back and forth

mixed in with the pure (e)thereal are entries that give reason to the ethereal aspect of the electronic the real, the electronic manifestation of the literary phenomenon long known as the written gardens that represent story of a life as i have known it from one extreme to another, from the farthest reaches of imagination (to use human terms, euphoria to horror, altruistic bliss to heinous torture, ultimate good to pure evil) to the simple reality of the physical experience that (e)thereal attempts to record (or so we profess), are the slivers, shades, blirts, and plops (whatever these are) of semi-obscure (some more blatant than others) obscurity that pretends not to know what the words are truly conveying (and yet, and yet... what?) as if that is possible (and can you tell and do you know and if you care you can but rarely will anyone) so the pendulum does what a pendulum does and the entries come and go as they will, even if you won't or never do...

in the middle of the night, in the middle of a dream, i wait for you...