I think the problem lies, my chickadees, in naming all the outer rings of this planetary system, and not paying any attention to the actual, primal locus. We're living life on the vibrations of strings too taut, time too short. Frantic, frantic, fuck. The obstinacy of reality. Shouldering itself in any stage our playthings inhabit. There are all these accumulating implications of every action and reaction, making for a dizzy, dizzy girl. We are delicately balancing on levels which cease to exist from one moment to the next. This is the test, what do you do with your second wind, runner-man? Do you dance the good dance, test the right test, go, go, go?

I like flippant types of reality when they get mean. Then we see what humanly possible implies. For we are stuck in the obscene types of human-ness, humanity, not very humane? are we, oh dear.

(it gets interesting right about now!)