I find myself in this kind of Talmudic Socratic mindfuck that makes blogging, or generally expressing myself all the harder. When I place my fingers to keys or I open my mouth, I find my questions to the questions coming up lacking, and my deficiencies of wisdom totally naked like the Emperor with no clothes. It's hard to accept that there is so much I know, and so little I really understand. Thinking and processing has become like that non-lethal anti-riot foam being developed that the more someone sprayed with it fights against it, the more resistant the foam becomes. I keep trying to find some means of expressing where I am, but it all comes out in the same old intellectual reference, lacking in the feeling that could endow meaning, making my life more than some intensive logic struggle. I distrust my current "emotional" expressions, because they are more like cold thought built into a construct of maddenly complicated order trying to mirror the rational chaos that are human feelings. It's like playing the flip card of the direction American culture is taking where so many try to make the intensely and personally irrational become reality through the appearance of irrationality. There is this old joke that neurotic build castles in the air, and complain about the floorplan without ever moving in. As if the ferocious defense of nothing at all, magically makes it into everything. Least one thing that I believed from my early adult days remains truthful to me, that insanity is just sanity reordered to a new reality. And that made me proudly insane. But then the truly insane believe themselves to be sane, so I guess now I'm just unorderly to those who presume order. I can handle that. But it would be nice if I felt the bliss of it. I guess the saga continues... after this break from our sponsors.