FROM THE DELETED FILES: The Beautiful Dichotomy, I call Me.

It's in every judgment i've made, each sentence that has escaped my grasp, that vast canyon that lies in between these lines; the parody, the enigma, the point from a to b and b and c and c to d and d to e, until the z, and while there, at it's assumed end, it ascends in perfect invisibility and tranquility. I wonder (which according to Socrates signifies my aspiration; the momentum, to wisdom) at, today, Purpose: not just the perception but the path, not merely the idea but the actualization. I wonder and debate the dangers of fusion. To trust in good without hoping for good. To be considered compassionate while declaring conservative. To hold sweaty hands with idealism while kissing the mask of reality. To gladly stumble along while desperately learning to run.

Taking it for what it's worth. It's worth: always discovering, unearthing, becoming, understanding, learning, balancing, honing in, drawing near but never to, arriving.

I think.

I think that's the foundation of my Dichotomy: The neurotic avoidance of assuming blindly and the fear to completely commit to one train of thought. Kinda.

Absolutes, Absolutes, Absolutes. Those I struggle in perspiration trying to do more than believe, but to, live.

Humph and to think this post was going to be about the ungodly cost of those double espresso Starbucks shots you can buy at the gas station and grocery stores. $2.48!!!!