Realizations are profound by definition. 

Confidence is had in (1) a person who believes in themselves and (2) can keep a secret. 

Truisms are worse than aphorisms because deep down inside we are all pedants.

There is no entry for “shambolic” in my dictionary of etymology but there is an entry from shantung fabric.

I told Rea the other day that if she goes to Mongolia, she should be prepared for not a single calorie of food to taste good. This seems preposterous, and yes, insulting. Sorry. I guess what I mean is that there is food, and it is meant to sustain one’s existence, and maybe it’s ok if the sustenance is not remarkable, as such. You’ll hardly notice the food because the sound of the wind in the trees will blow you away. I just wouldn’t want anyone to pitch their expectations. Food has truth but has no room for aphorism. I told someone else about Mongolian food a long time ago who said that it would be a good thing for them. They wanted to lose weight on their travels. Tragic. The irony is that that is precisely the kind of person who would enjoy food that does not taste good.

Discovery isn’t always good, but that’s still a realization, and profound by definition.

When your ears ring, it’s an alarm to demarcate an absence in your aural range. This sound will replace a unit of volume or caliber you can never recover. I’m told.

I only find out how bad I sound when my ears let me know much later. Here you go. The black hole in my ear that somehow sounds more like the color of chrome. I have confidence but I want my confidence to be had. If nothing tasted good, I would simply look for other ways to realize taste in the world, right? You’d think. When my ears ring, I have to listen with my tongue.

It’s on the tip of my tongue, this actualization. Just out of reach.

On the tip of my tongue, an alarm.