I do not under stand, separate intention, the dynamics of posts that recieve comments, which have singular and unimpressive content founded on gimmick and flash-bangs detonated half cocked; and others that are explorations of me and my Quintessential Development receive few and form the foundation of Higher Levels. The Audience may take from granted the leanings, as they are wont to do. But the divide between abstraction and mundanity - as I see - is the different between being stitched into tapestry and cutting the golden cord.
The Friending, nuanced but scintillating in its regalia, is flawed in its perceptions.
Where does vulnerability and reality intersect amusement and engagement? This I wish to grasp. From where comes the blessings of an unfounded church, of zealotry condensed from experience? Is pedantry forming a sophistication that I am blinded? This is the conundrum of altered egos, the beast of genesis. The beast of Progress of unhindered evolution - the ghost of future leanings. To where the slanting goes is a dangling participle of where are you going to? This cannot be known, even with the best of intentions. This is the statement the slants the mind.
I am tilting at windmills.