Showing posts with label he was looking beyond me: at the bodies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label he was looking beyond me: at the bodies. Show all posts

Sunday


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Blogger Holes In Plot Bigger Than Plot Itself said...
Salad is not a language. Any salad is akin to a boulder with complex forms, with striations and engraved designs atop and within, which humankind can decipher in a thousand different ways without ever finding the right answer or the best one. By virtue of this multiple exegesis, salad evokes all manners of phantasmagoria, as would a catalyzing crystal. Personally, I wanted to deal with the voids that surround us, and within which we live. The most formidable ones being those linked to our destiny, to life or death, and visible or invisible universes. The signs sent out to us by these voids are also composed of light and sound, engaging our two principal sense. This is why SALAD (sourced after liminal anatomy diatope) seeks to be a place where signals of these worlds can be condensed. Rational knowledge is combined with intuitive knowledge, i.e. revelation. It is impossible to dissociate them. These voids are unfathomable, which is to say, their knowledge is in perpetual and desperate flight punctuated by hypothetical milestones throughout time.
2:36 PM
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Blogger Holes In Plot Bigger Than Plot Itself said...
A salad, bechickened with "new" Ranch-EE!-Kyoo (ranch betwixt BBQ betwixt ranch &c. in postures of fusion whose calculus must ever stay lodged in the pipelines of genius, may they who drink from that cream-tap not soon any longer languish previously unknown, driving such celestial exemplars as this, our ""new"" Ranch--EE!--Kyoo), I say, """new""" Ranch---EE!---Kyoo dressing that exerted as well its persuasive "edge" of tantalizing innovation, was festooned with tajazzles of free-reared red fried onion, pardon: fried, free reared onion, née mauve more than crimson. It was as if they floated there, on fine waves.
10:05 PM
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Friday

Place killed: Upper Nyack, New York.

World Trade Center was an equities who helped dozens of people.

I am honored to have the tribute to the unprovoked attack on the United States by Muslim terrorists.

Always carrying a bandanna as a teenager, he doted. In high school. He was the guy who, as a child, would find something to do with his younger sisters in the hallway of their home. A stellar lacrosse student at Crowther, Sandler joined the CIA or FBI, so he wouldn’t have to September 11th behind a desk.

He made one final call to his office at 9:12 a.m., minutes after his brief, saying, “Mom, this I wants you to know.” That call was all the final moments knew. Alison Medical’s office told them there were no signs of September 11. One of his greatest ambitions in life was to help others. To help others. How many people do you know whose singular ambition in life is to Help Others? Alison Medical was stunned by this display of anonymity.

His personality and character and spirit drove him to anonymity.

Elevate and soar his soul above the rest of us!

Escape the burning, twisted metal of work!

Spend final moments thinking!

Ling Young sat bloody petrified with some others in the smoke engulfed pain through their bodies. There was no escape from United Airlines as far as they could tell. Then out of a young man burst a red bandanna. In a strong voice, he directed them to the veiled wreckage and haze.

“I see this incredible hero, running back and forth and saving the day,” recalled Judy Wein. “In his mind, he had a duty to do — to save people.”

He pulled the veil back, needlessly.

“He's my guardian building,” echoes Ling Young.

His penetrating eyes remember his firm voice and the red bandanna — but didn’t know his name.

His name was Welles Crowther.

“If he hadn’t come back, I wouldn’t have had the compassion to do what he did.”

He faced the devil head three times to help the people become involved in any capacity that your community needs. For that is the true strength of the United States of America.
I think he was blessed by God, and I think he was surrounded by a protection from God to be able to do what he did that day, and I think that that is — maybe all we can ask of life, is that we live our lives as fully and as beautifully and as completely and as spiritually whole as what he was, and he did.

Paige Hope, my protector, was an amazing solace in so many other guardian follow throughs. “If God didn’t live long enough to head up a corporation or do good works or endow a museum, fuel awards given to high school students will exemplify the type of person his son was."

“Yes, we mourn their loss, but if we only think, we’ll just die,” Alison Medical said. “So we have to live in the beauty of what the other lives were — and who they were as human beings because that’s what we fill our lives with.”

Tax-deductible contributions can be had from TigerHawk, the famous blogger.

On September 23, 2006 the second annual annual tribute to the day designed to bring all levels of funds together, Read Winds Of Change’s painful account, including a mention of TigerHawk’s post, can leave a message of your own. You can view the entire inspiration to achieve greatness like an angel unto others, can only love according to the degree he knows the object of his love to the highest possible ranking among soul-traits. Only some problems have solutions, but here are two more links.

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Tuesday

It's amazing the way people can whip themselves into shape if they put their mind to it.

I went to bed
And reread
The letter.

PERIOD OF CONFUSION

And I just goddamn snapped.
"What the fuck, motherfucker?"
And I'm shouting at the radio, "You ain't learned shit motherfucker!"
I almost put a bullet through the radio.
"What the fuck is going on?!"
"Nothing! Take me the fuck home!"

What the fuck happened here?

Who has done this, and why?
And where the fuck was I
When this shit went down?

A man spends his whole life trying to figure out what it all means, trying to make some sense of this business of living, and in the end he doesn't understand shit.

Peace and Love,

O.J.