I don’t write or speak much about myself anymore. These days.
It seems a bit pointless and I’m also fuckin’ bored of my own brain so…
Almost two years of (being) silence(d) now and it is not who you may think. And it is not what it may seem.
But I wrote something, by hand, just this morning. And it surprised me. But that’s what Art does and I’ve been more focused on art, at this point in my life, than I've been drowning in my personal past or future.
There has been more “being” and less thunking, thunking goin' on around here.
More practice and less talking.
It’s pretty peaceful and I’m going to spend more time doing this because it’s a necessary part of *my *progress.
Sometimes we have to stop (something) to move forwad.
In answer to 
Depending on your perspective.
As always.
As far as my favourite quality in a person?
Forever (and it always was) ...
authenticity and integrity both. But I guess These Things are One And The Same.
I’m studying Metaphysics.
Can you tell?
The Desert of The Real is An Illusion
An excerpt from “This is Perfect”:
a.k.a. Another book that may never be written. Intentionally.
‘Is it a coming home to myself, and the acceptance that there is no purpose of meaning to life beyond simply “being”? That the only purpose we find for ourselves is manufactured by pride and ego? By separateness? By our “Othering”.’
Hey…
About those assumptions…
Perhaps more to follow.
Maybe...
I'm busy Bee-ing. *This *typo is intended
Oh.
And anOther Thing!
A sense of humour is my favourite thing in a life partner or romantic liaison.
This and courage.
But, once again, they are One And The Same Thing.
Beta than before
Maybe
...
["ai free" - *stolen from Galenkp because I like it like this]