loop
-The whole damn thing spirals out of control. Slippery slope, whirlpool, the works; like a giant sucking machine slurping the worst of it all-whooosh-right down it's gullet. So what now? we ask ourselves. Heh, nothing to do but write notes about the experience to ourselves on post-its; black ink scattered across the surface, invariably congregating in the lower right corner like a... a... like a-OH what's the use? Really?
She told me once, You've got to stop the daydreaming. You've got to take a deep breath, open your eyes and get a grip on reality. Because it's screaming past you so fast you're spinning in circles, facing a completely different direction than the one you started in. And so you're not making any progress. No progress whatsoever.
But it doesn't really matter because I've got no GOAL, thus no PATH to it. I'm kind of just letting these things happen. Trusting in SOMETHING to happen-
The house explodes. A couch and a television mating in mid-air, passionately embracing behind the privacy of a thick cloud of smoke and steam. He gets a phone call and leaves the office in one hell of a hurry, leaving his briefcase behind, speeding speeding speeding until he's standing in front of the ash, breathing it all in. -on it's own, no matter HOW pointless it may seem, steering me in whatever direction fate has in mind. I don't WANT control. I HAD control once, but GOSH there are too many decisions to make. Even the little, seemingly unimportant choices have a direct impact (Wassat called? Butterfly effect?). Eventually, everything overwhelms you, swallows you whole, and you're forced to just sit and watch as-