Booster Pack

Another prompt plays comet to your planet:

Sometime it feels like contact juggling with you over my nervous system.

Let me explain, there’s this hole where I was thinking about a phrase I used and thought to look up what the phrase means. I instead get another phrase gating me from the actual phrase I don’t have a meaning for. And so I’m walking around looking for the other phrase, when the phrase I did have (that photobombed the other phrase out of existence in the frame I was holding) invited me to imagine my body s one made of highly plyable material.

And so naturally the little magnifying circle fron image editting software comes to mind, but its my body, so it comes to mind as a sphere of quartz. And so I’m rolling the quartz over my body and it is deforming the interoir of my person with its mass and highlighting and magnifying connections in me and -

Stress Tolerance! That was the word. The word that photobombed was stress test, which I am familiar enough to not find interesting. And so you can imagine the patina of frustration and the mad dash of filters I call to see the frustration off and tend to the phrase and work through what the phrase might be inviting.

And it came up that I should pause and take this moment to check in with myself, how I have been doing, if I’ve eaten, do I have water, when was I last at the river, yes there is no consolation left in me due to my life, so a live a life of resolutions which leave me vulnerable to the life of a socialite who must walk the delicate world of never offer consolation, only inviting resolution to abundance.

But I am still found in love, I still have friends, voices emerge from the universe and hold communion with me and things still happen. I am still tended to and am a blessing to all who meet me and the rest of all I’ve been told and reflect back. What was my question? Well, have a haiku:

what thoughts fail to be story I convince myself of, and serve as fact

Oh yeah - what might stress tolerance be?

Here we go. You’re ready. Take thst breath.

Write your response.

When you’re ready, the next prompt flies in:

Yay! I’m learned the sane way to describe it. Why is my way so …me? I clearly know what it is in my own way, but the words you found are so… fit to task. Mine are like, if I gave the words I gave on onset for some single line of an original question from you asking what stress tolerance was, you’d ask me if I could try that again.

and so I’d ve like “once upon a time all the quartz was together in heat and memory…” you’d be peacing out and hiking to the nearest dictionary for the consision, and your journey would give you so much more of an idea of stress tolerance. Why might I not say what you say? Whay am I all …me about it?

I could go glablahblam got your smacking shiny perfect blorb here hope you wished well okay. But I fail so catestrophically theres now two - count them - two haiku just drifting in the vacuum of context.

…

Where are they out to go? What moment will love them? It’s so terrible, I’m so concerned? Will they be happy? Won’t they be wondering what they are brought to becoming from and it’s me, I’m the broken translator, I wanted to use a phrase but I din’t know what it meant, so then I went to look that up, and I forgot it, and not look at this terrible mess. How did I get here?

Actually, though, I have no idea how I got on this topic, why do I channel 102.4 PITY radio when I can’t just define the thing. On that note, why is the radio I built for myself out of inner cosmos material funding that station? I guess it’s none of my business, I’m still me, and that is quite alright with me where that’s good for you.

I don’t want to cut gems of definition with every ask to define a thing, but what’s up with approximations being so …their own thing?

One more prompt after this you’re doing great.

Write you response.

Pass it to another in your group if you get tired.

I’m valid? I’m valid? When did I become valid? Emotion serves, now? What was all the effort to make myself logical after, then, if I am valid? What is my domain? The “doesn’t fog up the face shield” of my stress tolerance hangs out with the “doesn’t fuck with nuance” of the logical definition.

I giggle as their face shield fogs up under the slightest provocation. They giggle as I stumble over what word I’m trying to ask for the definition of and can’t remember and diatribe until the path to remember the phrase opens back up only to find the diatribe function as a definition. We’re two haiku finding our way to our last words that’ll be all we said.

How does I serve? One’d thing I end up going the way of the first star to be forgotten pretty quick. But I’ve been here long enough to be a thing that puts worlds together like… well, like just noticing how bad I mispelled words just now. I’m like a walking approximation, what does ideality see in me? What does the erosion of my confusion bring that the accresion of my forgetting doesn’t catastrophize.

Love letter me.