YES, that’s IT! When I do, WHat could be strange to $UM is that I have different areas of my brain that I access like file folders. I can open that file folder and lay out the $tory from the facts. I peace together the honest truth as i know it, looking for handwritten notes that prove i am worth LIFE and One Voice. i find these notes everywhere, then the signs of YES to LIFE is Confirmed.
I pull story after story from the files in my mind, then make art out of legacy LIFE that has since become dollar-store antiques. Watching my roommates make their own form of art, I wonder what will be on all these walls when I leave after having been evicted for my own art <and being too loud?> I’m sure it’s going to BE…
Different, I try to change personal art up a bit everyday. Adjusting at least one thing and making it slightly more “me” than it was yesterday because it’s <mine> for now. I sit in meditation about these concepts almost all day, while watching hopeful people sleep or awaken as our eye(s) meet(s). No more eye contact for $um!
How many eyes, one, two or Three?
(but, do you have four EYES? I did, and Listen FOUR EYES, I also understand You watch my ART unfold everyday and it’s like watching a painting unveiled in front of Your eyes <Jack>. we both know this last sentence ~> for You, you Big sleeping Bear in PotSLandia. If those last two sentences didn’t make sense, learn to SLOW read OR move on ~> to HERE. Wait, You were Here? NOT anymore! bYe!)
Anyway, so there should always be artwork that you leave for one person in your journal. You all know who You are because i have left many a message for You to find me. It’s like breadcrumbs from BirdAnity with love or whatever this was AT the Time:life.
I also receive emails <firstname.lastname@example.org> from people who want to have personal conversations with me about their travels and adventures. I like hearing these stories, I just don’t get back to people in as timely a manner as I’m guessing they would like. I’m only guessing this because I often use snail mail to:from Post Offices (that again, also lost their lease).
Anxiety is giving any story ownership in your HOME other than the One : You want to believe. Even if you have a UTI like i do right now, self-induZed insomnia, and it’s 1:12AM and you can’t STOP WRITING, even when You do the “wring” thing and spell “write” wrong. i mean seriously, let it go and stop looking back or you will turn to sale or salt there, woman.
If i click PUBLIC, does that make this ART? or just scribing? or just…goodnight, YouTubers and sleep well to irresponsible ME during this child-like time of COLOR…