i am thinking of you. thinking of you in ways that have no meaning because these thoughts are all astray. but unfortunately, there is no funnel to gather them, no container as their destination. they are powerless. and deluded. these thoughts. they are arrogant. they assume that because they have volume and mass that they can control who hears them and how often they are heard. their need for attention stifles their content.

it is humbling to think about you. but not in a power way. humbled in the recognition that my thoughts of you have no real function. they do not reach you, or impact you, or anger you, or inspire you, provoke or entertain you. these thoughts i have of you, for you,  actually have absolutely nothing to do with you at all. i don’t know what they’re for. they certainly are not there for me. my body just happens to be the machine that churns them out.

they need a container, or an ashtray.  otherwise, what happens to them? where do they go? what becomes of them? i really can’t say. Somehow,  I have to just ride them out.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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