LICENCE TO BE MADDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
The words I listen to on the HiFi express how I feel, which is a cavern of stalagmites and stalactites, a cavern which is continued on and on, the words I hear echo through the walls but only penetrate to a certain depth. The pain I feel penetrates farther. The pain I feel penetrates deeper and resonates and reverberates, causing a cacophony of waves which fluctuate in all directions. But this madness is not something lost. I have a control on my certitude, but how or much I do and do not have power over. My control is of a minimal extent. And with that life proceeds at a tolerable, pleasurable, manageable certitude. But there is another rate and that is a life with an acceptance of madness.
This life, be not swayed, is not one predetermined, but one meandered upon by choices of habit and desire, of love and lust. This life given to madness, is not given to with full fruition of insanity, but is freckled with tangible productivity, one not initially chosen but which is accepted to, with a greater degree, and with nothing sacrificed.
Having the means, a life that is to be lived with pleasure, must be lived with essence intermingled with leisure. Such a life, if attainable, can be durable with such pleasure, while a certain degree of madness is accepted and ALLOWED! Such seeking can be found by degrees of madness which are the ends of the productivity. Without such productivity, misery and loss are a result, but with a definite degree of productivity, one might, if chosen, find themselves in that certain state of madness which is the chosen pinafore of the productive state.
This certain intoxification is indeterminate, however, for the present, the writer chooses either nullity or intoxification to occupy himself with while all else is void. The degree of pleasure enabled by the present occupied state is entirely satisfactory, yet this state, left unattended, ostensibly will lead to boredom, or worse, inactivity which will only hinder and impede the occupied state. So either state, occupied or non should be consumed by a self imposed madness thereby benefiting both states of being.
The madness of the occupied state will increase the output of that state, and the freedom, and that is what we speak of, freedom of mind, will only liberate the state of being when the mind is not occupied in its employed state of being.
Thus, the reader might be assured that a state of productive eudemonia might be experienced by the writer in either states of occupation or leisure, the one contributing to the other. It must be stated that neither states of being are chosen, both are a product of self, but both reacting towards a state which might result in a perpetual pleasure, a euphoria resulting from an assurance that the ends accomplished are enjoyed by the means.
So it must be confessed that there, although there is no end to the echo in the cavernous depths, this cacophony of sounds, might be a joyous one. It might be confessed that this Ehren E. Clark might be a geological marvel in this cavern, this well deep into the Earth which has no end. This Ehren E. Clark is a unique wonder waiting to be beheld, with a character uniquely his own and forever to perpetuate.
