If I write a love letter to you. my words will not be like a pile of confetti that the talk show host made the lady on the tv throw up in the air, and then grinned and grinned maliciously when she realized how hard it would be.
Do not let the world know I am writing another love letter.
It will call me a hypocrite and steal my words from me the way a women’s beauty is stolen
Before she ever learns to carry it.
The lady (on the TV) threw a pile of confetti. The talk show personality grinned. “Oh I see.” She said, meekly. “These are the words I have already spoken.”
.
Shhh.
Cc: no one
desire is the root of all suffering
love letters all go awry
forgive me my secrecy.
the talk show personality grinned and the tv psychologist made the lady sitting on stage with her husband throw a pile of confetti into the air. “These are all the horrible things you’ve already said to him” the TV psychologist said. and the talk show personality grinned.
TRANCENDENCES
” this is a core tenant of Buddhism and I think it’s a truism pretty hard to deny. So the trouble I’ve been wrestling with lately is that desire colors all actions, verses, and paintings, that I love. Art is in the trappings which keep a man on earth, its in those failings of transcendence that become the
actions, of dancing/making
the striving that collapses makes the action which in turn makes the suffering which in turn makes the beauty and the funny. And it’s what I ( I think we (collective)) live for.
,
A good friend admitted that he could not understand the desire for death that had plagued me for so many years. “I fell in love with the material things of the world,” he said. his collection of rocks and rare coins and his grandmother’s hairbrush were tucked inside a velvet lined box beneath the bed.
"If there is an angle or a way to make it happen that will not compromise the whole I should move on that" , "I will move on that."
The complications of random acts of selfless kindness make people afraid to make them.
They go awry.
I think it’s your decision again. He was madhe was sick of flirting. He was done withthat.
I WANT TO WRITE ON THIS WINDOW EVERYTHING.
Okay ready,