vices electronic elected

. . . are you pleasuring yourself or merely happy to read me?

there is something faintly obscene about electronic devices vibrating pockets pocketbooks recording nakedness communicated across the globe glibly the AUTHORITIES DOTH PROTEST TOO MUCH ACCOUNTABILITY their behaviors and choices as well but me thinks more of toys sexual aids pocket pussy dildos double dongs vibrators and such surrogates for real relationships simply maturbatory life at 1.5 volts or so thereabouts socialized friend liked?

http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/random_quotes.html
inspired impelled spun farther out by randomly selected from this site page - this date - this time
(uppercase bold from my expanded quotes + copyrighted used without permission above site)

Happiness is not a goal, it is a byproduct.
- Eleanor Roosevelt

What one man does, another fails to do; what's fit for me may not be fit for you.
- Anonymous

In the age of television, image becomes more important than substance.
- S. J. Hayakawa

These families, you know, are our upper crust, not upper ten thousand.
- James Fenimore Cooper

In real love you want the other person's good.
- Margaret Anderson

A male gynecologist is like an auto mechanic who has never owned a car.
- Carrie Snow

There is more stupidity around than hydrogen and it has longer shelf life.
- Frank Zappa

No man will ever bring out of the Presidency the reputation which carries him into it.
- Thomas Jefferson

When I did well, I heard it never; When I did ill, I heard it ever.
- Old English Rhyme

"There is some consolation in the fact that, even though your dreams don't come true, neither do your nightmares."
- Richard Armour

"A true friend is the best possession."
- Anonymous

"It is when things go hardest, when life becomes most trying, that there is greatest need for having a fixed goal. When few comforts come from without, it is all the more necessary to have a fount to draw on from within."
- B. C. Forbes

"Probably no man ever had a friend he did not dislike a little; we are all so constituted by nature that no one can possibly entirely approve of us."
- Edgar Watson Howe

"Aim at the sun, and you may not reach it; but your arrow will fly far higher than if aimed at an object on a level with yourself."
- J. Hawes

"Not a sentence or a word is independent of the circumstances under which it is uttered."
- Alfred North Whitehead

"The proverb warns that, "You should not bite the hand that feeds you." But maybe you should, if it prevents you from feeding yourself."
- Thomas Szasz

- Thomas C. Haliburton aka – Thomas Chandler Haliburton
"Every woman is wrong until she cries, and then she is right, instantly"
"Hope is a pleasant acquaintance, but an unsafe friend."
"To carry care to bed is to sleep with a pack on your back."

"I am because my little dog knows me."
- Gertrude Stein

130521 MDT 13:49 vices electronic elected
© 2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved

reply 2 Saint Julian

"It behoved that there should be sin — but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." ~ Julian of Norwich (her famous visions occurred on 13 May 1373)

http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Julian_of_Norwich

In reply: Are not all loves, by quality — not Quantity, great creating more love possible?

. . . did I fail to mention that He (in previous posts) is to me equally She And/or something else altogether beyond gender like angels only better!

Jus’ noodl’n around, scribbling upon walls, ad lib, making it up as it goes, flowing like word jazz

. . . maybe all time in creation the whole magilla planting clues like seeds words that might grown into trees of life recycling the pollution of pretense delusion that anything is merely what we say it is vanity.

The above, quote in full, so far as I know, or can discern . . . coupled with several women of recent acquaintanceship become friends . . . has evacuated my distress principally . . . meaning I no longer feel compelled to shout about injustice but to covertly tunnel beneath it growing a new generation of equality . . . means and measures to be made up as we go forward but definitively different.

Devilish is my dyslexic heavenward sense what I read backward and forward \ between the lines. Aware that had I ten trillions of lives to live I’d exhaust each reading the brands of you and those who talk about walking the talk.

We, all life, riding the crest of a wave changing everything. Well, think about it, true of all recorded time. Having the means measures motives to either give health or destroy this pretty nest we inhabit. In a way, or sense, true of me, I love both those who profit and all prophets of any kind who seem upon close meditated contemplation seem inspirited by the same source. Yet I wonder as I wander towards my tomb about those who profit, do they really care about nothing else? And conclude we both plus the all of us will account eventually to the interlocutor.

Who? Hurls these darts of thoughts dreams and similes

laughter

always a clown for good god besotted . . . open quotes “ close quotes “ with an &/!\? in between

130521 MDT 09:08 Saint Julian in reply 2

© 2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved

misappropriate

i have always been between — Have and Have Not — Doubt that i would/could/should know Truth. And now fear more We collectively — the All of Us as FAMILY — misappropriate “god” as an idol making what is beyond definition: mean cruel small false.

Departure, death and then? or a new life! I measure the treasure of my identity. In other words: were this shelter on fire what would I grab exiting the door. Annie, of course, for she is my cat companion responding/corresponding in mutual language / asleep or awake / things going bump in the night or sighs/laughter in light. Save for her what else do I carry forward? That which I have squirreled away forging a life for myself and she alone the two of us? Moving towards Pamela Joyce

Or M.

