December 2011
As the old year faded to black, the projectionist loaded the new reels into the projector, aligned his equipment to the screen and waited to dim the lights at midnight at midnight on the last day of this old film’s run. The beauty of a fresh film was that it was always running out as it developed, the auteur improvising as each scene evolved from its intrinsic elements, although in the end...
Every culture propagates its myths. Capitalism’s myth is “rags-to-riches”: consumption, expectation, satiation but never quite, more consumption. It is the biggest Ponzi scheme in existence because capitalism is a Ponzi scheme. Death becomes the only opt-out.
… nor did a thought recognize itself every moment. Some thoughts left dumbfounded and mute, enlightened only by the neon of the exit sign above the lintel.
And thus he slipped out the door before it closed, leaving the silence ringing in their ears. http://t.co/gdDgTorY
And thus he slipped out the door before it closed, leaving the silence ringing in their ears.
The sun rises only on those who awake. Dreamers dream in the twilight.
He had many dreams but few of them brought him comfort.
I wanted to know what the new year expected of me but I knew too that there would be no answers until winter had passed and the grass was again covered with dew.
It was hard during the bleak days when the winds blew through the cracks in the plastered walls agitating the wallpaper as though a thousand angry ants were battling for dominance beneath its sheath. They tried to feed me soup, pale and watery with the aroma of old tires, but it kept slipping through my fingers, much as my life was skulking away like a famished rat in the shadows of a smoking...
Beyond each closed door was an empty room where the stars danced out of reach and the music, the music that wafted through the unmoving air told stories to the blind so that even the very grain of the worn and warping floorboards became a map to his mind.
Breathe deep and think of the sun.
The greatest book I have ever read is Melville’s Moby Dick, and I am still as Ishmael, afloat and clinging… http://t.co/IXFjYNb6
The greatest book I have ever read is Melville’s Moby Dick, and I am still as Ishmael, afloat and clinging to Queequeg’s casket in a vast and limitless ocean, waiting to see a sail on the horizon, waiting to be rescued from the dream.
This was someone else’s party, so he left and rewrote the world.
Had he partaken of the people’s opiate he might have shared their dream, but he had forsworn this foolishness knowing too well of what smoke they were composed.
He treated his life as a means to some end he could not fathom.
His life was an inevitable chance occurrence but its end was not.
If the answers were easy, would the questions be worth asking? http://t.co/S8FtuaVv
If the answers were easy, would the questions be worth asking?
Be not self-conscious about glory unless to elicit farce. http://t.co/OC4tzn6u
Be not self-conscious about glory unless to elicit farce.
It is not for me to determine if I have led a meaningful life. I will let others worry about that long after I have breathed my last breath. I will live my life as I see fit and let meaning blossom where it may or may not. Posterity will cultivate or neglect the rest.
Because I did not ask to join the party, nor was I invited, I do not stand outside the window longing to get in. I have other places to explore, other journeys to continue, where what I am is enough.
All of forever in a fallen leaf shivering in the winds of December, the sunlight stark on denuded trees, the whispers of voices long passed into memory’s furthest reaches, beauty unblinking in sharp contours in my mind.
He would forage for lost ideas in the abandoned pages that lay scattered like fallen leaves on the winter grounds of this civilization in which he was trapped for as long he breathed or the civilization prevailed. Time and winds were chafing both.
The significance was held hostage in the gaze.
Each passage of the flame meant another name was exhausted.
He was too busy to think what she thought. He was too consumed by her skin. And that, sadly, was as far as beauty got, hijacked by a body for which depth meant that which light and shadow could describe.
Nature asks not my forgiveness nor heeds my pain. It is indifferent to life and death alike.
The nudity of the trees in the bright morning light was obscene and extreme in the chattering breeze that lashed skin and bark alike with frigid illicit glee.
I offer you no excuses, for would you believe them if I did?
Such was the brightness of the sun as it cut across the dawn horizon that it blinded him and sliced his wings at once, the covetous earth drawing him into her embrace with fervid alacrity.
… and then he fell to earth…
Thus was his mind never at rest… always working, always working, for any less was as death. http://t.co/yrbRmDDg
Thus was his mind never at rest… always working, always working, for any less was as death.
Oh, how the night sings to me. I hear its voice in my blood roiled with the waves of ancient oceans and the cries of gull and albatross. The restless winds, though cold and from the north, refresh me. Thus do I sing back into the darkness, calling to distant lovers, calling to those who would know death, calling to those who would mold from the secrets of the shadows the fruits of their art. Thus...
And then there was the dance, for all that it mattered, as the blood became an ocean and each wave another… http://t.co/C3qAIHF1
And then there was the dance, for all that it mattered, as the blood became an ocean and each wave another pulse.
It was not important to what, or whom, he was referring. If you were guilty, you knew.
Sometimes it can be too obvious. Subtlety is not a gift given to many. And then there are the craven.
Human beings, societies, cultures, civilizations make the choice to kill and then rationalize the… http://t.co/8CnZC0i2
Human beings, societies, cultures, civilizations make the choice to kill and then rationalize the necessities as though there never any other choice. It is what in the end will destroy us. Hopefully what evolves out of our darkness finds light before whatever we were vanishes in our ashes.
Once you have taken blood, whether in anger, or in pleasure, in the name of your ego, or the name of a nation or a belief or an idea or whatever justification you may make for taking a life or lives, once you have taken blood then you have become part of the unremovable stain that taints the human species, that negates civilization, that says we, too, each one of us will die in blood because we...
I am challenged by every choice to fulfill what it makes me and yet my choices fulfill what I am.
We slide into the comfort of night where darkness blurs our insecurities and even if only in our thoughts,… http://t.co/xovhI9pt
We slide into the comfort of night where darkness blurs our insecurities and even if only in our thoughts, we become dangerous and ambiguous.
Expect nothing more than you are given. Expect that you be given nothing. Expect that you will give until there is nothing. The sum of all things is nothing more than it is.
Each at its own pace, each in its own time.
And so it starts again, or so he thought, because was there anything new, or did things just tend to realize… http://t.co/PIYqSie7