Formalizations

re: Two Speeches

> [yet] good communication is not reality.

🦚 - Love is i-liquid, love is for e-cognition, love is for m-間。

It me. Nostrils soup air in quantum tendrils. Prise mouth and finish with me. Or I am left in exhale. Good communication not reality, the steps I walk through - "beauty is not goodness". That is the end of the steps.

> I wish I had more to say.

Disgust, peacock, to culture, not how, joy giving what-for. Fucks. And where none, florge. Subcutaneous. Disgusting peacock word one final paththrough livestone, paincient and inevible, it me, generous taste the two afford.

> What do you think?

Health, not stability of heartbeats, but dynamic range of pulsework. How declaring "one cedes the rest of their time" is not redundant (upon pausing), but brings scales of attention into view, invite, silence without pretense, space to hold. What unconditional love does to you. Tends.

> What do you really think?

How an arm may draw circles parallel to the surface with the ring finger before seamlessly transition to perpendicular circles drawn with the middle finger in the same inhalation. Before bringing thumb and forefinger together in a pause as breath is held. And, seeing the arm rest at the side coinciding with the breath exhausted space thumb and forefinger as far as reach as close was pinch, erupt, or inhalation is drawn anew.

> I’d love to share deep thoughts again soon.

Unlearning goodness a matter of finding health without systems of better, raw material of betterment. Where I catch on is conditions of depth. Would you care to explore these in any capacity? Why does existence even have a root word? Watching where typewriter pauses and what is receptive could also have been record and recipe and receive. And decompose into the scale where that is porous enough to hold every truth. Translation a delicate invitation to becoming in the conditions language loves the beast.

> essayist [ed: oh, that says "human shitstain"]

Where we will never word putrifies, becomes trying to hold our own as world rolls over us - we are immovable, the space the world moves into, through - the world destroys us, mere imposed suggestion survival, senses fall in, gauze us. Unlearning instructive, letting grasp flow to where it needs to go. Words a gravity we never scale, many layers of that gravity removed. Long after fields went to seed hydrogen, long after hydrogen's found family goes supernova, long after the human climbs down, turns soles to clay, clay to jar, jar to mouth, lips, the rest of swallowing.

> Tomorrow?

We don't heal, fix; we unfold under what stands to welcome. What might find becoming in persistence where orbit is a register.

> Anything else?

Goodness and beauty are in conversation with the arm comes down in the general direction of the breath in that moment, toward the kitchen. In the space between goodness and beauty, where the arm hangs down and in front, the pressure cooker seal valve releases into its catch, and I giggle.

> Any deep thoughts?

Words find us tongues of a collective tasting with words to meet with. Gesture between climbing toward and opening into, watch an arm swoop up and out infront of you as though beauty on thermal and down again in slowfall, listening to good earth, relaxing the wrist and retracting the arm back. Where it is over the elbow, toward the shoulder, at the level the wrist falls open and sky and finger curl into palm.

> I’m afraid not.

That branch shape the hand lies in, invisible and accompanying, is found looked down in head turning with the intimacy of fingers curling over palm. This clearing hand holds for the branch - to taste in silence always welcome - translates sun to angles in the tree that rests there , and the place that found. Fingers rise and fall with persistence of the breath, clearing where the branch persists, that curl or trembling portal of connection space recognition finds it holds.

> I’m afraid so.

A beautiful digestion. Every dream we are not conscious. Cup shape our shoulders and hips take to bring our body into a point we right over and stand with, morning. Paste one sentence of the above into a dream journal. Valid. Looking the sentence, remembering nothing else, dream and self still learning how to make fire with as good communication words can make.

"in a dream, a definition page plays like a narrative"

Life, on the surface, always an invitation to depth, to quality of attention, soft and porous, not positioning, but deposition. Invited to thank dreamlight for this day. Not knowing if a single sentence honors accumulated breath as deeply. Only hydrogen wasn't atomized in a day, and to welcome this is always an open place, open seats, and plenty eats.

> Do you believe in God?

