Monday, March 16, 2015


I was called a blog-walker once. I didn't know what that meant, even now I guess it's simply what I do. I've been committing the act of writing some sense into myself for a long time now. It has changed from actual writing on paper to an on-line diary.

Is that possible, to write some sense into one-self?

Is this blog-walking?

Is it the personal conversation one has with one-self?

The times are gone, when I wonder, second guess myself on the grammar of my writings. Now, I simply write. I've started to absorb literature, learned what the word literature actually meant. The art of putting 'feelings' into words, not mere thoughts but a slightly higher state of thoughtlessness.

Night rides always seem to open up my lungs and inspire me 'to live'!

The late night rides, they're not lonely rather blissful and rewarding. I'm still searching for words to deliver that feeling of purity and race of non-thoughts that rush and fade in my mind unto the reader.

Sobering up, I've learned that it's hard to get the same relief and joy without the use of any stimulant. I used to take long walks to tire myself physically to get a good nights sleep.

Recently, I walked a long-while in search of a library. I require a short term goal often to keep my mind and body active. I blindly walk towards that set goal (library), and pursue it with conviction. I place pure faith on my ability to get what I want, and as in most cases I'll get it (as it's the universe's law; you'll get what you want, you just need to be a little more patient).

I am reaping the fruits of my faith and labor by enjoying the book 'We The Living' by Ayn Rand. The wide ray of glimmering hope survives in my kind heart of- 'life','the universe of things' and my place in it.

As she says:

                            "To a life; which is reason unto itself"

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