Thanks very much Robin, for all the support and kind encouragement your
intervention builds and extends on. 

What happened is, I read Jeff's comment on Eyewear, about a person I refuse
on poetically political principle, to name because it's too boring to
explain how I ended up such a sad git with little more than a collection of
neural tics and facile web blankets, into which I gaze, considering how
irrelevant their guff is to me personally as a character in search of
meaning, no freinds, five-two, 240 pounds, cannot accomodate and in search
of submissive types for role-play in print with, in order to elevate a
pretty rock-bottom self-confidence. 

If you want links Hamilton, rather than lower the tone by involving you in
the nothingness of one bores private semiphore to someone who this time last
year was a foe on Jacket and is now a normal human person making humorous
capital outre le jackals round our dried-up wells - where any mention of
Segais Well is countered with silent prissy accusative glare and go-away
magnificance only the neural realities of a truly unenlightened faux luvvie
class, evolve into practicing -- let me link you this

<a href-"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSk51Lp-vHU">What the Bleep Do We
Know? Down the Rabbit Hole</a> (part one of 16) - a very informative quantum
mechanic look at the realities a contemporary guild of theoretical
physicist-wizzards and neurological professors know, revealing a far greater
depth of existential truth and beauty most 'poet's reading matter can excite
one into (from parts eleven and 12 onwards) delivering the cognizance that
sealed with a click shut, my grasp of who we are, where we fit into things
on a cosmic scale now the minds of people like Dr Michio Kaku have extended
Einsteins propositions into a theoretically proven realm of eleven
dimensions that Kaku's string and superposition theories posit as more real
than the Am Po foets boring the tits off you at the usual MFA places whose
figureheads for cleverness are Burt in the blah blah blah with (no) New
Thing remotely as interesting as String Theory, and a cast of hoax pro- Am
Po goons waffling in the  gawp-fest about to begin when that slim volume I'm
gonna spent the rest of my days nailing, becomes the boggest seller since
Pain Go Away: A Timeline of Foetry.

yr ever lying mirror

Dezzo,