And soul repairing.
Removed that annoying controlling format.
So I've chewed on my soul vigorously, frothing at the mouth with tiny bubbles of short-lived BEST POSSIBLE WORLDS, tearing them to gristle in my teeth, grinding grinding grinding til they taste like ashes
but I swallow those ashes, find a way to perk up, desperately at first, for hours that seem like weeks, then more confidently, then, like spotting ocean on a sea of sand, the prospect of soul, again, and I can play, play with light, of light, reflect it like a diamond, play music, reflect it to jupiter, amplify it to the sun, cast to the universe.
Animals can restore soul, if I let them. My two cats. Beautiful handsome creatures. Noble beasts with poo-butt. Silly spastic prisoner pets. Tati inspecting my keyboards. She's gotta sniff all the knobs.
I might chew more. I thought I chew too much. It felt like the awful truth at the time. Those were long times. Now I'm revaluating. It feels good to revaluate. Consider, maybe it wasn't all a waste. The balance I've been seeking between the sardonic and the sublime.
When I amplify music to the universe, it's actually not that, so much, I'm not inviting much of anything except a very specific zeigheist, a stellar spirit from the far future.
Who can I talk to about this? I don't know, maybe no one. So it exists in the form of a blog post.
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