Blending and imitating my own passages. Insanity. But it has to lead to something. Approaching page 300 in this doc. Postmodern, my current. Elected, and concurrently rejected. Mr. Emerson would be disappointed, I’m sure. This isn’t non-conformity, Self-Reliance. Going to read, react as much as I’m capable. The Literary Terms and Literary Theory Dictionary I used at SSU, in front of me. Mr. Coleman, would also scold me for my diversion, this empty distraction. I scold self. No deserved capital. Mr. Eden would challenge my choice, I know. He would laugh, probably. He’d say I’ll soon be at bottom’s sea.
Too hard on Self? Derrida would say so. He would beg me, I believe, to consider the Now in juxtaposition with the Previous. No answers, even with this delicious Carignane. Truth: each day’s Mike differs. So how does he know where his vessel truly wades? No more digression. Asking, “What am I doing?” Sip again. The Rhône tells me to wait for solution. This, not formulaic.