Time to compare the words written here with those printed inside the notebooks. Are we so served by melding these makings together? This here's bounds are clear--where movies are written to and about. There's not yet any good reason to stray--let's accept the weight of all the history we've built. I do this and the things elsewhere all for myself and my dreams.
The content shifts accordingly with the direction of the writing. So the style changes but processes and form remain consistent.
Fags have a shared history too; each deserves to speak with an awful or suspiciously gracious tone to every entity encountered. This is the only life I know; I follow the balanced trajectory forged by my ancestry in the most vigor I can bear.
We're slowly approaching specific attitudes that address certain stylistic divergences on the blogs I post upon. I feel it's necessary to acknowledge the other, which also still is coming down the pipe. Now this piece--as it develops toward its totality suddenly this evening--bears a sinister and sickly message. I meant in no way to force epistemological entities into place. The totems written in all these places will be splintered and noted individually to ensure a regular flow continues--even in times of great fraught and peril.
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