——-Events, they are what rule the immaterial world, where you are running errands.  They only rarely combine into stories in which several people visibly participate, but still a relentless barrage of small events have you marching around, and pausing in wonder at your own outlandish storehouse of references.  I am not one who can foresee these events that, later, have me ensnared, but I can sardonically argue that I saw them, or the shape of them, coming.  At least enough, say, to have buffered and virtually absorbed the impact, made amusement even of any seeming consequences. And then I can also quickly adjust the future, such a hero am I, so that I appear to be still roughly in stride with my own life. But it is alot of shadow-play, and reckoning with mystery, and constant rephrasing.
——-Unseen events are shooting through time and space to the center of a persons’ life, and arriving, They are made of nothing at all, but combine things that were waiting in some realm of unfinished meaning. Everything is tending towards ultimate meaning, on the level of the most personal. Events in my life are intangible, they are connective tissue, shadows on a wall.  More untraceable than thought, for thought–though it is also unreal–has an immediate partner in simple actions. Thought straps one into comical action, I have noticed. While events, what are they?  They are simply comprised of floating meanings, encircling and directing and charming us, or ensnaring us within their unfinished storylines.  Where one is, likely or not, punished for being attentive.
——-Punished, I am punished by this life, which will not let me relax. I am a person who is always trying to devise and determine the world from the point of view of others. All I do is think about other people. And so, I get my fate. A person like me will always be lamenting what seems like a lack of events on the horizon. The master irony is all consuming, others seem far more busy, to the person who is always standing around with the most analysis, the most ideas–which he could turn into plans, turn into events (it seems), if the right people were listening. But they aren”t, they are turned to the wall. Lost in shadows. Such a person sees the vast emptiness between events, and that he cannot master the way they occur. The man of action is forthwith stalled. This is because events themselves are nothing real, but are wholesale fabrications formed by earnest behavior, suggestions that mostly do not come to fruition. Events, they are borrowing from sources beyond us, and  connected on a plane transcending any one person’s ability to perceive, and quickly rearrange, or judge.