In the backyard was a throne, beyond that had no bounds.
I'd play in that range. It took understanding security, figuring out the neighbors, hiding in the void. Don't trust everything; relax, though, or you might find shock, and that's seizing. Be the cornered or the system.
So we had a game, it was two bar hoops. Spawned from the ground, four vertical posts and two simplifying horizon bars. Ever-changing their stature, they went from an interest to a flyover. In playing the flyover, compression springs were found, and landing became the study. To cushion with maximum momentum, with the right twist, while digging deeper than the ground can support. Then suddenly, from the void—a boss.
In an interesting class, we sat in a roughly T-shaped building, an arena close to my backyard. Not many players, not sure why they went towards other moves. Slothes of care, they were more into coaxing. Where did she come from, another school? She was fast. So in copy, I arose to learn and play, which trusts.
To piss, pass, or boss. The paper games! To seize, get caught, or enhance. To consider, to unite...
Smokey Chimney, the length of the rise caused issues starting fires in the basement. Requiring a certain pressure to push through the column of stale air. A big poofy rocking chair where I'd slowly learn to read, with my dad helping through the process. Cinder burnt spot on the couch and many dances with fire to know its desires.
The road trips slowly adapted me to reading on the trail. I'd power through books, hooked on exploring more of what was written.
Eventually, introductions into technology brought opportunities to place a small TV with the inverter powering it. My friends couldn't believe it; portable consoles weren't marketed. Although wires were everywhere, it was good times playing and looking out while we visited family or found a trail in the mountains.
Alkalinity, the fine art of mixing stored containers. Ever precious in reaction and resultant—the miniature broiled in life, then hours, nay, days later, a hollowed approach, the lightning of unnecessary elements until lift was needed. The shed was a wondrous place, next to the sandbox, a pit of fire and water boring processes.
What trial? Oh, right. The chase.
Monsters roll, stacking the snow abound. Groups formed tribes, and tribal teams captured competent competitors of insulating properties.
It started with a peer—she was so sure to win. What did I say? Faster, thinner, longer? Suddenly, the better half was against me, a toggle of a gaggle, the collusion strong, even so early. How were they so coordinated after the bell rang? I was in trouble—the batty eyes all pushing my tease. It was springish, the weather gorgeous. Don't be suspicious. If I act cool, they won't strike. Then the main took the lead. Was I trying to get home or prove max distance? It didn't matter—they were everywhere. I think somehow from other classes, probably hungry after the session, it was billiards. One last slide out, the chase and polite capture, a slide to capture caught—then the strange began.
In the intermix rose social studies, tap there, output there. They revealed their alter posse, their antennae of influence and control, and that was benign—a bossy future day.
Presence, or influence. Not all seems practical, maybe heavy or momentum. Basements where trucks roamed deep carpets, the shaggy family's brick house. Have the trials already started, false objectives to tribunate shape?
Grandpa shared immensely funny comedy on the TV, a tethered remote or a false memory—if only for a moment. I couldn't decide his station; maybe he wanted to play draw out the kraut. I know this game, depth charges from overhead hollers of "keep it down." Was that sarcasm about going from so many in the house to so few? I had to learn how to slide down stairs—safety first.
It was the rain staff, Barb knew its power. I'd go cross-eyed for the sound of Oasis. Walks to the shops, up hills, down ramps, the concrete school yard with boats afloat—we roamed. The music hauls, pan flutes played upside down, my rants raved in hide and speak.
Oh, to trade, what a play! At first, selling lemonade is getting told where to sit with what to have—not a real business, mostly an act, a start of thought and noticing rules designed to keep the people safe and taxes flowing. How do you scale? How do you keep the units consistent? What's the proudest way to display? Where is the exact trade price for which? Let them speed run the considerations, competent competitors of unknown qualities. Hold this here, try this slide, trial sense the value? Consider and let me know the result.
I hope you find the virus of lessons in your trial to be net positive. It is ultimately only, after all, only for that object.
What is the competition of rhythm?! Your choice! I only know so much 🤷🏻♂️. What if it's a capacity to understand a particular cluster of traits that make a boss? A social learning or understanding of the crew.
If two interplay, then there is one share—net savings. When more, a chasm, a void in here—where?
If disillusion is your wonder—more void. If solidification is empowering, then back to bonds. What if those make for remote?? Who cares, it's we!
'Tis a foggy night, how shall we use the copper?
Try to use something with imposting inconfidence in such a large being. The giant sleeps; within its mind resides the comfort—the place to pumpkin and store (Ender's Game?).
Swinging the tree via force of lash, for fun and coordination. At a time were being in the trees was above the clouds. Barbarians, whirlwind was born.
Speaking of range, who hoodwinked that out of sight?! Unraveling challenges on what not to strike is an inversion possibility.
Bet your row program—chess match, engineering club middle school. Starting with those moves, I preferred checkers, yet it was new, so I'll scan full width. In Ti, I shared some trials choice-wise with goto for recurve. Amongst shorthand options that luckily weren't explicitly declared out of bounds.
In that butt cracked room they placed us, to learn about new processes in elementary. By middle school, it was refreshers. Notting functions, writing single rows on moderately next-generation typewriters. Travel no longer—sit here and take note—this stroke works your phalanges.
After-school arcades, tag space to fly, press B for boring—the side scroll smoothing with character redraws that didn't appear to full scan. The fun was in the fall—the smile reminds of that dig-deep retrace that solidifies light-hearted energies through rhythms and redirects. Eddy currents resplashing various remixes of waves like flowing warmth to the other side of a rise.
Here I sit all broken-hearted, tried to poop and only farted—probably the first funniest thing I ever read. Was it right after reading something like "Message in a Bottle"? Something about that setting... Road trips gave opportunities to explore the cryptic messages that drew from the road rest stops. Was it around the time of the little cryptography book? Oh right, it's a friggin' desert out there and not the kind you taste. Foggy trails, Dogger and Richard spent a while sharing their own trails.
The Hydra flood—SC1 had been out for a year or so, and in that time, I practiced. Sitting still in school has a net effect, and eventually, it became more reliable fun on a computer. I started getting bad at running, yet that didn't matter at the time—the best SC1 player around couldn't handle the Hydra swarms. Switching eventually to CS, it was like wedding crashers hollering to see if anyone else was using the phone line.
Leading into the first business of selling CDs after saving up for a computer with a CD writer capacity. I learned a lot about music then, charging $5 for about 8-14 tracks. Eventually developing libraries with Napster and maybe Sublime before it was regarded as illegal. During that phase, I'd learn about local area networks (LAN) that used the standard home outlets providing arenas for local competition.
The posse we developed in middle school ranged about 2-3 miles from home at that point. We'd roam, and some had older bros that helped us explore what wasn't widely focused on in school. The right way to jump into a pool while catching a ball—easier said than done. Leading towards an unforgettable birthday.
Every red rider type that's worked with a vinyl pellet knows of the task of unthreading a bottle from roughly afar. It's within the right void to focus on will the bb arrive twisting the right directions to apply a little amplification to the vertical strike offset of both kinetics. Then there's intel collection of computing spins to figure out if that amplification was a for or against in that particular decapitation, after all leaving a bottle capped is a potential hazard given pressure flux.