There is so much to do, and yet I choose to do nothing. It pains me not to work, and yet I leave it be. Days are fallen leaves, and autumn's clutches firm. Auburn crumbles through my fingers, the dust of time's allure.
Yet staring down will only fill the mind with a carpet of tree's veil, but looking up gives me a chance, to catch one by the tail.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

What is a sandwhich other than a vessel? A fluffy, spongy coating sealing an amalgamation of meat and fillings within, squishy materials who on their own is lesser than the sum of their parts. There are no two sandwhiches laying equal, only those alike, and there is infinite potential for how it can be arranged and enjoyed. All sandwiches are not to the taste of every eater, yet who can say a sandwich is inherently poor or tasteless? It is true we tend to group those alike into a group, by

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Time stretches on, with you in tow or not. It asks not to keep up pace, merely to stay on the path. Each a step, after another.
But what if, there really was something beyond?
Beyond the veil of the route that engraves existence, beyond our grasp of life?
Is that a place we can walk to, or do we simply fall over the edge?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Wash your hands for 30 seconds.

How easy our mind shifts from one to the next, even what we appreciate makes up not but a fraction of all that goes on within us, connections crafted and paths forged, walkways ready for us to tread them, and yet we can only strive so far away from the main road.
Are the additional thoughts wasted effort? Or what makes us living?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

How much longer will it take to complete this task?
How often do I think about that? How often is the question not, what am I doing? Why am I doing it? But: When am I done?
Yet, sometimes, for very few tasks, this melts away. Everything revolves around the what, how, and why. And in those rare moments, if the question of when comes up... the answer is the same: There is no after, there is only this.

Happy Filthy Friday~, and Happy Darkest night.

Treading towards the end, watching the cobble of the path fall apart, but the rocks staple together beneath my feet, each step progressing as if nothing happened, as if everything was right. But then, before the fall, new pathways converge, cobble clatter together, and before I have a chance to look down, the path is the same as it ever was.
And so it will be, until that fateful day.

Happy new Year~.

At times, there is a certain relief in letting go. I get used to burdens as they accumulate, as their compile and insinuate their presence in my life. Despite the loss and pain of letting them go, despite the agony of what I fear life would be without it, there is a wonderful sensation in being able to take deep, long, breaths.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

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I look upon the fruit's grandeur: its shell vibrant with a scintilla sheen of its hues. Within housing pods of nourishing, supple syrup. Each pod holds a seed, the intended recipient of the fruit's benefits. Were it not for the seed, there would be no fruit, were it not for the seed, there would be no plant. And yet here I stand, holding the fruit, claimed for my own. What right do I have to it? Other than that which I attributed to myself.
And yet, I am playing right into the tree's trap.

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What is it like to come to terms with one's conception? That brief moment where void and existence married, the instant our lives began. What was before? A question often left by the wayside, and yet as relevant as what happens afterwards. Most conclusions draw back to the moment, where we are simply happy to be.
I am happy to be, and I will be happy to have been, for that brief instance in my future.

Happy All Flanks Day~.

Perception and interpretation: Key to the establishment of connection, between living beings, and said beings to their surrounding. Two creatures holds different perspectives, yet if they share the same interpretation, they can communicate and relate to one another. Perception is grown from birth, the moment we gain an understanding of the world around us. Interpretation is taught, and lays as the foundation for our communication and triumph.

Happy new decennium~.

Results are often the boring part of an endeavor: they signify an end. The culmination of work, time, effort, and planning. Yet, once you arrive at the results it is over. What do you do next? Listen to the world provide you feedback? What for? So you can begin your next journey towards a result.
Another Journey.
Another Wait.
Another one.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

We bounce, between the real and the unreal, between the worlds nourished by unconcsious and those fed the impressions we decypher from the world at large. Clockworks threading towards their chime, is never heard. Every other tick, is mystery, every other tock, is waking. A blend of the natural and unreal. Yet, to a clock, all seconds chime the same.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Distractions are what makes up life. Down to its core. Joy, pleasure, sadness, grief. Whatever it is, it is something to do. And the times where we have nothing to do, is the time where we get closest to that fateful, dreadful moment. That which followed us from the beginning. What we are distracting ourselves from.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Stars are wondrous things, but you know all about them already. Will there ever be a time where you know more than you can learn? How many lifetimes would you have to experience? How many roads would you traverse, before you learned all you desired of life?
Funny thing, desire, we believe it is a sensation that will be satisfied once we acquire the object of our want. However, desire is ever present, it only changes what it projects upon.

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Long days, extensive nights, our experiences are warped by our minds, by the way we have experienced. The matters which mean little or a lot, or nothing it all, it still holds impact. Every step leads you close, uneven, pristine, or forgettable.

Happy Filthy Friday, and may you step into the new year in a stride to be remembered~.

Life is not a road. It is not a linear path to travel down, despite an uncountable myriad possibilities lay nestled between each edge of the path. We do not walk the road, we have been to every part of it, and yet experiencing it for the first time. We craft our own understating of reality through the lens of our ones perspective, a perspective molded by ourselves, and tinted by communion, relations, experiencing, the collective minds blotting out enough of the world that the negative space

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We also have a new story going up today, where Pinkie Pie herself appears to rescue a dear friend from the clutches of dreadful bureaucracy. Quite a filthy one this week, but lovely a goofy at the same time~.

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There are few's judgement which affects me more than my own. In the moment, that feels odd to claim. To some extent, the judgement imposed on me from others shapes the person that I am, to whatever extent I deem to listen to it. Though, that is just it, isn't it? In the end I am arbiter of my own judgement, of what I take to heart. What sticks. In addition, it is responsible for how I weigh my own shortcomings, and how long they remain, and remind. I have the greatest effect on myself, for in

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Tens of times have we met on the road,
each time we averted our gaze,
who has eyes for those going backwards?

Wish you a Happy Filthy Friday.

Today's story is chock full of girlfriend boyfriend teasing, and a ton of scat, toilet play, and waterspouts. So keep out, unless you deign to partake~.

Reduction comes for all, over the years, the word entropy rises to the forefront of the mind. Until one day it cannot be ignored. For some it comes faster than others. Those who have experienced it... it is their job to ease that sensations, for all that come after.

Happy Black Friday.