There does seem to be an order to the way stories are told that enable them to be heard, say, a language, a shared heritage, an overwhelming need to categorize everything to make it comprehensible.  Now that the classes are giving me the solid structure to every line, every word, every moment, I can see how important it will become to learn how to break all the rules once they are your own.  Cowed by what remains, since now it is only my own fear of letting the brain cells splat all over my verbiage, not my brain cells mind you, since I tend to subsume that organ in here, but other's eyeball muscles are being directed forward to these arrangements, this score, a song of uncertainty but here making decisions anyway.

There are only the few of you around that I even care enough about to be conscious of, everyone else, go un-fuck yourself, an insult so bad I won't explain it!

Otherwise, love is sitting at keyboard.