Content = Yummy.

I had wanted to follow that other post up with something...meaty. What follows is a meager approximation, I think, though I'm sure even approximations deserve some credit, eh? (I was writing it around 8:24, the timestamp of this post, and hadn't slept at all--and I still haven't.)

(Brief mental note: I can actually bold and italicize with just hotkeys in this editor--even while using Firefox!? ...o0o0o0o... Points for dem apples, Google...)

So I'll keep this brief. Or leave it as a draft and save it for later. Either way. I'm mulling over possible purposes, templates, models, et cetera, for this blog such that it will yield the most satisfaction at the least expense/anxiety/extra-chores; this is beyond obvious. Well actually the reason is; the process--the various sorting of various structural/stylistic aspects I variously began {heh} the previous sentence with--isn't necessarily so obvious unless I tell you, which I just did. The undlerlying reason however is immediately apparent--or at least too likely to be on simply equal footing with any other possible reasoning, even at the outset of the apparition {heh}--and that is what is obvious. It is important, sometimes, to realize this fatal flaw in modern (perhaps, baser, merely human reasoning)--that simply because the cause is flagrantly apparent, its mention still doesn't negate effects that perhaps weren't--and under no circumstances does this principle waver.

I must apologize at once for the seeming verbiage of the above paragraph. It would seem my pedantic nature got ahead of my good intentions and taste; that my humility was lost to the project, and I patronized the readers I so humbly respect. Goddang, man. But there was a point to it all--afterall, in fact, as it turns out--a point that itself is so easily overlooked--if not by "Society" or "The Children Of This Era" then by certain persons who are, perhaps, too dear to my heart, or in the least too dear for this consideration to be forgot so easily by myself or anyone who claims to love; or if not any of them, then perhaps simply, lastly, by me.

For I must I have some meaning in all this blithering, shouldn't I? I mean I seem to think so, like it or not (Which is of course irrelevant: It's not that I don't like this having something to say, that I don't like my having anything or something--that is to say, mainly--or putting it before you--offering, I'd of course rather--but that when I'm not forgetting the impulse in the saying, the living, the relieving,--the doing that is the action!--, I'm often finding myself at a loss for what to have maybe done.), but say still I do seem to do. But my little life, this little bit of meaning I must be eeking out by living, I insist on sometime having eeked {heh}, should have to it then some little value by the day I die (so that I may walk up to my parents with it in my arms and say "There! There it is--the life you gave me, and This is what I've made of it!") I pass on remembered some, if only once--not so much to allay some fear of death, some terror of Oblivion Inevitable, but that I know my life had meaning, imprint, in the lives of those around me, I knew, I cared about, I loved.

I do so live for Love; I've long since suffered warily at the hands of Truth, but Love! You may beat me back, break me down, tear me limb from jubilant limb, and I will always come back for more--for those brief moments unclouded, untouched by human incongruity but wholly replete with human longing and the Love we all share! The only thing we can ever share! While Truth is dirty and mean; Truth doesn't have any worth, really--what's true now may not be true later or, worse!, only ever have been true for you (How lonely!). But Love--Love is always. Love anything at all and ergo everything you ever need. It's all I ever need--to know and feel Love with all the scientific understanding and religious leaps-of-faith I can manage, with all the force of my life and all the breathes of my days. And it may hurt me more than any silly truth, but loving every moment of life--the first part of True Love--then loving every person--the second--and then loving ever act--it looks like the first but only if you forget how to count; the third--until you know what you love--the fourth and...--what your Love is like.

And see, there was a point in that, too; May seem like utter nonsense--less of the Nietzsche-Kierkegaard bastard-lovechild from before, more Rousseau? I pray to god not. Well whoever it is flavoring it, there's still a point to be had, before it's missed as more of the same, before it's lost to more of the same, before it's written off as "more of the same" and disregarded (again as to who's disregarding, I'm not sure; it could be me still, but I think I know what I wanted to say. And I think my audience can figure it out too.)

I wish I could say I'd spent a lot of time on this and therefore could guarantee it's all exactly as I meant it. I wish too I had spent enough time to at least have the ones I love be loved as best such Loves deserve. But alas, I am Human, and just! And don't forget--Lazy!

I think I will start another post for these weird thoughts in my head right now...