I often ponder this way; tragically, but aware of such - A simple kind hearted, Bob-Rossinial accident, upon request. A-non-mistake-just-happy-accidents-type of day, type-away, that day, but not today - An entwined referential betwixt two unparalleled; Friendship; echo to the silence enclaved, but to who and how? The Answer:

I jump at the task to embark on writing out my response, to this, a response to an accident evolved into tangible proportions, tangible beyond the physical, like a fear in the mind that can traverse the body, producing a sweat on the skin; that fear began as nothing, nourished and matured to form a physical, observable presence, living in the form of sweat on your skin.

Nonetheless, by writing this all out now, I am remaining physically stationary, for moments longer in one spot, than advised, but now my entire life path is delayed, or is a delay; whatever hinderance begets or begots, to what affects does this accident have?

Does this accident answer any question, or raise more than less? Whose to blame for good or bad? None of course, to blame - but to ponder, are one not the same in the other?

Whilst innocently and nonchalantly pondering this still, whilst still; peering and leering, flipping and flopping, grasping and gasping, relentlessly into my mailbox, mirrored. I am struck by the vehicle, aside; transformed: A Tombstone.

Had I not been at that exact moment, simply, they would've simply zoomed simply by, right to the left, straight by the intended area of arrival, near my mailbox, still, whilst so simply far; still, far away and unaware of the existence of my mailbox, so I too was nothing but a mere shadowy slice on the dimensional pavement: My physical form now reprehensive and carved.

Crafted then carved, meat and stone - once upon once again; Earth - more of the same that laid me to rest, in all ways life now is just; tomb and stone; -- Tombstone.

Had accident occurred, my life-long-one-way-trip-ping to the humblest of mailboxes around; would've been just. How do I ponder this in the light of I, I wish you to endure, me, I.


A ladybug, carelessly floating in the summer breeze, it landed at my mailbox, noticed me, ponderingly pondering, me, and we, continued on; a young child runs up, I playfully tap the mailbox, wrap wrap; sending both innocence and free, gleefully running, away from me, to safety: The scenario played out as intended.

Had there not been delay, delayed more by that day; two innocent souls would have been lost that day. A child anew and his new ladybug friend; however, only one lost soul transformed to a new home again; laying underneath underlying mounds of toiled ground; blood and bone burying one again; one stays below and buried, the other transcends soil, like tears evaporating into clouds to fall as rain; as it happens, the sun casts light as a tearful rainbow emerges, still; overlooking an oak-tree, birds, moons, stars; not knowing what news or tale those letters held, kills me the most...

Alas - The tale does not end, not in this way - For in my excited glee, I honestly, and stupidly, fell and failed; never reaching the mailbox physically; but reliving the day mentally, despairingly: For I was so mad I had scraped my knee; I felt the sting of blood bleeding; absurdism when comparingly, for in the fact that as I lay bleeding, on the ground in full view I could see; all of the following, all running, continuously, in front of me, oh, God, I can see... :

A ladybug, a mailbox, innocence, mailbox, innocence, in front of and on top of; a mailbox! -- RUN!

No sonic boom or force of sound could expel what transpired as perspective's perspired and barreled down; barreling, violently; carnagely; still. Unaware, of me, in my new position; and my mailbox; I'm sorry.

In the chaos of my fall and it all, the child's dog was terrified by the noise, and fled the scene.
There was a terrible winter storm in all actuality; which is why the driver of the car, slid and lost control, in front of the house, in front of a mailbox, through a shadow, which was all me, to begin with...

The driver was out buying salt and supply; to prepare anew, for this unexpected storm was well past-due; weather paradoxes. The driver even got held up a few minutes at the store, getting extra dog food and additional supplies for his kind older neighbor, this hold up of kindness led the events to continue; this hold up of kindness intended towards the protagonist of our story, but ultimately led to bad timing - first in his house, then wishing to be in front of the mailbox, then tripping, being unable to get up, and witnessing the black ice incident, always, striking the mailbox, with a flutter, makes me shut the shudder till the windowsill remains: Still.

