So the universe will end and this will cease to exist

I’ve just had a bit of a serious “writer’s rant” and now I’m back in my pjs and farting, well not farting but when I do, I will let it out, not that I hold it back at home in front of any immediate family, but when thinking of the writing I’ve just been doing as an attempt to feel like I’m “improving” improving what though, the improving to impress, as I’m feeling now that can halt production of the words, need to think and flow more freer come back for the spelling mistakes that’s easy. Open the twix, more chocolate, is this my tobacco filler, holding off buying any this weekend after slipping last weekend, but eating a truck load of chocolate.

I felt good today except for maybe a couple of short bursts, not sure where they came from, was I tired, still sore, of course I’m sore, it is that uncertainty, where will I be not so much but the more, I think about it this very “moment, “who” will I be. We don’t want to admit that. I don’t. when we think about “where” will I (I will) be, it’s detached from our inner self, it’s an external factor, of course with influence on our being. Asking ourselves specifically am I scared of who I will become, the other half, it is a half.

I’m not paranoid so much now when I smoke, I just write this is fun, I can expunge without letting it build up too much, I do need that expunge when I’m stoned, whether through music, and now more so writing with the music on in the headphones, Saturday night mix. Last night I mainly did the budget, that was productive and meditative, as it is now.

I feel my partner a lot today, I was feeling inquisitive of how her day was going, exploring realities that don’t exist, and perhaps elements that could be snippets of her going about her day.

Boys, know that this is for you, I wanted you to see the soul of who I am, the layers getting more and more peeled away as the story goes on.

We all have a story, you will have yours, you live it over and over in your head. How much of it is real, becomes reality. The only real thing is the never ending moment you are experiencing this very moment.

yes that one.

Isn’t time our 3rd reality? We are an infinite 2d wall moving through time. There is no depth to time, it is only now.

Then it must be reality is 1 dimension.

That groove, the beat, the rhythm,

Why do weed to define our reality through a construct, if we made it more fluid and not restricted through definition. It’s a way to give it context, perhaps control it, what we can supposedly think about what we experience, not how we move i.e move through time, move through space, I see space time now, we do move only through time.

It’s been nice, 3rd night in a row, getting something out, the words, these words, only meaning because the meaning has been created, the ability to give meaning and definition. Otherwise we would be zombie like creatures. We can still give meaning and definition without words, they’re expressions representing feelings. Physical expressions, touch, facial, body language.

Yep I farted.

Nice music tonight, great way to be in the now, this is bliss, my mind has wandered a little bit, but for most part it’s been here. Here come the yawns though, we didn’t do much today, fun day with the boys. AM I talking loudly when with them to reign them in, am I looking for 3 dad kudos, an acknowledgement from anyone, “you’ve got your hands full”

I’ll do a quick drink check, had a bit of a look at some other pages previously the time machine . . . hahah so much there.

208 days.

Nearly 7 months without alcohol

I have become lazy with the chin-ups.

I’m truly with myself now. Seeing yourself appear in it’s most raw form, unfiltered (hang on, so filtered) we’ll get there, it takes time, trust, with yourself.

So the universe will end and this will cease to exist.

It only exists when it’s being experienced, I see it or hear it so it’s real. Is this Shroedinger’s cat, the existence is only measured when someone measures it,

Over and out

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