Tired of being dead for so long!
I'm back from the dead, back with Alan version 9.5.
In brief, summer work was rough but ended nicely. I had the opportunity to hang out with my cousin the entire summer, and keep it real with the Halo buddies and the communist.
Now, I'm back at school where I've a relatively full load of classes and work. This past week wasn't any fun. In brief: back pains + chest pains + angry stomach + stress = no fun. The remedy is simple: I just need to relax a whole lot and take things a bit easier.
I also bring to you part two in my prose:
Chapter 2: The Struggle
October 17, 2003 - February 21, 2004
Exits towards and entrance outer, to desire the fruits of fragility
would enable the kind factors to lend themselves towards a humility:
So fabled, so curative, yet forcing a weary tiresome, only to settle
this season, this nausea of silenced terrors burning within that kettle.
Yet to entrust a doubt about a knot angled acutely in spaces of confusion,
reason would submerge calculus to transient traces of illusion
leaving only recesses foundational and rhythms discontinued.
May fractional pondering cease this progress: this mind to be imbued.
Without reason, unintended collapse and the befall of the lack of rights left,
trembling with magnanimous animosity, the angle perpendicular bereft
of fictions lost, dissipates to the parallel. An exuded breath crawls
reluctantly upon the earth towards rustic structures engaged in sprawls.
If ever before, should virtuous curiosity triumph over praiseworthy vices
of faith, though fabled nature uproots the seeds, the inoculate slices
of this man's pomegranate permeate the essence of craft: divine berthings,
be the prelude to a toadstool approach soothing seismic unearthings.
"Extensions magnificent, directed reason engendering a construction
worthy of utility. Well-defined function upon this focused injunction
of purpose, built to satisfy its maker. Within serenity lies this plough,
within its warm folds does it ever manifest perfection hereafter and now.
"Yet within its definition, lies immense dissolution: a reflection of
the architect which although built the chapel to fortify undulating love,
built not the foundation, of which dire truth and faith is held dear.
Yet introspection is left to the absolutes to quell any of those fears
"How can I trust 'observant' paintings reflecting angels and angles when
the fearful supremum and the beautified infinum are nowhere dense in
this deified metric space? Though my magnitude is faithfully ever present,
my origin is as apparent as the tears of king's eyes are to the peasant."
May the muses lie in gentle repose, as their last breath fails to reach
the complement of this man. May deception cry foul at this breach
of solicitude, at this Venus crop of broken treaties, at his ability to run
a retreat against the gods, at this journey which ended but had never begun.
In brief, summer work was rough but ended nicely. I had the opportunity to hang out with my cousin the entire summer, and keep it real with the Halo buddies and the communist.
Now, I'm back at school where I've a relatively full load of classes and work. This past week wasn't any fun. In brief: back pains + chest pains + angry stomach + stress = no fun. The remedy is simple: I just need to relax a whole lot and take things a bit easier.
I also bring to you part two in my prose:
Chapter 2: The Struggle
October 17, 2003 - February 21, 2004
Exits towards and entrance outer, to desire the fruits of fragility
would enable the kind factors to lend themselves towards a humility:
So fabled, so curative, yet forcing a weary tiresome, only to settle
this season, this nausea of silenced terrors burning within that kettle.
Yet to entrust a doubt about a knot angled acutely in spaces of confusion,
reason would submerge calculus to transient traces of illusion
leaving only recesses foundational and rhythms discontinued.
May fractional pondering cease this progress: this mind to be imbued.
Without reason, unintended collapse and the befall of the lack of rights left,
trembling with magnanimous animosity, the angle perpendicular bereft
of fictions lost, dissipates to the parallel. An exuded breath crawls
reluctantly upon the earth towards rustic structures engaged in sprawls.
If ever before, should virtuous curiosity triumph over praiseworthy vices
of faith, though fabled nature uproots the seeds, the inoculate slices
of this man's pomegranate permeate the essence of craft: divine berthings,
be the prelude to a toadstool approach soothing seismic unearthings.
"Extensions magnificent, directed reason engendering a construction
worthy of utility. Well-defined function upon this focused injunction
of purpose, built to satisfy its maker. Within serenity lies this plough,
within its warm folds does it ever manifest perfection hereafter and now.
"Yet within its definition, lies immense dissolution: a reflection of
the architect which although built the chapel to fortify undulating love,
built not the foundation, of which dire truth and faith is held dear.
Yet introspection is left to the absolutes to quell any of those fears
"How can I trust 'observant' paintings reflecting angels and angles when
the fearful supremum and the beautified infinum are nowhere dense in
this deified metric space? Though my magnitude is faithfully ever present,
my origin is as apparent as the tears of king's eyes are to the peasant."
May the muses lie in gentle repose, as their last breath fails to reach
the complement of this man. May deception cry foul at this breach
of solicitude, at this Venus crop of broken treaties, at his ability to run
a retreat against the gods, at this journey which ended but had never begun.