This writing is superbly done. What isn’t said is what makes it so profound. Really a fine piece of work.

This writing is superbly done. What isn’t said is what makes it so profound. Really a fine piece of work.[/quoI agree, it’s fine, but what isn’t said that makes it profound?

It is a perfect example of a clean slate that exemplifies a new beginning that brings out it’s brilliantly remarkable character. Or perhaps it comes within a scintilla to an example of near zero sum in literature.

Yes I believe so. He works in a regressive but salient barthian modality that is only recognized in the zero degree writing of the most prolific post structural writers.

agreed. I do though reserve judgment on his jump to structural coincidence, both literally and figuratively, per our discussion on the consubstantive ‘film’ between the old and the new, and takes in his very similarity to biggy’s fractured condition. Although such mutual simulation rests in an unconscious labyrinth.

I wasn’t tryin to be clever or nothin. I just posted the poem in my corner instead and forgot.

I’m not a genius like Pooty Tang.

Thank you guys though. I won’t forget in case you ever slip up.

You are real gentlemen.

Ze period. Doez ze period not remind one of ze very elemental nature of one’s own irretrievable irrevocability?

Ze point. It pends. It pends like ze soul of ze monkey, ze monkey zat inabits in each one of us, in turn.

The relativ of the monkey is the baby. The monkey is a baby that never grows up and grow a soul. Maybe back then. And maybe the monkey that is seen today will grow up to have a soul, sometime somewhere, and maybe we current grown up souls will be replaced by future baby monkeys as an insurance policy and humanoids will again be given another chance for sinning against natural lives & other worlds, in case humanoids of today decide to nuke themselves to smithereens, or somthin’ .

But if this is not believable , it is only so , because regular time of 8-5. is what most people can understand and experience, those with unfractured egos, through which eternity can not come through the many layered fractures, the fractures break up the soul like the prism does to light, but the white light then bemoans it’s fractural dispersion, and would like to wish it back into white.

But black confuses them as if it was a gaping hole, a transcendental nothing cave from which the eyes which meet their eyes through the red gaze of the Infra red, from below tries to fathom the ultra violet from up above. , or reversely.

Only from underneath the vast subterranian underground such very strange conjoined meet , in an instant.

That is how far removed am I from f. Dostoevsky’s " letters from underground’ as is Hades from Odysseus.