Here lies Martes Flavigula, eternally beneath the splintered earth.

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Blog -

Lost in their Opulence
Mon, 31 Oct, 1994 00.00 UTC

Frustration – pounding my brain with its painful pickaxe, driving all rationality form my head. I can’t think! I cannot think! Try as I might, I am feeble. The shadows creep quickly over my eyes, blurring my sight and smothering my mind. Fuzzy images of clearer thoughts dance just within reach. I grapple with them to try to untangle the weave that squeezes tighter and tighter onto my brow. Limping, I grunt unintelligible, ugly remarks at passers-by, blinking at my arrogance, lost in their opulence. Memorizing names of cities and spaces on maps, places to dance and scream your revelation into empty air, only to hear the echoes years later without the meek applause.

Problems… things are created to solve problems. Frustration is prominent when you cannot formulate these problems into terms comprehensible to the end of a snazzy solution.

                          FILL THE PAGE!
                          FILL THE PAGE!

           With what
                    prattle blather meaningless jingling bells from

Along with martens, goulish goats and the rippling fen -
these writings 1993-2022 by Bob Murry Shelton are licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

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