[Learn all about Hypnosis here's the link]
http://TheArtOfHypnosis.net/
You'd look at him and think anything to the contrary, he wasn't your usual comic-book spandex dressed hero, his social skills were met by special request only and and here's my point he was valued member of the kingdoms cross. He is the sort of guy you'd expect to meet at a ginormous long gradient of a compass degree crossroads, nothing below seven dials. He spoke in conumdrumns and left little yellow stickies everywhere however he sometimes give of the impression he'd let alone forgotten your name could barely remember his own. Yes he was a rebel that's possibly why he stood out well as a valued member in the infrastructure of the society. His forte was built on secrecy and his morals were that of the kind messages you'd read into on the froth of a workers cup of coffee. His hindsight was untouchable that moved at least seven realtime days into the future, and passion for women with similar defects can only be described as astrological.
One day of hero, the commander of the fleet, the leader of the tank movement, the boy in a group with the loudest megaphone, silently whisped along the town's high-street looking for suitable candidates. You'd find him chatting alongside trash cans debating with passers by, chatting to what would to one seem trivial. what we can learn from his actions here on the street was nothing compared to the work he did for peers, however and he shared this with me is where he got the source of that verbose terminological narrative he expressed in all his documented correspondences, with a whole heap of popular folks.
The ambiguity of his position marred with his impulse for peace and roots of democratic understanding to me speaks in bundles. However to others he just seemed a waste of time. Without the glitz and gaoler of his uniform some would never even know that he ever existed, but those that did knew that those who would in the future needs be such without his input not a single instruction, nor a chapter of any news or book be understood. He with him carried a code which does not get passed down or shared about around comfortable settings, cafeteria tables or god forbid smokey bar rooms, temples and official speaking platforms.
One problem though his oratory skills left something to be desired, his features were irregular and phonologists would look at his profile and see not enough symmetry in his features to believe this testimony to be true, however I contest this notion. The crook of his nose drew attention to his mouth which at times never stopped moving; he'd twitch and look up to the skies inside of and hypnotically stare inside the retina of your eyes. I suspect this was because he would try and avoid the consciousness that flooded into the realm's of his chosen insurance. Insuring the nation with sometimes mundane gaseous drivel. Some would even argue he never actually helped, this as I understand it today was just another complicated part of his under the radar genius. But beyond his genius was this innate bricloage of human understanding that made me more interested in nature and plant life, sea life and park life than any human psychological or philosophical trigger. The irony of this is he helped so many people.
The core belief we shared was about contribution, we both like to contribute, tape then publish however he had other agenda's and I was left with my own baggage. Going on holiday's with him would be a nightmare, sitting around the monarchies family around one table, sharing one red bottle of wine or carving up the same chicken would make no sense to this man, possibly this is why his communication skills left something to be desired.
He was as some have already mentioned not everyone's cup of tea, his narrative was full of known clichés and his sentences with again full of gaseous prose, however the discursive content of what he was saying was enough to ignite the fire that exists in most of us to figure out our own contributions. It's at this level he reinforced my understanding of just what I can contribute, just what I can bring to the table and more importantly an observation of what everyone else does. Negative I know but in the grand scheme of things he like most of you are reinforcing what I already know.
At times I'd feel myself tempted to go back and read into what was being said, but by then the topic had shifted, I'd missed the introduction then I'd be left looking in awe at our hero, curious to know how the day was saved. He'd set up problems like you and I would set up the table and his caveat was putting everything back to front, sometimes he'd leave screwdrivers in the place of knives, and monkey wrenches in the correct place of the fork. Even the seats seemed awkward, large, long, descriptive and overly adjective.
It's like dining with Frank Sinatra the brunette pink bow in in her hair girl said. You like him and love him or go out and join the rest of the monkeys flying around this time of year. We all sat around the secure yet unbalanced table and toasted to the days celebrations. Another lump added to the pot, another lump onto the cups saucer. Something watch it dissolve like a pole watched his favourite absinthe melt it's sugar lit flame. We all, well I left tokens outside the mansions woods tree's, I left lemon throat fizzlers in the warped eye of the forests bark and flicked imperial mints towards the bin, they always reached it too. I'm not one to leave any reason for prosecution he thought as he slipped another leaflet into the bin, and under his breath broke into a rendition of one of Burt Bacharach's mixtures.
http://991.com/newGallery/Burt-Bacharach-After-The-Fox-433029.jpg
To be continued...
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