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miniver
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There are so many fractions of fractions of consciousness to be made divisible into layer upon layer of converging, convulsing, intertwining, any-possibility-of-contentment-undermining mental analysis. If there aren't at least three degrees of hidden meaning to Every Thing, then there are at least three degrees of hidden meaning to that suspicious lack of at least three degrees of hidden meaning.
Usually, I may let people know of the first couple layers. The good stuff I keep inside, to fester into a gooish ball of what, inevitably, serves some surely cosmic need for self-destructive egotism...especially the not-telling-you part. Deliciously destructive, I find...in a second layer sort of way. Ahaha. (You see? -You-, I mean.) The destructivism of actually telling you might make the third layer.
The same rules apply to this very post, of course. Did you know, for instance...
Only the tiniest margin of the intent of this blathe is attributable to my desire to tell you of the divisibility and subsequent infinite analytical possibilities of human consciousness. And the rest is...silenced.
This is an easy one, though. Only a few infinities. It's rather like one of those silly pseudo-humourous pseudo-tests that everyone (to reach any ultimate validation of life, surely) must have seen at some point during his/her education -- if you (you) read through the so many paragraphs of instructions (as instructed), you (you) only end up signing your name, or drawing a triangle in the bottom right hand corner.
There may be a degree in me that wants you to win.
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000411
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