The day a twist, unfurling hands. Grasp not required to assist balance - digital weight of a pinky on the musculature it calls into process calls recognition through gesture. Balance attention and arrival commune to strike. What rings how attention shatters, sophistication. Decay collecting banks of river host, delicate, foam and each void a world, depostion, welcome as voice to breath. Birdsong the craptions of river sounds.

> Do you believe in anything?

Two speeches community cancels, terms and leaves speak day occurance. Carrying the one itself anne equation. Approaching the limits of the unbecoming, solitude growing porous, possible, impossible, carried. Community not just forces, badge numbers to transcribe, send to chats full report text the picture takes on. Ways we gather, and to have.

> Well, something beautiful.

A model organ, an ear, an interface - a way to digest to knowledge I am swallowing. Not, as a community, the gut flora needs to process what is world woken into. Phone rests, plugged in at night, breathing, digesting yesterday, transforms invitation into morning, color of river after rains, absence of a certain fruit tree, songs not translated into listening emptying, phreep pit pip pit pip pip peep seating somewhere, leaving its mark in heart, another cellular find in a body.

> Well, something tragic.

Or any number of the encounters we sit around and notice invite becoming. It's odd - these cellular antennae we play moth to, recognize bands of benign signals space around our selves trnaslate into disgust and no where, no time. Allowed, invited, inevitably impossible, ends of time so definite they hum in ambient telemetry.

> Well, nothing mystical.

Tell you what. Walk me through a strangulation where a communal stomach is asφxiated, and your stomach will already tell you what resonates by dropping out. This prayer work, a communal alignment. Care so interlaced it's networks, affordance. So ensconced, asylum is attention, assitance, agreement, articulation. Open hands curl into gestures so key beckoning becomes presence attended.

> Well, nothing magic.

Trembling between vulnerability and assertion, recognizing world a lens every heart is lathed, yes where we hold becoming as depth to light ribbons water like closing becomes part of these words. A world known to offer dreams. Dreams to offer presence, offer moment. Exhale voice not because there isn't breathing, but inhaling invites all breath, exhale a layer itself in fortunate alignment to unfold the process.

> Being with you is never like singing.

Appendix a network affinity groups see through infection and offer asylum to guts what held together unfolds and the rest of community, walls of the body becoming to be had, should wanting prove vital. Up and until the boundary of other trees, entire cells of forest canopy form and sway in boundaries so defined mutual light sensing mechanisms are found and studied. Neighborly observations. To suffer through so much squad car bubble gum machine light just to know what invites become today. An ethical dark every encounter wishes leaves a silly, desparate wobbly condition it's practically lampoon, and we've only eyed the lock screen. Untenable. More appendices.

> It feels like I’m presenting a paper to the class.

Thank you for joining in this small, forgotten g-ds roleplay. It is good beauty engaging with you, through these little concessions, across fields of digestible portions. Such feast. Look. Words did not exist before you got here. It is so nothing good's missing. So disgusting just to confess feeling through this ph音e and this cell and even if what's cellular isn't a phone (I don't know linguistics), I am utterly all-ears present. I don't know how you stomach me, but I love coming here. I look forward to local instances of our asphyxiated stomachs. I look forward to finding you in them, as inevitable as that is.

> Hey!

Keep gulping water, keep drowning in notifications, messy text strings and the Dos and Donts of whatever writing reincarnated into. The smaller the words, the less the mass to demand them legible. Relating is stridently new terrain for me. Where what is why sits in us and is nourished, wellness places a firm grasp on what I may and may not acknowledge.

> Any adventures today?

Frequencies process their resonance as ward. Up, through, and into alignment, all knowledge is counteralignment to information. How walks away find ourselves transformed. Data depth we surface on reflection - invitation to notice the difference pouring. Water tower to water being next. Every cell the bones their based on, limnic apoptosis, collective capacity to hold tender ways we have enough to be what is vital.

> Hello

Always scary, the lens is aligns the places the organism has found itself host to, or not. The oldest game of transformation all humanity has to ensoul. An attention so fickle it flickers from from doors shutting feircely to windows coming open to rising tempuratures, and the disgusting signal this sound body plays host.