The dog did flee; fled right by the left of the fallen neighbor; whose been grounded, through this all, and straight under the house: The night and the snow came, animals came, hunger cycles initiated; hunger cycles cleansed, soon to be reinitiated, perhaps.

The carcass lay, opened and picked, showing life in a new form, food; upon the path between front door and connection to the outside, one point of which, is the mailbox, between, safety with closed flap, unlocked and free-swinging, but closed.

The dog under the house, crawled inside him for warmth; spared from the hard coldness of snow, safe inside, still warm. The dog though painted from escapade, re-united with owner - 3 lives of innocence, in a sense, were spared on that day, from the perceptive of one; and on the pavement he lay.


The incident that caused the delay at the store, it was all over a pair of rope.

The driver of the car, wanted no delay, but upon grabbing the extra supplies for his neighbor so kindly, he remembered rope was useful and in low supply, especially in times of tragedy. The driver knew this, he has asked to have rope held for him, by the store.

To his dismay, the store clerk regrettably informed, a distraught elder man needed some rope, this was the last, he was really frayed. The man caused a scene, broke down, serene; frailly he said, the storm will be tough, I live alone, the rope is to keep my dog safe.

The driver was far from evil, stern and prepared, he accepted this as fairer, and onward he went. You know the rest.

What you don't know, is that all this time, the man on the cement was more lament. His trip to the mailbox, had much more purpose, letters to check wasn't his directive, he clutched in his hand, a will and a check.

The last step of his plan, nimble and simple, he already has the rope in the house, twisted and noosely; around himself, he won't apply it loosely, for he's ready to go, the winter it hurts, the chill to the bone, the coldness of Earth

The driver ends up obtaining the rope, recognizing it, as the personal note dictating it be held for him was still attached to the rope, the shop followed through and told the truth about the incident. The driver took the noose and untied it, retied it into an infinity sign, knotting it in the center to keep the rope nice and together, securing a straight, long, line, into a nice, tidy arrangement, in no way representing a geometric circle.

The innocent child who, once stood in front of a mail box, inspecting a lady bug, and waving at an older man, now stands in front of that same house, in front of a beautifully intricated brick path, with an uncanny heart-shaped rough out of place looking patch of cement in the middle of this beautiful path, and on this heart cement, a crack, no; if you look closer, words form, it is not a crack it reads "Thank You", across this rough cement shape heart, ants frolic and scutter, towards the back of a mailbox, I now stand in front of, watching my child play with a ladybug, underneath a tree, I scurry, hurry they yell, I slam the lid so aware and gently, that not a single tree would or ant would scurry, as I hurry up the path, I turn into my garage and grab a box, I flip the top and grab the rope.

I knotted this rope so long before, now at the knot I began to tore, I walked towards the jamboree, yippie, they all scream - hurry hurry - I fling the rope upon the tree, up and down, fling fling, candy in all directions; happy birthday, the yells so joyously; outside the thrill of the pinata I hear a quizzicality -- "Thank You? Why does this say Thank You? Thank You, for Candy!" -- For a piece of candy did so far fling, away from the tree, off the house and plopped right down on the path, a path between a mailbox and a cement patch in the rough shape of a heart, kindly. You're Welcome!

Sigh - long and deep; winter storm warning siren, ablare; desolation, neighbors gone, lady's-be-buggin', but not so the kids aplay; still: Unwritten -- Unwritten still -- I lay my hand upon the page to write, but a warmness deep within causes an endearing, encompassing, warm - a pause occurs, and I know, I know; I know: I often ponder this way; tragically, but aware of such

BDSM, Marriage, and Observed Dynamics Illuded Betwixt Human Relations:

There's many dynamics in a human-human relationship; marriage is one, co-worker is another. In BDSM, there are many roles to fill and play, as creative and dynamic as the human's themselves; turning sexuality into media, art, an instrumentation of more than one body.

