365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 284

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 11th, 2013

Please excuse the harsh language, but here's what I think of yesterday's post:

Today's Jazz Hands are a large body of water, the sun dancing upon the ebb and flow of their rippled surface.  Bound to the force of swift currents, tranquility may still be found within their constant influence.  There is no freedom nor terms of sacrifice and confinement required unto us save for the canyons carved out by internal agonies like the curdling of poisoned blood.  Chaste are we, the ones who are blind to the distorted reflections for the murky bottom beneath.

There is no escaping hindrance and restraint yet peace still roams through the context of control.  

Deep within these chiseled canyons, far below the violent crash of surf and into the churned silt is hope's residence.  

What a massive heap of steaming garbage.  

Allow me to translate:

We are our own worst enemies.  Self-imposed prisons are the most confining, but there's hope,  you just need to look in the right place to find it.  Freedom may not truly exist, but understanding limitation can provide a glimpse of it.  

An appropriate metaphor is the circulatory system within our bodies.  The blood is confined, destined to repeat its endless journey.  That is confinement at the most fundamental level.  However, if you liberate the blood from its system, giving it freedom, the life it provides ceases, which is even more confining.  Freedom is death.  That's the honest brutality of existence.

There.

I should have just said that to begin with but decided to torture you instead with terribly written drivel.  Not that the translation is much better, but at least it's not head scratching nonsense.

I've made a point not to go back and edit my entries after they are posted, and will not sway from that objective, but that doesn't mean I can't deface the post within the following day's entry.

To verify my gag reflex to the writing, Mitch informs me that it was the first blog post that he actually enjoyed reading.  We've never seen eye to eye but I now realize how different we truly are.  Frankly, his mindset of infinite impossibility is exhausting.

I just don't like him at all and I've come to the ultimate conclusion that the two of us can not coexist.  We are opposing forces competing for the same space.

Mitch must go.  

Today's Jazz Hands are a retraction, a translation, a Mitch retaliation.

Day two-hundred and eighty-four complete.