The Art of Cable

Friend, this post will be fairly blank and abstract: for the style mirrors the necessary denial. Every once in a while one should remind oneself one is irrelevant, much as I admire the possibility of having own foreign policy, or precisely because of the fact. I need time to do things human too, of no interest to anybody - that all do each and every day: things like savouring soon to be illicit cigarettes, admiring somebody's figure or being dumb and cracking away with laughter. When you have lost that, you have lost everything. I know public figures fart, but I also know they swell up trying to hide it. Not me. I want to taste, err and mend. All dictators effectively say: after me, chaos. My grandiose (also irrelevant) me says: I would like to leave this chaos of a wake of creativity. Friend, I keep constant watch but I am also afraid lest I smother you. This is partly because I am sure of what I am; none I have to prove this to. I am not in a hurry, but I don't have the time to explain. Some things have to be earned hard, and I summarized the contradictory impulse or succession (in myself, to myself) in the far away age of 22: respite, stirring within. I know I am once again heading to construct. I only can or want to construct that much. Destruction so in vogue, on the other hand - not my thing. This post was about things dear to me. This post was about my public equals my private self.