Touch of the wits

Well well, I can't seem to speak, can't seem to write, yet I have so much stored up in the gut, that anything but release would be exceeding the capacity of swallowing thoughts and eating the aims of my heart in writ. Here are several choices I'm given: To write this paper out of spite tonight; to think about the grace that empowers the Kingdom to move forward, even in the midst of impossibilities that are time after time documented; do a combination of both and endure a self that dances and squats within seconds in intervals, overtaken by nervous energy.
I just want to sing of the sorrow of the world, the joy within the sorrow, and the wits of my gut... however they may be in this day. Perhaps sense is something that I cannot hold hands with, yet what should I care? I just see a 4 way chess board and reclaim to myself, what a wonderful world... One that allows us to follow the rules of the game, or expand.

Nothing but praises, nothing but the writs of my wit. I know not why there is refraction and retraction in my nervous system, but I do know that they are within my fleece sweater. How shall I let you out, set you free?

A Half Heart

I don't know what an entire heart would look like. Entire: adj. Not lacking in parts/characteristics. All the hearts I've seen have been artificial or dead. So, what's a real wholesome heart? One that beats, praises, hurts, and the whole chalupa. I want to see a real heart.

I ask Jesus many questions. A lot of times I think I make up my own answers, but somewhere sometime I heard someone say, "It's not about getting a directly audible answer, it's about knowing what Jesus did and following it." That shook up all the cells I relied on for knowing and sensing; loving. My heart felt relief. Hey Jesus, all I have to do is know you?

Watching a friend smile and laugh is a fun activity. When friend becomes a plural noun, you bet the rocket-ship is doing space flips (in this case, that would be an awesomely thing, not deadly.)

I had mole (with an accent on the 'e') for the first time in mi vida today. Yum yum. Thanks, Jo-Jo.

Feeling like you've got nothing to do? Feeling like you've got no motivation to do what you're supposed to be doing? I have a solution! Pray! For what? Nations, people (yes, that could be yo mama), pets, forgiveness, healing, joy, you name it! You coin it. Note: if you do decide to coin it, please do not be angry when it is not taken at your local market.

I decided not to sleep tonight. It is the last night of my freshman adventure in the Jester dormitory, so why not try to pry open my dead-bolted windows again? What is the harm in a little sprummer wind?

My toenails are still bright apple green... I have mixed feelings about them. On one hand (or should I say feet?) they are alive with color, but on the other, I feel like my toes are indifferent to the color. The thought is not too bothersome, but still a fiddling.

I saw a banana holder at Sarah's house today. What happens if you only have one banana left? Solution: banana hammock.

Fill in the blank.
It's ok to c_y.
(Hint: it flows)

I'm bringing your sweater Felix. Febrezed it to get rid of up to 75% of Airborne Allergens that have hidden in the fabric before you become airborne on Monday. (I think 'febreze' is an onomatopoeia.) Thank you for lending it to me!

Eternal Sunshine

Rolling over the grave laid Einstein,
If only he had an erased brain;
Such sorrows that stood in his way,
Through equations and a splendid bald head.
I shall see you over again?

Yet, the pain of mankind shall all but be kept hidden,
Raw and alive, we tread.
Along the road, the thorn was eroded,
But here lays a fresh thorn,
Ready with infinite greetings.

"Where have you been?"
The thorn asked.
"I don't know you... Have we met?"
Then the thorn was realized
"You pierced his head."


And now, that head of which was pierced,
Rules over the Earth in love; thou art fierce.