| nusstabox |

I’m amazed at the ability of people to write such coherent stories and posts on their blogs. Lots of sites that I visit seem to have lovely themes and such a wide array of interesting articles. All written so as to make understanding come to the fore and keep attention of the reader. They go on and on… They never put little full stops in a row like this … their ability to create meaning with words astounds me and I can read and read and read.

There is a part of me that wishes to be able to write such stories. To just say… once upon a time… there was an old man who lived in a shoe. I wish, I wish, and all the time nothing seems to get written on the page. There is no coordinated pictures carefully placed in the block of text to bring meaning to the text, and there is no assortment of links for people to follow their surfing habits and see what I am into. Where has my sharing nature gone? I ask this of myself quite a bit. It seems as if there is a great abundance of wonderful pieces of text just floating in and out of the great copy and sharing methodology called internet. I sometime wonder why we can call internet, internet, without the the?

Sentences like that last make me happy. I am smiling now and pleased that it seems that the language that I am writing makes no sense because we can say words many many many times together. Like blithly bumbling hop-scotch bilby rompy, I am seeing the fingle partridge hapsatchel and scumbumble. There is a picture to be placed to the right, justified text and more meaning and meaning to be emptied onto the electrons of the share machine. It is a lovely day and the thought of text wrapping functions along the placement of song spaces really has brought something out of me. To which, I share with you.

Most of the context that I have come across has been wrapped into introduction, content and conclusion lines of expression. Does this make me think that everything needs a conclusion when all the things we write have been made to fit the three fold model of communication? How do we think when we don’t place our communication into the boundaries of these models? My mind does and it doesn’t.

There are some places that make me wish to express the words of the day. It needs a little encouragement to reach sometimes and this time it was enough. Concluding the paragraph is the goal, filling the content with the stimulation of intelligent logic thought, the aspiration, and reaching the heights of conclusion; the mythic flight of the soul. Where would we be if there were more concepts to our lives? Do I feel that there are concepts to my life? Question after question fills the text space with just captions and bold print to explain the intermediate forethoughts. We, as we as we can be, face this, that and the other. Not withstanding all the by and by, I have come to be held and appreciated by my own deviousness and projections. Flailing and guided along some little path to realise that I know bugger all about nearly everything. Maybe I know about myself the most of all, as for anything else, it is just the suchness that is. Temptation to re read the previous sentences to gather the thought line is strong while in a state of unfamiliarity. The communication lines of seeing where I have been to map out the places I wish to go, come from within me and I cannot tell if it has been programmed into me of it is from within itself. This is the splinter in the mind that cannot be seen, or maybe it isn’t. Maybe i am as nieve as a babe in the chillicots woods, where the brazen pan wiggles and fliggles his wanderlust for all to see. Is that where you are?

The text is long and deep in this one my son! Ohh how it rolls and floats off the fingers as we, qwerty and uiop pause, … ,. How do I pause in text? How is to be? Fear heartedness stops my fingers from placing themselves on the keys and the wish to be just as good as the others cripples that spark. The mirrors of virgo-ness bring the lessons quick and fast on the dirt highway. Rolling along the dust bowls and little gravel ruts that have suddenly produced a new page… go then, to the new paragraph of content. It is waiting for you just a click away. I don’t find the cleverly linked and highlighted text to the associated writings of others here. It is just text all the way to the bottom. How is it to be famous hey? My stomach churns at the thought. Ohhh, I just corrected the miss-spelling for the first time. All the others have been left as they were at the time of writing. And it may not be writing that we are doing now… another lot of three full stops and someone is home. It’s just about time to conclude this as we e’Il.

Ohh, yawn, it really has been fun to share.