From a Notebook Lost – The Same and The Other 78

by mudrhetoric

Of note was a tale I was told, of which, I recall only a quote, that I am unsure to a point of certainty was in the body of the text, but i shall quote nonetheless, with the above as a preface to the statement. Thusly, “Science is based upon the theological necessity of First Cause.” or vice versa, it is a possibility that the two principal terms may be switched, in fact I encourage it. It is as this path I trod. It was befallen to me. That a choice must be made in regards to the path and the way. My vision did not fail not. Not my senses. And here I am now, and it is in this moment that I create history. A history here and now. A constant evolving involving, the ebb and the flow. But what does this speak forth. Thus the Preacher said as Nietzsche proclaimed that time is infinity. Taken as a generality, not as the human that passes or this animal or this that/this that. But this moment, upon this path, has happened before, as the festival, it is the uniqueness of the interpretation. Imatory=I act. I think. I know this. I know that. To certain extents I state this as declamatory. It may come as a shock that I know of this present moment at its conception. I was a soothsayer upon my birth and I glanced. To you, I know such and such. I talk to myself mainly because as I speak in quickness you cannot fully follow as I’ve already talked to you in this moment which is now. What you shall say. I’ve already answered. So why tarry upon what has already been? There is no reason outside of absurdness. The dilly and the dally like peesees. But as to before we’ve already wasted more the enough and now we must move towards but always as. We cannot escape as. We always act and think in the character of qua. But I’ve lost time, as well as sense, and my direction upon the path and way. Then I remember to move as movement and all is well, and I am indeed content in my knowledge of (pure or peace?). Weeping as Jeremiah in my knowledge, as a soothsayer, as the Preacher. What exactly is history? It is that which is noted, read, spoken, heard, etc. It requires a sense to be noted. That which has recollection. My memory searches for words long lost. To describe such a notion. My mind stretches out to reach for that which was before and the after. But the words always slip my tongue, and therein is where the truth lies not as to what is said with intention, but instead to that which is said by accident. Things said and unsaid. Said underneath the breath, in a mumble, in a whisper. All is the text which is of import to garner/gather the meaning which is in-parted to. Let not your vision fail not. Within this space I conceive. Birthed is the time in which…. Even that should be analyzed as such. When the voice trails off hearken your ear towards the death (lying) of sound. One cannot get lost if one remembers the facts at hand. Embattled, I moved. I am a swirling, a whirlwind. So listen carefully. I find that to be ailment of societal functionality, the lack of listening carefully , among other things. Humans tend to see their senses in a fashion of utility and as nothing more. Though without senses a certain death is assured. As heard once. See we’ve already begun, well just began, is an end ever in sight, a conclusion to an introduction, but they have fused. Where is the end or beginning of a circle? And so I move.

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