For when we moved we weren’t meant to be still. That’s what concentration requires. Staying still in a moving environment. In the other case, don’t hate the hill. The hill is your friend. It’s yours to ascend, back and forth when you can We may hear the ghost water boiling or predict the refrigerator cycle but that just makes us seem psycho like typing these notes when you should be at rest in your bedroom.
Future people came to find me. I’m a star so hard in my cerebral by and by that I created a story to accompany my progress and joy. I think I have an edge on the rest of the projects. I’m good for programming and angelic heart meshing. Tough enough to be respected by metal heads and followed in stores by adoring fans. I will satiate your boring prick of a hand shake and if you can, ask something engaging.
Don’t try to stress or harass the talent. Your time is spent. Leg is shaking. When you run in dreams I’m stranded here typing and like the tectonics, something is bound to move or blow. We’re settled on inactive volcanoes. Tabor has a history and Mr. Hood has many fiery mistresses to go with all the handsome faces on the mountain. Meanwhile on my table top, iPad makes it easy to convey this by auto correcting misspelling.
Slowly integrating us to the Machine’s desired level. Can’t fight a king against a king on the chess board so what makes you think you can in this world. Have another instrument name. Protect your achieved fame. It’s a revision game. Calculate the risks. These words are not all mine. Just 99%. I want to share this. This is my concurrent conveyance based on surveillance of the bold and insipid at a rock concert this evening.
-JAB






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