Left hander, allergic to penicillin.
Impending_Glory: It would take someone so distant-minded as to truly believe they could singularly sprout a vision for the world to veer to; something that most are too pragmatic and participated to even conceive, least not pursue. A dream that gifts the lens of power, for if the future is boundless, how can the present be. It's the meaningful shifts that are immaterial and instant which offer us momentum; everything else is derived and will slowly stagnate.
Impending_Glory: A powerful man operates as a playwright; creator of situation, passer of the script and enforcer of the act.
Impending_Glory: My head can become a carousel of delusion. The same memories replaying to current affectivities with changing dispositions, narratives controlled by the limbic system. The flashbacks mould with the present; fanciful half-dreams asserting reality, yet distorting with the cheeks and brows.
Maybe the past is always as vague as your self-identity; doubt your standing and the foundation will shake.
Impending_Glory: The world is an arena were combatants fight with their desires. A covetous, entangled mass of self-interest wrapped so tight it almost becomes cohesive.
Impending_Glory: Its the successful ones, the ones that overpower the collective counter-pressure, that view their desires as duties. Once you accept that your strongest desires are outside of your control how can you give value to a self, and why suffer to protect it?
Impending_Glory: People need to relish the knowledge that every act that life is capable of is always in conformity with the desire that spawned it.