Of waxing and waning on the mere idea of attempting, or having been being in an attemptive sort of mood at the end of our year… (and transitioning to a sleepy sort of washed out blue sunset hue sort of situation) I did… in fact… decide to accept my personal affliction, and (mind you) this disease… quite the most unending of headaches during my afternoon psychic walks through childhood trauma… An illness of such a magnitude that I could not shake it regardless of the prescription nor concentrate. No, no sort of biotic (or anti-thereof) would sort this out, the only way to ascend… to grow? to build… was to give in and allow myself the eccentricity of a desire for silent anarchy. Does one deserve the walled garden? Rather, are we all complicit; did I help build it and if so can I find a solution? … a blueprint for existence alongside, yet not next to, the status quo, more-for-less; can I avoid the bafflification of knowledge which landscapes the encapsulation of this digital experiment?

Trying to excuse yourself from the table, even when you brought your own dish, is a little awkward it seems.

In the five (or so) months that I have been attempting a patient and safe decoupling of my vessel from the Space Station U.S.S. Alphabet? … I have been able to accomplish far less than I had hoped. What the proletariat reality consists of, currently, is the daily onslaught of many disparate threads clutching together to weave an ugly tapestry in representation of the (hardly) functional life we lead today. Maybe just me?

I don’t think so. I’ll continue moving towards a personal operating system that works for my deprecated firmware; outside of the mainstream technodictate. Just right after I muster the mental fortitude, convert that to alacrity, and organize my photos without Google…

Has anyone even worried that this is too much for the children? Think of the poor children?! :)?