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To be placed atop a shot of a woman's shoulder and neckline, with a scarf:

"Her eyes are a little too alive," he said in an overly stealthy voice. I tried to warn him, but it was too late. "You're being too quiet," I told him. "You're drawing attention to yourself." He wouldn't listen. "I'm right, though, aren't I?" he intoned. It was barely above a whisper. He was right--I had to change the subject. "That's not the point," I breathed. "You're too--"

I could hardly hear myself. I had fallen into his beguiling attempt at fading into the woodwork, and now we both stood out more than if we had been shouting. I could feel their eyes on us. No one knew what we had been talking about, they only knew we didn't wish to be heard. Most of all, I could feel her eyes, glistening with something I knew not. 'Too alive.' I knew that.


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-Calling a person a 'front runner' before votes are counted is just plain wrong.  Calling one a front-runner after some votes are counted is slightly misleading.  The race isn't about who the media thinks is ahead, and it is only indirectly about who gets the most votes.  What really matters is accruing the most delegates.  In the race for a major party's nomination for POTUS, the guy with the most delegates-who-will-actually-vote-for-him-at-their-national-convention is ahead. If no delegates have been awarded, there isn't really a front-runner, no matter what polls might say.

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Pointless Ruminations on the Absurd

The world around us is in no way required to conform to our expectations, beliefs, or desires. Rather, it is all but guaranteed to disappoint us, at least once or twice a lifetime. The loftier (or more deeply felt) our ideals, the more this may be true.

When we accept this incongruity and are keenly aware of it, but cannot change our thinking, absurdity steps in. The world no longer quite makes sense. It is untethered from rational or moral concerns, adrift in a bizarre joke told by no one.
Desire for normative order is often irrational and misplaced. Placing ethical constraints on amoral matters makes no sense. Yet these appear (sometimes, seemingly) inescapable conclusions. Hence the sensation of absurdity.

We can apply these incongruous demands to anything and anyone. But this is not a universal philosophy. It is a philosophy of the self, a diagnosis.

Well now.

I think I'm going to try to revive my online writing habits, outside of Facebook.

And what have I been thinking or feeling in the interim, across the last couple years or so? Well, I'm glad you asked.

In part, this.