So, today is the day when everything will be depleted. When all is consumed, all there is left is emptiness. Indeed, it is precisely emptiness that you seek in life, the proverbial "meaning of life," since to live=to consume. So why not skip all that, rather than seeking emptiness through consumption and daily toils, find a way to search for it directly, discover a straighter path, or even better, find a path that folds the 3-dimension space itself, and indeed even escape the 3rd, 4th, 5th, .....all together, scrap all that, wipe it out, and find the source of nirvana?

Through meditation? Through stoned meditation? Through Vappasana meditation? Through through the that shaky jiggly piano rythm? through shower in the morning after working out? through typing with cold fingers as if the fingers are falling off from frostbite? through dead hand? oh my god my hand is not my own? it's saying things? what's it saying?

nothing.

was that a holy moment? I think I just had a glimpse of god him/her/it/themselves. I lost the moment just as I got lost admiring the previous sentence. That was good stuff. Definitely good stuff.

I'm hesitant to type more, occupying "precious" digital space with my mental masturbation. But since occasionally it gets better than real ones.

I didn't want this to happen, but it has to sometime. You can't go back and erase that now, that'll be just another piece of mental makeup you've covered yourself so thick and pasty with. You keep searching for that next step of dismantling it all and bring it down. Sort of, in a very real way, the collapse of Berlin wall!? Just let it out, you've been contracted and withdrawn for too long. and exhale. let it all out. breath, and suck in another 10^12 O2 molecules and make them mine, make them pieces of me, make them pieces of pieces of me, 10^12 pieces to be exact. hold them in my custody for a while and put them through torture, slap them around a bit so that they bump into each other, into others, into others that don't exactly resembling anything they know. Imagine the terror!? Jesus!they'd scream and find themselves attached, like the worse half of the siamese twin, to this hideous, gigantatronicalizationally-challenged monstrocity! They then go through clocks and wheels with 10^13 spokes, one nanosecand at a time, and when it comes full circle,

And them you make them pieces of shit and flush it down the drain.

Imagine the relief. That pleasant whoosh, they'd call it. Some call it nirvana.
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damn that was good stuff. Confidence-building practice session. This time you go for a reach and you made it look easy. Make it look good and not even blink an eye before taking your next shot. Your eyes are enlarging, pupils dialating, sucking in and lining up the next shot. You know he's watching. What are you gonna do, miss the next one and let me at the table? he thinks, or he would think, would have thought, would've had thoughten?
that's about right folks, that's about right.

how about a story with a detailed description of each and every single shot? Maybe, oh, no, this is a better idea. do it also possibly as a metaphor as losing virginity. Yes, a hidden, meaningful personal metaphor. disguised with your favorite game.

2:00pm, Thursday
You sit in the couch flipping through channels with hardly a trace of earnesty, and you come across ESPN2, a match for $50,000 between The Magician and Bustamante. And you get the urge, the almost but not quite under the bridge kind.

You go to Kelly Mcues, and you bring your cue with you. because you saw Bustamante's left hand shot and you go to practice yours. and someone comes along, plays you games and you play along, with your left. then he brings bets onto the table and you keep using your left. then he brings the kicker, the big hustlin' number. little did he know that you're just about to pull the biggest hustle there is, back onto him.

not believable. no way someone who has a servicable off-hand would be a virgin to big money games. But try to think of another metaphor though.

Come to think of it, having a lefty shot is a huge weapon playing against another. It's a challenge not to use the bridge, even if not accepted you can still make it apparent that you'ce gained an edge in the mental match: "Oh, you're gonna use the bridge? (option) I'm gonna use the bridge too then." But then again, you can't really fake a good lefty in the eyes of even just a halfway average player.

Comes full circle, don't it. Back to pool, back to yesterday's topic of discussion, musings on pool or something like that. Your life is like a skipped record, that keeps repeating the same 10 seconds over and over again at 60bpm. Comes full circle, don't it.