Thought.

[woops]

HARD RESET. BEGIN AFTER BASICS. We have progressed past the logistic stage to a point where arcs inscribe their object. New post-everything ideas about the feeling in my fingertips. There is nothing more conducive to ballistic reflections than curving concrete, just round from the long, wide platform with its sparse population. Avoiding casual contact, it's annoying, the way it swings and affords a handhold. Divisions disappear and there is nothing but the avenue all the way from cab to cab.

Now, many of us are articulate and have spun proverbs, maxims, etc. but which of us can give a voice to the way - we show our working - attempts made in the margins, idle parties and angry regret? That's tough like Lapsang Souchong, soft slice of lime.

Imperative, like last year's geography homework handed in and ignored.

 

[sus]

Woops!

 

[sus]

This is an important post. We have progressed past the logistic stage to a point where arcs inscribe their object.

 

[sus]

He passes through a gonorrheac fever dream contracted in the tropics, wakes spouting poetry, like one of those women who come out of a coma with a new accent, a new language

 

[sus]

HARD RESET. BEGIN AFTER BASICS. In the realm beyond the logistical, where arcs etch their purpose into existence, we find ourselves immersed in new realms of sensory exploration. Consider the sensation that dances upon the tips of one's fingers, a symphony of post-everything musings. Amidst the curvature of concrete, where lines bend and merge, a fertile ground for contemplation unfurls. The expanse of a wide platform, sparsely populated, invites introspection while avoiding the intrusion of casual contact—a nuisance, indeed, as it beckons with its swaying form, offering an inadvertent grip.

In this landscape, divisions dissolve, leaving only the unbroken avenue stretching from one cab to the next. We, the articulate few, have woven intricate tapestries of proverbs and maxims, yet who among us can articulate the nuances of our journey—the annotations in the margins, the frivolous gatherings, the echoes of regret that reverberate in the chambers of memory? Such a task is akin to the delicate balance of Lapsang Souchong, its robustness softened by a hint of lime. Relegated to the annals of yesteryears, completed yet ignored—a testament to the complexities inherent in rendering the ineffable tangible.

 

[william kent]

He passes through a gonorrheac fever dream contracted in the tropics, wakes spouting poetry, like one of those women who come out of a coma with a new accent, a new language

He took up the challenge after you declared him and I the two sane Brits.

 

[sus]

Woops did you know I had my first cup of Lapsang Souchong yesterday? I didn't even know what Lapsang Souchong was 24 hours ago. This is eerie synchronicity, this is the world-way working itself mythological. We were destined to meet. We were destined to part. We were destined, always, to meet again.

 

[sus]

He took up the challenge after you declared him and I the two sane Brits.

Myth makes itself real!!

 

[sus]

Which of us can give voice to the way

Which of us recognizes the path

Which of us can articulate its contours

 

[sus]

Which of us can identify the shared path in the particularities of the path we ourselves struggle to walk

Which of us can speak the voice, that carries the proof, that lets the hearing, take the path as path

 

[sus]

@woops okay now that the questions have been raised we dutifully await your answers

 

[sus]

I'm the only one on this board to welcome you back woops. Me and Version. Everyone else tired themselves yelling all day and night and stormed off in a huff. Now it's just us three. One and a half sane Brits and a whackjob Americanite. What a state of the board. What a state of the world. Woops are you there woops?

 

[sus]

tea's incantations have already worked. Moloch has descended upon Dissensus.

 

[Corpsey]

let me save luka the trouble

Thinking

I've never thought before. How do you do it? When people talk about thought as an active thing, like press-ups or something i get all confused. Things occur to me, pop into my brain, but it's passive, they just appear and i observe them. can someone explain thinking to me? what does it involve...

www.dissensus.com