There are compression limitations to my story and the whole thing is a wash if it ain’t all decoded at once. This algorithm ain’t built for partial assembly and all kinds of artifacts creep in.

Empty words or hollow eyes?

Permamounting a defense for your unobserved life is exhausting.

I wonder how many code phrases there are for fuck you.

Mindfulness is totally having that quick retort at hand that only ever shows up later, choking down a sudden jolt of jubilation, and choosing restraint as the best representation of yourself.

My use of the word breathing refers to doing so deeply and slowly enough that your fight or flight response gives up entirely on a quick turnaround for all that oxygen. So it’s fight, flight, or give up… really. Score another under appreciated point for giving up.

I mean, come on… without him, I’d be where?

By creating a pseudo permanent fight or flight state, one’s own ability to understand and empathize with surroundings parties becomes dormant, for we always fight or fly alone.

I wonder how quantum algebra works.

How much scientific faith would be lost if we removed all the clearly unrelated side effects? I promise my loss of appetite is not from cannabis consumption (let the figmented reader feel free to correct this assumption).

Sometimes you must choose between understanding your world and being correct with your current model.

The wilting has started

A room with dead wallflowers feels different.

You can’t always get what you need; but, if you try some times you get what you want.

If you happen across someone locked in a closet, try asking them if they might like to see the outside and observe how they react.

If you keep someone locked up in a closet for four years, letting them out looks like mania.

I always forget that there is no there there.

Don’t let confirmation bias rush your judgement.

The contagious yawn must just feel good because I am breathing through those cues too (just for shits and giggles).

How the beginning of the end ended

How the end of the beginning started

The Philadelphia Bulldogs seem to be having a day.

Side note: I remember Master Choi. He got a kick out of me catching the guy in the nose that was testing me for my first degree black belt and drawing first blood. The image on Wikipedia is probably some thirty years after that happened.

When you realize you learn the same way (you’ll notice I never raised my voice and the worst I called him was a little shit (and that may have been motheringly engrained in a Black Saab convertible on the way home from Choi Kwan Do the day I blocked a slap headed for my left thigh with my wrist))

When the trick is convincing the Kota that no clipping has occurred… you were helping him bite his nails.