.

2 January 2018
Era of the asshole presidents

A wintry day in San Miguel is like a blasé wet day in March in lands where I grew up. The sky is sour with clouds and the chill that normally would ebb, remains. Like a guest that you know you gotta see, but can easily overstay their welcome. The whole day is unplanned and unfiltered. Sarah and Garth are gone for the next few, one of them is getting their stitches out. To my right, through the many walls there is a dog going through something traumatic, as it seems to do everyday about last hour, and then the fallout of that trauma plays out for about two more hours. Next door the lady with a french accent has a guest. She wanders in and out of her apartment, trading words with her friend in the other building, a singer/writer/performer with excellent pipes. A cute little dog has run in and out of our blue portal, it never barks, a only leaves a greenish turd in the gravel behind. The cats are all just really amusingly freaked out.

The time is now 10:58

Time seems to stretch with the sound of the seasons. With the passage of accomplishments. I really want to talk about important things, but I don't want to talk about certain things, which means that at least some of them must be important. But if I'm not interested in them then how will I know that they are important. I really have no interest in imaginary things that can change people's lives so drastically, perhaps that's why I am a fool, but I really have no interest in counting my pennies, and I wonder if I can be around people or a person that can count forever because I'm too interested in how to count forever and beyond where and what I eat then I want to count only enough. For I am prone to waste, and I understand I will be in danger of wasting away if things end up poorly, but I've always been poor except when I walked for thousands of miles, even though I had no money to call my own, except for when I did and what can I build with that.
Well I certainly don't want to build more walls than necessary, and if it could be that all walls disappear, that might provoke beneficial change but only in the long run, because walls protect from reasonable things to be protected by, like cold air, rain is another thing the walls above you protect you from, normally called ceilings or techos and even though they are sealed they are also fallen. the walls are a closing in and they have been building them for centuries, and I might be screen out eventually but that's because I value freedom as much as I can and as soon as I figure that out I must try to be ingratiatingly steady. I am afraid that the game of chance in randomly assigning resources is the most honest most distrustful and we will still need to move forward and onward, like quadruple accounting but better

The time is now 11:11

The Story So Far

When time is forseeably limited, everything seems to become much more precious. And while I do enjoy most of the times when I forget this, it also makes me guilty when it seems as though time is squandered. How I value my life, I can not ask a price. I will tell you how much I need to survive, but if that's provided, and that's all that's provided, I will move on; and I may deserve nothing more, maybe even less, but who are you to decide that?

I've lived in semi-rural Pennsylvania, USA for the first 27 years of my life.
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Towns with tech, towns with different kinds of people, but mostly an amazing amount of unimaginative people. (Those that weren't outright racist.)

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Then, I marched.

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And I helped out where I could.

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For several years, I didn't really have a place that I called home, except for my pack.

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When my mother died, I went back and tried to live at home for a year.

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Now I'm out and about again, furthest from my origin then I've ever been. Soon I'll be even further.

We are all further then we've ever been, as we fall in a spiral through the universe. IMG_20180101_000330_018.jpg
This is what happens when a turtle writes.
Happy New Year

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