I constantly have to remind myself that well-said often masquerades as true. Sometimes that resonance you feel with the words of another are just an appreciation of form, a purely aesthetic vibe. Don't let your passion for words become credulity. A little salt, just a grain, almost always helps, metaphoristicallywise.
This is a segue. Trust me.
Standing on the highway, thumb out, I begin to realize that the highway is just a metaphor, that I'm just figurative, a figure, illustrating something else to someone else. They are the real and I am just a symbol. When the car comes, therefore, I get in, signifying something else, I suppose. The driver asks me where I'm going. I say forward. He pulls out and turns on the radio. After a few minutes I ask him if he knows what we stand for. Like, to the real world, I clarify. He says if you don't stand for something you'll fall for anything. I've heard that one before. It's clever, but that doesn't mean it's true. Frustrated, I turn and shoot the bird at the sky. Factor that into your symbolism, reality. Whatever you hope for me to signify I refuse to stand for it. Looking over at the driver guy I wish to myself we were a mixed metaphor. He just keeps driving, heading forward.
Hello, friends. Seriously, I think we're all going to be okay. I could be wrong, but I have this feeling.
Later. Love.
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