Prologue
I just noticed my last publishing date. Hole-ee phuck. 'Time phlies' when you're conphused, obsessed, demented and estranged. The Universal Intelligence has been sending me alarms, LITERALLY --> from palces of extreem WTF. It is as if the Super-UN-Natural has colluded with some sort of Demon Franchise to BULLY me into a form of Writing that is NOT in my 'wheel house'. The Scholarship I am SUPPOSE-TO detail demands HEAVY Research. 2 words >> `I don't want to`. The Demand is in place because the Details are stridently Esoteric. Concepts, if they are to be 'understood' sometimes not only require descriptive TECHNICAL explanations but also Examples that themselves invite a subjectivity of maudlin and even malise. I intend toward the Droll Aspect of Expression, an aspect, supposedly, unbecoming of a Scholar or Sage---such is my Inner Nature of 7th Grade Foole.
The mornings have passed with GENUINE morbidity. Despite ENORMOUS Progress in Visualizing the Over-ALL --- I have dwelled in a discomfort of "Home Alone" Stasis, meaning, `it's lonely at the flop`. Pages of notes have filled files,,, sentence after sentence alone and seemingly adrift in an Ocean Vastness whose Eternal Currents keep me from Island or Mainland Harbor. It actually HURTS that I can't engineer bridges to connect these insights thereby making them Intelligent Out-sights. Oh well......
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