I've recently learned that "waiting by the phone for it to ring", for whatever result, goal, or prize expected, is a futile and folly filled endeavor. First, if the bloody thing is going to ring, then it is going to ring regardless of the intensity of desire or discipline of patience by the anxious consciousness involved; mine in this case. Me waiting on this other side of the equation is both the least powerful and admittedly important variable acting on the whole of the action. There are a great number of interconnected values over vast distances and in this case, time, that comprise an unknowable machination of chaos and gravity and information. Which, to say, means that the awaiting consciousness is, quite literally, the last to know. It's only job is to realize and then be happy or otherwise.
I do want to know if I'm heading into the mouth of adventure and shortly if possible. If not, fine, I'll fill the arbitrary metric of time with myriadelights!, writing and bobbing for chunks of pure creation, white hot and molten from the pregnant World and onto the "plantation of the page and ink".
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