are prefixed "....what does it mean to be centred?"
Firstly of course the biggie which is too melodramatic for me - that's the point
If you have nothing to die for what are you even alive for.
If one has been 'brave' enough to be 'normal' (actually that shouldnt be in parenthesis)
(at last" windows 11 is as on drugs as Hatesville peeps, and so unreliable, in fact it switches off the spell-check squiggle ITself if you tell the cunt "NO do not autocomplete i shall decide if my variants or portmanteaux are effective and maybe artful enough without being officiously bossy or professionalising lanyardic bullshit ..." and for quickest anti-gibber operations, never mind with an 'a' that takes ten really hard beatings to get it to work propper every morning [ i am serious] i need my glance-o-squiggle for a rough first draft without TOO many typos... prior to one day doing the other version....anyway i trust the whistleblower brownman who turned on his past employer who says "enough is enough" ...but centred= as today take the time after THE DANCE ...if only you know what a daily dance it is to get to here, and winter dancin is a matter of life or dead sheep bouncin' up and down on the Tightrope...and i am not one of them ..anyway being 'centred' is having the remeberence to go and bother resetting the fucker to squiggle so that in the usual battle with the machinery to do what it says on the tin, i am reset, even living in the ultimate swamp, with no hope, ever, of any warmth or purpose... )
Anyway yes centred....hahhhahhh ...well it's for starters like the slightly sane one said even if her Cheltenham Ladies gene cannot ever be subsumed into bein' normal, as there is a 'normal' - in the UK its 80% fair dinkum You Essay, 86% of us breed.... as she said in relation to yet another screwing with her 'being' " my ohh my another maniacal wrecking-ball, childless woman.."
One sadly has discovered - in fact i had never even thought of it before nomading off from the cooler places - only 10% population density of the pestilent Peninsula, how the childless had seemingly all ended up around the toe and heel.... and places in between..
Which explains a lot. And how they cannot say ANYthing actually real and grown up: because it means having such ferociously jabbed spears to ones side for at least some of the time and still managing eventually to bounce on in a straight line along the Tightrope.... and sorry there is only one spear that is real: one that drips with your own 'blood'. I mean that dribbled down into ones descendants