hopelessly-hopeful

The last attempt at cream took three iterations and still ended up more yellow than cream. There are tools, but that isn’t the point.

Pick an impossible goal and pursue it consistently. Now add another. And another. And another. Revolving through them relentlessly, pausing only to love and be loved.

Congratulations. Consider yourself an artist.

Starve like it’s your favorite flavor. Fail as a prayer.

Save as much money as can fit in your toolbox, where it immediately transforms into tools.

Turn every wound into a poem. Paint with blood. Out of hairs yanked in anguish, weave a story.

It’s all about stories. It’s not about the storyline. It is about the transformational experience of being carried by its shape.

We communicate that which cannot be spoken.

Hcaer. Hcaer. Into the unknowable. How many times how many ways can you say the same old thing.

I’m saying I’m writing the same thing again, lying the way to someplace that might be a mistake.

All of this could be little if any more and perhaps even less than a grave mistake.

Perhaps this is creamier: #ccbaaa.

21/05/2024