I've reached new heights in bipolarity today, beautiful. I want to make huge, huge confessions. If the right people were around, I would. Snarling angry, lonely to tears, kinky satisfied, tremulous vague. I'm all over the dial.

Two influences, right this moment. King Haggard. "I will keep nothing near me which does not make me happy." Ani DiFranco-- "I lower my head, wishing I could [write] more and care less. Yes."

I've written several abortive e-mails to Devon. They all end, "--this is stupid."

And it is. So, enough of it.

***

One time, I was driving with White in the car, and there was a Suburban in front of us-- and I said, "hey." It occured to me for the first time that "suburban" is "sub-urban". It was something that I always knew, but it had just, never occured to me. Y'know?

I had a similar revelation the other day, about the purpose of life. That it really does just come down to physics. To biology. Because . . it's all brain stuff. There's a little section of the temporal lobe, and when you electronically stimulate it, the owner of the brain begins speaking in tongues, writing great works that explain god, the universe, everything. So it is all a matter of brain.

Everything in the computer is a combination of 1's and 0's. Every color, every character, every everything-- and it's the same with the brain. Except, instead of 1's and 0's, we have weird little chemicals and electronic impulses.

Everything you can understand, comprehend, recognize--

bipolarity attacks also, apparently, send me into a wild fervor of synonyms--

is only a certain pattern of neurons, which is stored somewhere in your large, spacious brain. Every time you come across something new, you get a new pattern which identifies and stores that thing, for future reference. So everytime you find something, your brain gets bigger. Your network gets larger. Your world-- in a very real, biological way-- expands.

And because the whole cosmos thing is part and parcel of the whole brain thing, and vice versa-- the whole point is to work your network like a motherfucker. Add things to it, constantly. That's the POINT. That's why you're here. To create chains of endless railways of worlds of worlds.

Our philosophy:

possibly speak tongues, beat drums, Abyssinian, street Baptist, wrap this in fine linen, from the beginning. My practice extending across the atlas-- _I_ begat this. More powerful than two Cleopatras. L-Boogie spars with stars and constellations, then came down for a little conversation, adjacent to the king, fear no human being. Roll with cherubims to Nassau Coliseum.

--from (goddess) Lauryn Hill's "Everything Is Everything".

Hey. Everything is everything. Yours isn't better. Neither is mine.

***

So, okay, wow. Feel better. Feel better. We can do this. I am lucky because I understand my tastes. I said this to myself while I was washing my car, alone, today, bent with sponge in hand, sun on back, face turned downward, saying to myself, "I am lucky."

--Alestar