a slip of parched parchment or more

blah. so hard to find time to write when bouncing around from place to place. it is exceptionally difficult to be resigned to these things, to have no creative outlet for a portion of time (additionally, a who-knows-how-long portion of time). this personality is not designed 100% for the tribe; m would give it 70%, at best, on a social day. and so back to silence, to solitude, to the wordless and smiling friendship of nature.

there is a guy sitting next to me, who would make the best of friends with colin onstot. he has been reciting true lies and commando in true schwarzenneger form, not a missed or clipped accent to be critiqued. they have similar styles of banter, similar topics of conversation and rhythms of humor. it is extraordinarily interesting how, the longer m spends on the surface with the birds (obscure), the more he sees people who are similar to people whom he already knows. really, how many combinations or packagings of personality can there be; there are bound to be similarities across the board. even so, it makes one wonder. did these people come from similar backgrounds? are their parents, is their genealogy, convergent or alike in some crucial patternings? did they have similar shadings of emotion and expression as they grew up to become the people they are today? or is it perhaps completely random; god throwing dice and creating intricate dungeons and dragons character-spreads? 11 to intelligence....17 to charisma. a rounded 14 to constitution, unless your favorite hoodie denotes some enchantment, some past life, to keep you up at night.

aside, m had a conversation with rockles not too long ago about similarties between completely separate people. occasionally you will catch flashes, pieces of another person spot-welded onto the frame of another, usually when you least expect it. take, for instance, the way that someone whom you know closely holds their body when idle. maybe they have a slight slouch, or a tilt to the head. they impatiently tap a particular part of their body on another, or one part into whatever stable objects happen to be present. rhoda - "i push my foot against the bed, and thereby affirm that i exist, that i am real". think about the sleights of a hand, of a face. think about the way that your father holds his face, when it isn't occupied in some task or another. people have these maps....matches for instance prefers smiles that are one-sided, but for some reason he cannot smile quite as cheerily with the right side of his face as he can with the left. practiced muscle-memory...an immediate and unconscious responsiveness. and there, that is the trigger....who people are when they are unconscious of being anything in particular; when they are distracted and have no front steeling the world from themselves. these are the things in which mattress notices convergent patterns....a laugh, a sideways glance, a rolling of the shoulder. even if he cannot concretize anything in words about a person (for what an injustice to solidify a person, to seize their mobility and hold them to their previous selves....yet also how essential a reminder in this windswept world), he can press into your palm a picture, a parody of their tocks and ticks. and if not that, at least he can smile about them for himself (those good-natured smiles, occasioned when the veil of society slips up and betrays its inner innocence, its naievete).

this he can tell you, even if he has trouble phrasing it.