Never a dull moment, if nothing is happening now, wait a minute. Something is inevitable.
The stream of consciousness runs until the river dries up and like all things dust returns to dust and is picked up by the wind, whether of weather terrestrial or cosmic. We are all children of the dust and each particle, bit of information and thought within me is as old as when the megaverse was born in that original pulse that set this all in motion.
Everything written on this blog comes out of this one tortured mind, a mind tortured by all the terrible beauty and wonder that surrounds him. Those who would travel down the same tortuous path are welcome. Leave the straight and narrow for those in a hurry.
Many would ask who I am. I claim no particular fame or particular wisdom. I am a searcher and this is a diary of my search. I am also a visual artist, a musician, a writer, a poet, a philosopher, a composer and I have been doing all for a very long time. I am long in years but young in mind. I was born in Alaska under the sign of Aquarius mid-twentieth century and live north of Boston, Massachusetts.
I always appreciate pictures of beautiful women and beautiful art, both of which make life the wonderful terrible existence it is, but many of those who know me think that music is my true religion. But the music I hear is a far vaster collection of sounds than you might imagine, for I hear music in everything. Ask me anything Submit
Everything written on this blog comes out of this one tortured mind, a mind tortured by all the terrible beauty and wonder that surrounds him. Those who would travel down the same tortuous path are welcome. Leave the straight and narrow for those in a hurry.
Many would ask who I am. I claim no particular fame or particular wisdom. I am a searcher and this is a diary of my search. I am also a visual artist, a musician, a writer, a poet, a philosopher, a composer and I have been doing all for a very long time. I am long in years but young in mind. I was born in Alaska under the sign of Aquarius mid-twentieth century and live north of Boston, Massachusetts.
I always appreciate pictures of beautiful women and beautiful art, both of which make life the wonderful terrible existence it is, but many of those who know me think that music is my true religion. But the music I hear is a far vaster collection of sounds than you might imagine, for I hear music in everything. Ask me anything Submit
February 1, 2012
February 1, 2012
There was an idea here but it fell down the hole.
February 1, 2012
I am a pilgrim. Just can’t recall what I was looking for.
February 1, 2012
Look into a mirror too long and all you will see is glass.
February 1, 2012
I kept trying to kid myself but the punchline would never come.
January 31, 2012
Sometimes it can be so silent you can hear your thoughts.
January 31, 2012
One of these days it will all be clear but for now I’m enjoying the fog.
January 30, 2012
Luck is what happens to other people.
January 27, 2012
I looked to the rain for answers but each drop was only the entrance to an ocean whose depths would be plumbed by currents I could not follow with grace or agility. So the questions hung in the air, wet sparrows searching for a sheltered branch.
January 26, 2012
January 25, 2012
The sun slid down the back of the sky and into my skull, and so the story continued.
January 24, 2012
January 23, 2012
Ain’t enough to be who you are. Seems you have to sell who you are. I ain’t sellin’ nothin’.
January 23, 2012
If I had expectations, would it make a difference? Ain’t carrying that baggage. What comes will come. Expectations have killed many a good man. Ain’t playing that game. It may not be enough to some that I awake and I breathe and than what I know I know is more than the sum of nothing. But it will suffice until the sun comes out and all is seen for what it is.
January 20, 2012
If only, if only, [fill in your own story}, then send me, please send me to some place I’ve never dreamed of before.
RSS feed: http://dark-raven.tumblr.com/rss
1 of 327
Next page
-
“Flesh was the reason oil paint was invented.”— Willem de Kooning (via thejuvenilia)
-
“And the day goes by, but time stands still.”— Knut Hamsun, Pan (via looking-into-the-abyss)
-
“those who escape hell
however
never talk about
it
and nothing much
bothers them
after
that.”— Charles Bukowski -
-
“Some people like what you do, some people hate what you do, but most people simply don’t give a damn.”— Charles Bukowski
-
“There will always be something to ruin our lives, it all depends on what or which finds us first. We are always ripe and ready to be taken.”
-
Charles Bukowski
-
“An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way.”— Charles Bukowski
