the outdoor room

i think it is necessary that most things are broken down before a new way if thinking is built up.

it is absolutely necessary to enter, for a period of time, a primordial soup where nothing is as it was, nothing is as it seems and nothing will ever be the same again

like a caterpillar”s body turns to liquid as it pupates and reforms its very essence into a butterfly.

it is almost as if the molecules of a belief system have to be reformed before any of this can be taken forward

i wrap myself up in the hubris of an online existence for a week

i do not see what the weather is like outside my window

i do not want to eat. i do not want to speak about it i keep it inside

all inside.

the neurons in my brain are making new pathways as i seek the existence of a new chart, topologically speaking. a new code.

the dictionary lies open on a blank page where one is allowed to make notes. i am scribbling. but there is no definition of form, no hint of materiliasm at this point, it remains but an ocean where a passenger may sit and wallow for a while letting the waves crash over them. and then, when the time is just about right, she may start to make a break for the other shore.

climb out onto that overhanging plant wet and new. pump herself up a little.