"POP goes the weasel"

 I couldn't sleep.  I awoke at 1 a.m. into a headache-driven trance the result, I'm guessing, of a Repression of Universal Order, the one's I "can't get my head 'around' ".  It's the 'Same-Ol' -Same-Ol' ' >>> the Universe sends me Text it is my Duty and Obligation to 'pass along' to You my Gentle Readers thereby satisfying "Absolute Decree".  It's in my 'head' the way a good song seems to 'loop' itself, the Sounds and Words some sort of Psychological Exactum, a 'pounding' being generated in order to 'break through' to Consciousness, where the Message is finally Acknowledged.  Sitting in this 'Here' simply typing this Text, is NOT mere Transcription, something I can do 'mindlessly', but rather it's a 'Something' of Translation Polypody, a 'one such' of Primal Intellectuality where Growth 'spreads out' to cover and obscure the Ground of Pure Rationality.  Of course, it DOESN'T 'help' that I question myself with regard to my own Authenticity to Deliver such Information.  Many times, if not most often, I Fear that Simple Transcription is FAR LESS than Mirror Imaging, but instead some subjective Perversion, the one where MYY Past generates a fucking Interpretation.  Here it is where Professional Lucidity is PROBABLY dis-stink-ly Compromised, a Lucidity that is BENT by a rabid Emotionality, which, of course, produces an OPINION that may or not adhere to Universal Will.