displacement frosting

imbued fragility

Vanilla cream with chocolate frosting... did Raul mean me, or was it one of those

consciousness streams on social networks that always seem to fetch momentary insights

and wisdom commentary. This happens a lot and with tangible associations... The latest

being a new avatar i d created blindly,,, i m registered visually impaired you see,,, since 2004,,,

but having had sight still "see" memory depictions of every new encounter by yet another

associative behaviour... Multi tasking the associations can be a full time exploration in itself,,,

especially on days like today when a particular association requires detailed mental

focus,,,meaning all others to the wayside as beauties resting harebells amongst displaced

marram grass,,, such are my associations.
Todays focus doesn t feel like a grand revelation or epiphany,,, they usually happen when i m

nowhere near a recording device or keyboard, such is the nature of displaced irony,,, but that

of a babbling brook, provoked by an out of context emotion provided by a French rap artist on

a network stream of favourites, some of whom also babble streams of consiousness... MC

J'emmerde who swore and cussed with strength and fairness meant for penetrative action,,,

did so, so much so i felt compelled by the nature of collective consciouness thundershunts to

at least acknowledge a "like",,, which,,, minutes later became a full blown "share"...

Immediately i knew J'emmerde would create a displacing, parting foam in it s newest babble...

A quietude for contemplation and postcards of self styled philososoo... That s philosophy but

with soo much more,,, soo much less... Humbled, and yet still full of a smugginess i dislike in

myself for retorting a comment with equal measure of pedanticness and slumbering

jeteeliciousment... That s weir bridge walking, to landfolk,,, my latest postcard inspired by

displacement of meaning within the context of a friend s mother and child devotional text, a

personal trait of detachedness, the MC art,,, all triggered the postcard s form, a bendy

mannequin tweaked into a negative image,,, which my adaptive technology talks me through,

and with composited text, it s fleeting thought process turned into an exact measurement of

speech technologies placement strategies,,, yes placement without the de,,, how onreal the

placement of technology to depict a visual displacement theory...Raul s timely description of a

cupcake eaten that day,,, after returning to NY from a France concert.... Vanilla cupcake with

chocolate frosting... An American variant of icing,,,yet frosting seemed so seamlessly placed

as a description of a negativeised image of a somnulously porcelain dummy,,, stylised with

arms so placed to apparently stimulate a multitude of undoubtedly displaced imaginings, mine

being tai chi.
Pardon my french, was always a turn of phrase referred to when growing with siblings,,, to

humour an otherwise increasingly heated family discussion,,, usually about displacement of

objects,,, silly things really, like conkers, a fifty pence piece once, tackle cases filled with

maggots and such things... Note how none of those things were my things,,, pardoning of

French came about through my older brothers displacement of objects and therefore i feel it s

a boy thing subjectively... therefore, I can now safely and freely associate french rap with

elder brotherly objections, even though MC J emmerde is younger than i... because these are

more otherness examples of displacement context within meanings of associated behaviours,

that i just cannot facelift... Years of composited meanings, beyond the scale of patterning

theories,,, beyond dare i admit a drip painting by Pollack.... a chaos so fragile with nowhere to

start.
Humbled by some lyrics, not all, after all i don t speak french daily,,, i recognised the fragility

imbued through rap as an art, and how the limitations of language in some way create familiar

beats, yet a transcendetal essence from perceptions on tone delivery... It mattered not that i

couldn t understand every word,,, it s message was in the law of it s medium. Familiar even

sounds like family... even in other languages it sounds familiar: familia, famille, family,,, and it

s for these reasons a rational strain within consciousness can be associated with that which

has been familiar to each of us... interesting then, how in my British culture,,, the

Backstory

Humbled by some lyrics, not all, after all i don t speak french daily,,, i recognised the fragility

imbued through rap as an art, and how the limitations of language in some way create familiar

beats, yet a transcendetal essence from perceptions on tone delivery... It mattered not that i

couldn t understand every word,,, it s message was in the law of it s medium. Familiar even

sounds like family... even in other languages it sounds familiar: familia, famille, family,,, and it

s for these reasons a rational strain within consciousness can be associated with that which

has been familiar to each of us... interesting then, how in my British culture,,, the nuclear

family is all but deplete...Should we be grateful for the breakdown of rational patterns,,,and

their dissassociated meanings,,, displaced, disaffected patterns,,, not even of the wayside but

completely gone. Family needs a context... a theory on displacement... it needs more than

chocolate frosting.

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