To find something truthful we must believe the evidence there is, blood of evidence. That there is blood as evidence demonstrating as an accomplishment and fact to be seen and felt. Proven Nauseating goo. Not to stand sight of it, not even a drop because it is full of meaning.
Alive to witness decline of the obvious there is a parade, parade after parade in which to shine and with. We didn’t bleed, we don’t bleed, we cannot bleed, bleeding is awkward, it is lame, bleeding is weakness right there.
I cheer it when it happens, WHEN there is a moment of insight into what we are. The low of assumption, low of circulating conclusions, when fact based truth is too much to take, I cheer when something else gets out than what was expected. When it is let out. Something else than a parade of much, too much with too little.
I don’t know what Hoccuspoccus we need making one’s truth right in the eyes and ears of those who play witness, bear witness, testify, who play good because they have to, because they know what is good, who can play perfect without being bloody perfect. It takes imperfection. That there is perfect there must be truth. Lie can never be perfect. To never forget is very telling, that there is no end to seeking.
The evidence there is: what can be seen as evidence? How close can we see, how close can we get, want to look at, understand to go? It takes time, curiosity, sensitivity and senses. The things you see, what you see, what you witness, how do you come forward with the things you have found. what to make of them? It is tricky. Don’t get tangled with the obvious, but the mess of truth, how to be truthful. Look at your hands and look at your face, look next to them and behind.
I had a thought about crying. It is a form of uncomfortable, form of cried on issues on tissues on pile of unused ones, in their wrapping, folded new and white. Crying as a sign of weakness, female sensitivity. But I must not cry. It will bring shadow on me, an awkward situation and around me nothingness where I cannot see myself. I can take it, keep it inside me. They cannot, take it for them, tolerate it. Cried on tissues, blown on, wet on taken tissue and I do not have a permission to talk about it because crying is a sign.