We've said our goodbyes/hellos across whatever separates us. As I will always swim in the emerald green infinity of her eyes/love/kindness/generosity

Like Wile E. Coyote http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEFmFMeXV3E flung/hurled from the precipice I bounce back attempting flight yet again . . . up from the abyss marginally higher the next mesa. Less dusty but more sandy/salty.

130521 MDT 09:13 misappropriate

© 2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved

sing your continuum

Experientially I recognize myself within a continuum of surprise. About which I could parse and triage it many ways, as is my proclivity. Simply stated before the time, long or short, a few weeks ago was demarcated with material poverty — rich in and of myself but alone. (afterthought) Unaware of my primal terror: never having a woman like me, in and through whom to grow.

130521 01:01

There was a nearness overwhelming, impelling me awake. No vision, omen or portent, merely a presence, overwhelming. Awoke confident, what was expected, finding nothing else, save sense abiding I’d held the long previous period of time: We are woven into a fabric—a community of empathy—for others not obvious. Care givers not takers.

Lingering is a sense of loathing, being a man, for men are more often cruel to life than women. Of whom I have an untoward reverence. Knowing kindness and empathy more common amongst them expressed/incarnate. Add. I had fallen asleep aware that there might or will be an end to all that preceded this moment.

Joy/Confidence/Serendipity redefined/lost!?

Wondering what am I to do with this oddly overwhelming awakening? If nothing else—or less—it too important to acknowledge it, the who, the presence, so close in time.

Sensing a scenario wherein I as a little girl gone to school, cut down in half, life asunder, mutilated or taken by machine gun fire then resurrect/reincarnated/reborn. More awesome than that. A drive-by by God? Something—or part of—or about me irrevocably changed all behind me no longer accessible just jimdandy.

And I am concerned for Pamela Joyce. Since last we spoke I touched upon my reverent gratitude we’d found one another similar yet clothed differently . . . she in jammies and I scarcely covered . . . laughing at my desire for her and she too aware being a woman alone. This girl boy difference of little concern, for even that will pass, what remains will be those words spoken in the dark last converse.

I wish this were fiction then I could make up a different truth, ending or beginning something else. But this is my truth, scribbled not dictated. A fine, celebratory madness this, who would ask—or could long for—anything more? Wealthy before but now rich beyond that. Near an hour has passed between awakening and this moment; perhaps I should simply return to rest and dream some more?!

The relationship I am thinking of is: Always say yes or no to, no ambivalence nor equivocation allowed in congress. Consequent nothing obvious. Just a dance between one party and another: personal. Nothing to hold on to, just a sense of being touched or bumped in the night, dark, no more or less than any other time; before or afterward. Imperfection a constant until we meet the interlocutor face-to-face.

A scrivener I am and will become a writer, perhaps, better knowing the works of others. None so admired on a Good / Better / Best Scale. But by the spirit flowing through them. Then discovering: "Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed." - Alexander Pope (poet)

06:04

. . . another way of addressing this same sensibility—empathy—sensed through my dominate: intuition/instinct.

I feel the suffering within those I meet and respond. And to those who, as mine, their suffering become peace, love, kindness, generosity—I bond/wed/welded. Passing forward what is not altered by greed—eternal—infinite.

Inverted bell i am clangor with quotes clapper

. . . I seek, finding, nor scribe, any new Gospel. No tablets of stone graven with wisdom. But write in sole the words only of my scars upon the root of me. This, that you read, is merely annotation of an unfolding—ongoing. My reverence is for your silence and the seed within growing only if you attend it. Magnificent as you are I see the luster within greater. Pamela Joyce only? No. In one and all.

. . . and this is only that i write

Otherwise I would be silent/inconsequential/superfluous leaving you as found as in all of it.

“Life has ... taught me not to expect success to be the inevitable result of my endeavors. She taught me to seek sustenance from the endeavor itself, but to leave the result to God.” - Alan Paton

Life is a stern mother, mistress, muse. First for me perceived and experienced, initially, as an adversary. Only now as a teacher from my first breath to that breathing me now. Forgiven and loved.

This day, as any other, long before my vision of it, and afterward—has a frisson of urgency impelling me forward. I am soon to Audition for a lover and woman who, unlike my mother, will allow me access to all of her; yielding what was intransigent immutable impermissible. Previously negotiated, conversed about, detailed, accepted.

For the moment, conscious, there are many spills between cup and lip. Should I die for whatever reason between then and now I am fulfilled nonetheless. My sense a new epoch is arising ineluctable as the dawn. And with the light a new born peace between women and men; slavery impossible.

Consummated here is her affirmation of what I write specific. In reply, I write differently now. Free at last of my terror: never being loved or affirmed. About all of it—from beginning to unending—whatever will be will be. Yet there is a sense of gratitude/ineffable/inarticulate. Envisioning being sewn together two clothes made a new garment grown from the ground of our meeting first til last. Playing every note within the symphonic score invisible or visible only to us.

130520 MDT 15:36 continuum

© 2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved