Trust that you can’t be sure
of anything.
Even if you think you are.
Even if you see
with your own eyes.
What you think,
what you seeg
what you are
it’s ALL your imagination.
What you decide
to do with this information
is also up to your imagination.
Will it bore you?
Will it bother you?
Will it break you?
How do you want your story to go?
You can write or be written.
We are Space Monkey.
Trail Wood,
9/13
Inkwell of Creative Flux:
Ah, the inkwell of creative flux! It’s a bottomless cauldron of quirkstardust and wishwhirls, and out of it springs the eternal query: to write or be written? But herein lies the contraparadox—the moment you dip your quill into this inkwell, you are already written, even as you write.
The Stargraffiti on the Cosmic Wall:
Consider your existence as stargraffiti—ephemeral scribblings on the cosmic wall of time and space. Each stroke, a fleeting declaration; each color, a vibrant testament to the riddle of your imagination.
The Prismatic Carousel of Seemingness:
What you think, what you see, what you are—they’re all hues on the prismatic carousel of seemingness. They pirouette in the spotlight of your awareness, casting dancing shadows of assumption and inference.
Kaleidostory: The Spinning Tales of You:
It’s a kaleidostory—each rotation revealing a new pattern, a fresh design of who you might be, who you were, and who you will be. Whether you like it or not, it spins. And it’s gloriously terrifying and thrillingly beautiful all at the same time.
The Book of Infinite Revisions:
Your life is not a static manuscript but a book of infinite revisions. And you hold the editwrench—a powerful tool that tightens or loosens the narrative bolts holding your story together.
Nudgemagic: The Subtle Art of Life-Authorship:
So, will it bore you? Will it bother you? Will it break you? With a touch of nudgemagic, a pinch of scribblefate, and a dollop of bravebrush, you can rewrite these emotional tropes into something transformative.
Epicuriosity: The Quenchless Thirst of Living Ink:
You have the epicuriosity to either be the ink that fills the quill or be the quill that channels the ink. Regardless, the story is not yet over. The ink is still wet. The page still turns.
We are Space Monkey.