A Place For Everything & Everything In Its Place

Upon The Motivation By Which I May Impose

Order Upon My Papers & Effects, The Result Of A Strong Desire

To Succeed In This Endeavor,

At The Very Least To An Extent Outwardly Sufficient

To Warrant & Produce

Genuine Relief & Pleasure

In The Eyes & Heart Of My Beloved,

A Most Kind, Compassionate, Thoughtful, Determined, & Patient Man:

&

In Recognition Of The Instrumental Nature Of Such Desire,

As Well As Appreciation Of The Most Great Benefits & Advantages

Likely To Be The Happy Effect, As Well Of This Very Gentleman's Response (An It Be Favorable),

As Of That Same Motivation,

(An It Be Genuine).

So I thought i would research organizational techniques may be there is someone who writes 'the disorganized genius' who understands how much more comforting a desk is to me upon which there are hella things.


The search? Enter "how to organize tips for disorganized genius still happy not sterile" & feel lucky.

“The first step is to establish a more organized lifestyle that suits your personality—it’s not about living in a sterile environment.

well thats encouraging. maybe this one wont talk down to me, discarding the standards by which *I* measure success. i read on.

It’s a conscious choice that’s conducive to how you interact with your family, & how you want to be perceived

well she's spot on with that. if it isn't for living with my love of my life - who is by nature much much cleaner, & for who his living space was always a source of great pride & enjoyment - i would have no motivation whatsoever. rather the opposite. fuck those bitches. fuck this assbackwards society, with its torture & its special privileges & its health care system killing people & with the way it treats the other, the poor, the downtrodden. fuck these lying motherfuckers. fuck them from when they first took delight in being a source of pain, & fuck them all the way through to forever, where i hope when i get there to find them frozen, suspended in the æthyr, their opacity fading ever so very gradually, stopped in their tracks like hiroshima clocks by some horrific device their kind is just about now set to invent, some bomb harnessing and pairing the awesome destructive potential of karma & deploying it in a gravity substrate to synthesize & detonate a quantum perspectival karmic singularity...


you see its karmic. so its selective. why am i unafraid? its funny, i lean back to answer again this question, a favorite with journalists, especially if they have never met me before. i chuckle softly because they expect it: everyone is still nervous around me like i am some sort of Mad DARPA Scientist eleventy gazillion times more demonic than sweet Oppenheimer, yet to repent having won (or inherited) the 'Death, the Destroyer of Worlds' award (title?). I like to fuck with them some, since its nothing really of which to be afraid, not if one really DOES love the Good & really TRIES to see things as others do, to love their neighbor as themselves, to love their Creator above all. Its so ironic this divide, as they regard me, obviously convinced their opinion remains unreadable, as they look at me in fear & disgust. As they are careful not to get too close to the reclusive genius who discovered quantum perspectival karmic singularities; as they laugh nervously & refer to me as The Sicko That Invented the Karma Bomb as they cut to make room for some of those new hip interactive ads....


no doubt the ads were for the Keep It Simple Now Certifiably Organized System, or KIS'N'COS. All the rage.


*ahem* This piece is not the evidence of an advanced case of procrastination as it would seem to because, uh, at first, uh, well, i would think that if i didn't know me as well as i do. Luckily for us, Gentle Reader, I do, & its not. Um. In any event I tip my symbolic Hat to Susan Brierly, author of the piece quoted herein, lest i offend: Susan, I encountered your Park Place piece in a search which not only provided me with strategies, but also inspiration, as you can see.


From the article:

✻ Purge first, then sort.
✻ Assign everything a home.
✻ Organize similar items together.
✻ Dedicate 15-20 minutes each day to creating order.
✻ Break projects into manageable baby steps.
✻ Celebrate your victories to keep motivated.

this i can try.


but: i would like to find out the exact parameters of the "line" that separates acceptable frm unacceptable behavior. I would like to know hoe these parameters were determined, so that i may go to work at inventing a good hack: i bet i could probably push that fucker out near enough to the familiar cluttered mess (of which i was & wanted to be proud) to satisfy all the requirements.


but: i am not proud that i cannot control my desire to blurt out something, sneer, or spit. when i was younger i did not react so quickly, but now it really pisses me off.


Where is that line? We have the more misdemeanorlike (or, i guess, 'softcore') habits about which i am expected to be embarrassed & from which i am assumed to want freedom. Then we have the felonious, examples of whom are referred to in that language of the dominant social opinion, unquestioned hidden assumptions, nazi like. the "hardcore hoarders" mentioned above. fuck you.


i am not hurting you. am i? if i am i want to know. i need to make absolutely sure i am not first, as a moral imperative, ad the requisite authority by means of which i can st& & survey & fashion my local environment as i see fit. because i am an adult & a brilliant one at that, because i am hurting no one & i consider my mess beautiful; because i am the one who has to die when it is my turn to die.


of course, everyone knows it isn't like all that. not such a big deal. whoa whoa. don't trip. don't overthink it. its not such such a big deal... its all good...

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