Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋

Because earlier he said/IED

‘Thinking he knew what he meant, he responded:
Every bit of knowledge collected is a little key
that can make one big key. Then, decide
if you need it to escape.

That’s an obtuse metaphor.
My brain decided to create something.
*Tossing that kernel that wouldn’t pop*
Because earlier he said, in response…

OMG, you’re fine. You can be candid. No judgment.

I’m giving great consideration to your previous email
with much admiration. I can’t selectively pare down response yet, because
my brain becomes a small pile of heating popcorn kernels
that crowd out my nest
from the slightest stimuli.
we cool.

I know from cringeworthy. I’ve done it all.

He then returned to his current thoughts, added…

My metaphors seem to coincide in parallel universes
with glass wormholes. Or,
am I confusing it with time travel?
Running that one through some simulations later.

Was this a little key he handed, clutching
the smooth, black shaft of hand-carved wood,
notched in just the right places,
or so he was lead to believe. He looked up
at the random, tiny, floating keys
and swiped at the shapely holograms.

Who was he to advise, play counselor?
Which is real, what is true reality?

And then, he devised an obtuse poem,
with no Time Machine, just peppered obstacles
to his re-entry into ordinary existence.’
And now, more coffee. Cut off??


9.25.23

It all has to end sometime. Just, how brilliant the firework?
ps
‘Diffuse the IED (touching face, ‘don’t look that up’)…lack coffee…brain deple….buffering…offline

I started to hypothesize I’m Abed playing Jeff (reasoning I’m Abed in reality), was Jeff in a former life, only I was Britta, because I was broken, became a whore who decided to desensitize and take advantage because I felt abused (when I ignorantly abused myself) though I was shoved into mental lockers and needed to feel popular, decided then not to be me or who I used to be, ran the scenarios without knowing outcomes. So, I used an empty tissue box (metaphor) as filter called empathy like Annie supposedly employs, only it broke Abed who became evil Abed and wanted Jeff to lose an arm to join him in the darkest timeline. But, then decided he wasn’t a conniving, non-miraculous son of a bitch and returned to the most accommodating, current form of himself, looked into the mirror and saw Pierce. That’s when he decided choice as fate-destiny was to become a vampire, unable to see his own likeness, as Britta, Jeff and Annie all inhabited his body. All the spirits were repulsed as he woke inside the dream and cried out as Troy, “I didn’t get Inception! I didn’t get Inception!” Only, I’d already seen Tom Behringer stare upon his ownself in a previous film, making me a castaway after the last episode on the island in Lost (as a character with TV network good looks), realized the lack of payoff, screamed in December, “six seasons and a movie!” We’re still waiting on production. Hollywood lies and we continue to delude ourselves to repeat what others rant without forming thoughts and opinions of our own, lemmings marching to our quiet death as Elon Musk’s future cyborgs, then blurted, “I’m not Juno…home slice!” Grinding awkwardly, the bespectacled, unlicensed therapist oozed, “I got skillzz.”
“Who are you? My final?” Misdirect.
Ha, popcorn.’

I don’t expect you to understand me. ‘You force the obtuse outta me.
Coward. Me.’ Me??

9.25.23

Damn, Charlie Kaufman! Some of us have to be to work in the morning.

Uniform.
Look at his shadow!

Just about anything applies. Ladies, you’re welcome.

They say it was Annie who was the Butt Crack Bandit, but Duncan came back, and she said ‘only he had access to the teacher’s lounge,’ sooo…Why did the bandit write like one of Britta’s run on sentences?  (Cut to shot of her using a computer in montage.) And all the merch and success of Shirley’s Subs was a mass conspiracy that benefitted a bankrupt school living in the shadow of the Air Conditioning and Repair annex where Troy saw black Hitler making Paninis and I’m not making this up, but…it was a mass conspiracy and cover-up, just like the hoax ‘Changnesia’ borne out of a trout farm. They’re all bandits. Everyone in Jeff Winger’s Study Group. They’re ballers, yo. I hope you like to get balled. Pansexual imp-puh!

That adds good color for the report.