The Master-Slave relationship dynamic is fully explored by this Feminine Submissive Twink. Sexually, it provides, beyond sexuality, it is exploring biological and physiological dynamics, encompassing constrictive chains of duality, and poorly designed trialities, such of circular cycles, a-pleasurable pit.

In psychology and existing on Earth, long before these modernized ideologies became tangent and warped, beyond recognizable reflections; humans communicated for means fueled other than self-preservation or ego-centric driven qualia. We explore this in the music of the Doors and when closed, vulnerabilities decay identity, and justice assassinates freedom, antithetical duality orbiting the polarity reflected.


The ideology of me serving a Male Master, sexually and/or otherwise, dynamically intwined sevenfold, holds absolute intrinsic value to me, as my heroes are/were individualistic and precise in their minds and bodies; the simplicity and identity-binding / closed-minded-dynamic-duality that is explored in the archaically designated Male-Female marriage based relationship has been explored.

It bleeds the fantasy into and from anything, everywhere, and in everyway; explore human-human relationship based on internal integrity and respect over outwardly or inert shallow pre-existing traits.

In RuneScape, a game most associated or identifiable with activities such as reading and/or table top games of strategy/communications, sans verbality, dialogically inducive and potentially influenced by such; bluffing!

Propagating the curriculum, my natural/a development; I learned how to judge and identify my inner circle based on no external personal human-centric or Earth-centric, criteria; that is, my friend/social group spanned from all ages, races, creeds, monetary status; anything of this sort. I befriended people based on internal traits, observed without fourth-wall breaks, so to speak; I had to find correlations that human being's displayed via non-verbal, non physical, AND non-contextualizable ways, all of which are found outside of, but do exist in, the 3D.

4D characteristics (internal):

intelligence (desire to learn) observable via grammar, ideology, etc.

passion/desire (goal evaluation, owns a loaded gun that would never be fired, archaic)

Integrity (acorns grow no matter what if criteria is met, external forces only decay the process of growth)

A human penis is designed to ejaculate with stimulation, using it for any other purpose, with other intent than what it is intended for, is in it's purest form, modern man's proverbial sea of exploration; Freud and company were correct about desires, however, minds of great intellect learn how to explore and/or exploit qualia of choice, the intellect becomes great when loopholes provide more pleasure whilst they minimize the extremes into pleasures and energy required into lesser.


I wanted to touch briefly on my greatest heroes, perhaps some alignment can be found: Socrates, Galileo, Da Vinci, Confucius, Buddha, Ghandi, Mandela, MLK jr., Wayne Gretzky, Paul Newman, Neil Peart, Jim Morrison, Paul Simon, Severus Snape, Alfred Hitchcock, and Efren Reyes.


I respect Masters of mastery, rulers of no measure; none can rule or Master anything; dynamics.

In a traditional marriage-based relationship, between a man-woman, the product will be another mind, a child, offspring, intended.

In a relationship outside of this scope of possibility, same sex, or of BDSM qualities, outside of the arena of organic biological reproduction; other areas of humanity are naturally going to be explored.

If offspring natural is desired, obvious needs need be met, if other qualia of life and sexuality needs be explored, the bias of sex being a prominent domineering trait relinquishes.

That is to say - If you want children, you can naturally sacrifice anything lesser than the whole of your spouse, as that whole will be made more by the offspring you two produce.

If you do not desire or should not perhaps have children, anything lesser than a whole mate is sacrificing your lives together; creativity and synapse now eclipse your desire for offspring.

Why? Are you intrinsically aware of the Earth's capacity or comfort, as if the Earth itself were and is a consciousness and a biotic entity, involved. Or are you inertly aware of the idea of overpopulation and simply do not want to contribute?

If someone does not want to get wet, do not ask this person the temperature of the water, as they will never know; if you see steam and assume it is hot, you are in the same boat as the first person; if you have scars, you have tested the waters. Some are still scarring their boat (Thaddeus Paradoxical), and others are passed that.

Food for the fodder; exercise in its' lesser form, if even, at all.