It's Time to be Thankful (Something else)

It's time to be thankful for what we have, because if we didn't have it, then we would no doubt be very much without it, insomuch as to be able to walk along the street and - when approached by passersby inquiring as to whether or not you have it - say, with a degree of confidence, "I verily do not have it at this present time." After such an event has occured, you may well begin to take it upon yourself that it is somewhat disturbing that the aforementioned passersby were aware that you had the thing at some point in time. Furthermore, you might be a bit upset at having to tell them such a thing; don't be upset, because while you're sad at not having it now, it will one day be replaced in spirit - an easy thing to say objectively, but the realm of the subjective isn't so subject to such rationalness. If you're not thankful, then perhaps that's just as well, because my watch was fast in the first place.

But really, I've been straying from the subject - what is art? Those who feel artful may be pleased to know that they're artistic, but, who knows, maybe it's better to say that to consider yourself to be an artist, or indeed a poet or philosopher, is to reveal that perhaps you are not in the spirit of seeking understanding of your field; as it is but those who are immature who would say to another, "thou art immature," just maybe the same could apply to something el-

Huh?! What's wrong? Are you asking what's happened to my mind? Well, you know what they say: "you know what they say".

I suppose it is nice to be thankful, if we look up to the title of this one. But ideally, let's not get too tied up in what we think is good today, because tomorrow you might well have drifted away from that line of thought. That way, the fall is softer, plus you enjoy it all the more when you drift back.

Well, whatever all of that means, as long as we're all happy, I think it doesn't matter. If you're not happy, please tell me, because sadness mostly brings about the belief that happiness can never return; but when you can become happy again - and I do mean when, no matter what; don't scoff that your swamp is on another plane from such a thought, because trust me, I can quite confirm that it isn't - you'll think, 'what was I on about?' It's funny, really.

Whatever's coming tomorrow, it will be done by its end, however unending it seems; I think we're all living proof of that, huh? Hugh?!

Seriously though, there are no limits to the conditions for feeling unhappy, and you're tapping into a realm of consciousness that can only be understood when you're unhappy. It's not easy to explain when you're in it, but I guess we're inherently troubled by that knowledge. Take ease, it's not painful or wrong in the grand painting.

Now, I hope you all feel better. For just as I am strange now, well, that'll change by the morning.

I remember being told something by a fellow pupils at the school leaving prom, and I'd count on these being words that'll go with me for the rest of my life:
"[Brins], you're the only person I know who sounds drunk even though you're not."

Thank you, my friend.  ¶ 8:40 pm