(no subject)

[kingtycoon]

In the dirt, mashed into the soil, crushed under & among the cigarette butts.  This is where you find the master key.  It's one of those things - you find that the mystical is commonplace.  You'd think the Master Key would be something more substantially important, something cherished & held close  for the invocation of magical circumstances.  It's not.  It's just a piece of paper that you can buy when you get lottery tickets.  Charlatans & their printers.  I don't know - this thing, waiting at the bus stop by the cancer-hospital, it made me feel things.  That mystic ideas are commonplace & fraudulent, that mysterious signs & their obscure meanings are just another of the things you encounter in your day.

The commonplace is what's contemptible.


You might be a whaler, I guess? And the skeleton of the whale would do nothing for you - "Effing Whale Skeleton! All over my clean carpets!" You might. So what does it mean that magic numbers & Master Keys are commonplace? I give it a think and find myself not able to really think about anything. Work.

Work is commonplace, contemptible, but only in the sense that it's work - not the matter of the work, just the tale that working tells about the universe & your place in it.


But really - there ended up being so much and I ended up being so... adversarial... That in the end I didn't want to even talk. Not about anything. So I'm doing the thing you do, where you resume, ex media res - I guess, I'm quitting the most recent threads & starting a fresh page of diary. Hey! I forgot to miss this.