talk about what heaven's like: time folded over on itself eliminating all moments but the following: a nearly empty, silent train car on a morning that is not hot or cold with the sun in your eyes; pissing in a large quiet bathroom at a terrible party; staring at the mess on the floor from your bed at 6:57 before your alarm goes, sound smoothed out by the hum of a fan; walking down an unimportant side street alone on a summer night; driving on the Merritt Parkway at midday and you're very early to wherever you're going; perpetually conscious enough to appreciate your unconsciousness, clothes fitting just so but no one's looking which is so nice

talk about what dying is like: what's going on? what's going on with a line over the last number after the decimal point to indicate repeating

talk about what being dead is like: everything doubles in size and what what you did becomes so ensconced and entrenched as to be gospel, every nightmare scenario you tried to prevent is unavoidable, but of course you can't do much of anything anyway, because you're dead and the dead don't tell tales so you have to become ok with being dead and being immaterial and not being watched (which it turns out is really fine anyway) and being in heaven (which is rather nice too)

the dead throw away their old clothes and hide their old notebooks and pare everything down to their bare essentials

"We shed as we pick up, like travelers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is short. We die on the march, But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost."

not so, not so, and some times it's good to forget where you left your keys

like a dream but verifiable by other articulate beings

I had a slice of enlightenment handed to me just a night ago, and it was delicious. just one of those timeless spaces you enter where every thought presents itself with the light of day, hits the tongue and ripples off.

all of it with such ease and meaning. you are connected to everything living and vibrating in this universe, and although you've always known it with your rational and systematizing mind, you now feel it coursing through every fiber of your being. open system.

like a container, your body opens and begins to let in -- drinking the world in through large licorice pupils. like the 80% water that you are, you begin to resonate with the exact frequency of everyone and everything that encompasses you.

breath is full&deep, rhythmic, sweeps those cobwebs out of your chest.

you're probably taking in a higher dose than you normally do of the dear ones in your presence and the particles they're shedding into their chemical aura. they're probably breathing with the same depth and tempo and taking in from you too.

did you know that the literal meaning of "inspiration" is to breathe in?

food for thought

communication is flawless -- what isn't accomplished through a simple shared glance is given through a gentle hand and few small words. (!!!)

if that doesn't sound like close to perfect information retrieval, i don't know what is!

you're reminded of love.

love for the people who are not physically present but who linger in your mind exactly because you've been waiting and looking for some external inspiration to finally tell them -- tell them how you feel.

love for yourself and all these lovely people who perhaps at other times in other places can be monsters but who in this moment and underneath it all are beautiful children who just want to be held and told that they are good and have big hearts and that everything's going to be alright.

--rant to be continued and related to scifi, fear, e=mc^2, feedback loops, information processing, dance, the physical manifestation of harmony (it's structure and anatomy)--