Psychoschemata Vector Seeding

Fast launch
Better than meticulous perfection
Stop trying to do all pieces at once
Assemble & tweak, subvert & rebubble
Set all in one way together, set all those against aside
Let not it be said that nothing was tried… – My own unique strategies & tactics
Resembling nothing so much as the symbols of the heuristic schemata ladders –
We take our shots by chaos, by coil, by screw, by bloom

#@(.e.)@#
2.71828 = lim[n→∞](1 + 1/n)n

~:-:-:-:~ title goes here ~:-:-:-:~

Wordless, tapped out, feeling pointless. What motivates us to write? When does it become merely a duty? Just a ploy to gain views? How do we keep on when feeling unpoetic? Perhaps, in this case switching to prose. Reflections on life today or what have you… or something else, whatever.

Feeling semi-pointless at the moment. It’s strange how all the disciplines, all the meditation what have you, I always come back to this feeling of pointless eventually. Perhaps even worse when I am actually hitting my targets. That lasts a few days, and then it loses it’s flair. Am I addicted to the feeling of improving from disastrous tumbles? Where does this idea come from? Why does small success burn rapidly out the fires of interest leaving me to tear off jaws agape and salivating for something pointless and self-defeating?

Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore Art Thou Romeo?

What purpose is there to these idle wanerings? Do they make any real impact on the world other than me? Do they help preserve my sanity? Will they be used one day in a character assassination, or perhaps make me some money instead?  The answers of the spirits are invariably either, ‘the point is to keep on writing’, or ‘you have failed to listen to our advices on these other matters, and that is why you feel pointless’. Well spirits, I am trying. Throw me a frickin’ bone here. A comet eclipse lightning bolt to set me straight or something. Where are these goons taking me, and why? What of the pythons you sent and all those other visual effects?

Am I supposed to convert that into something? Why does it always dissolve when I sit down to attempt it?

Things are, nevertheless in motion, and I imagine that I will be making something more happen in this little life of mine fairly soon here. Maybe I need medication. Maybe I need modern life to be less alienating. whatever. We’re working on it.

On a side note I have started 2 other blogs but been blocked as to how to go about my inaugural real posts to them. Perhaps I should do something like this. The obstacle seems to be partly perfectionism, since the other two are on topics I actually know something about, unlike poetry. And they are somewhat scientific too, so there is the added pressure to systematize, cite, construct arguments, etcetera. Perhaps that is the wrong approach. Meanwhile I weigh the possible pro- and con- sequences of deanonymizing this and the other two for purposes of networking and promotion of other works… hmmm. Is Prosequences a word? Ah, no. Didn’t think so. Perhaps we should do something about that.

PS That felt nice. but will it stick?

Persona non Grata

Fleeting hope & false promise

     I wait

Eagerly for the weight of polite lies & petty hypocrisies

     Endemic in America

sociopathic norms

     Rot, Rot foundations, you have ended yourself

& bring it crashing down

     The power of false words

They have their own consequences

     The fantasy of flawlessness

The bright shining face required of us

     For always to wear

Or else to be blacklisted

     Doomed at once

To be pitied and vilified

     And when the center rips apart

I shall farm and artisan

Instead of hoping for a binding paycheck Punching buttons

     Or making ads