February 2012
Time weighs heavy on the ill at ease.
Possibility flees every moment. It must be captured and nurtured. Probability bides its time for it knows its time will come.
It is not a matter that things happen. Things do happen regardless. It is a matter of how things happen relative to your circumstance.
I question you to make you think, but in the end you may remain silent. It is your option to refuse, your duty to refute.
Can anything we say and think be truly objective if we can only see from a finite number of perspectives? What about the point of view we miss?
All of my thought is an imposition of how I sense the world around me and within me upon reality. We are each the center of our own universes.
Does an ant know the face of eternity?
What if life was an infection on the face of the universe?
Nothing in this universe is pure. Everything is infected by the dust of the ages.
He ached when she put her hand in his for he understood all the possibilities that had been lost.
Dying is easy, non-existence alluring, a dark-eyed lover. Staying alive is difficult. Living with grace and courage more so. Living is most difficult knowing that essentially and intrinsically life and the universe are meaningless, valueless and absurd. Life is its own compunction and compulsion. Value lies in the perception of worth. Worth lies in what life and the universe holder for the...
It was easier for him to construct fictions about the world in which he lived because he could control the plot, make the characters, however unruly or bizarre, dance the dance he choreographed out of his words for them. Reality, and truth, were much more slippery beasts. eluding his every effort to bend them to his desires, and his will. Life had its own agenda.
I cast ideas around me in flaming disarray, waiting for them to expire, to clean up their bright ashes.
I don’t want to live forever, just long enough to figure it all out.
Significance is granted by the signifier. Whether something is significant is important only to those who signify value to the signified. Value more than anything else is a matter of point of view. Unless the point of view has symmetry, there will be no global appreciation of signified value. This message has been brought to you by someone of no particular significance.
Everything is part of nature, the universe at large… even the products of human beings, technological and otherwise. To think not is foolish in the least. There is an ecology to everything. We may not like the ecology that we see but we are as much a part of the overall dynamic as anything else. People who worship “Nature” are by definition the most conservative beings in...
He was constantly bending myths to his own purpose in order to propagate his own myth.
What if Icarus had lived to be old and approached the sun one more time, to feel the feathers drop from his wings yet again and hear the roaring rush of the air in his ears as he fell back into the earth’s embrace? Thus is the dance of art and death, to fly where no other has flown.
Too much of life is caught up with negotiating its necessary evils.
Before you decide it’s the end of the world, think about it. Does it really matter that much? Does anything?
You can travel many miles yet still be no farther from yourself than you were before.
If the world will not accept me as I am, then I must remake the world, give it new eyes.
Center your being. Draw upon your inner resources. Although the world may tilt, you will remain calm and focused through all the chaos that ensues around you. You must be the still point, the quiet pond that reflects the universe.
One idea can start a fire, one beam of light, a sunrise.
Winter was a failure much to the joy of the birds singing on the branch.
Focus on what it and what will be will take care of itself.
Even pain can be cleansing. I do not speak from ignorance.
Assume that it gets better after death and condemn yourself to a life of delusion. This is as good as it gets for it is here and now.
All things pass. Even I too will be silenced.
That he had night thoughts under the gaze of the ascending sun was nothing new, for even on the brightest day there remained shadows.
Death is kind to some. To others, indifferent to their suffering. It is the living who are cursed, for they must continue.
Death should not be feared. It befriends all living things eventually.
He felt strangely liberated by the crying of the women as though it was all right to be dying, fitfully sipping the cool morning air in shallow breaths.
The triage unit segregated those who could be saved, but he was not among them. It was a very silent tent, only the music of the wind outside bowed across unseen strings tuned to an ancient minor mode.
And when he was gone they said he was never there… except for the words written in the blowing sand.
He was only a mirage on the horizon of her life.
My life is a random accident. You are all its victims.
Reality is a tenuous concept. Perception is a fragile window through which to understand it. Everything is what it seems and nothing is what it seems.
It could always be worse.
There are only a few sane people in this world and I do not claim their company.
She approached me with a strident assertiveness, breasts flouncing to independent rhythms as though her bra could contain their intrinsic energy.
Waylaid by the pain of a migraine that blew my head into a million tiny pieces, I lose a day on the journey, lost in the burning white noise, lost in the grey snow on the screen, life indistinct, crushed, indifferent. I wait for clear, for life to resume, for the picture again to have edges and definition.
It never dawned upon me. No, seriously, it never dawned upon me and I’m in the dark. But that’s all right. You don’t have to look your antagonists in the eye. And listening in the dark you discover the low tones.
The chorus of the birds said spring but I had been fooled before and I was not ready to trust them now.
He would offer no excuses for being what he was and no promises that he would be anything else.
He was a pioneer in the underbrush of her love.
When you have been sated by everything that this world has to offer then you know that it is time to leave.
The tide lapped over her naked body like ashes over a freshly filled grave.
There is always a way, just not always the one we have chosen.
With each word he built his dream as though the mere breathing of words were magic and he could bring her to life, for as he knew too well loving was an action, to love a verb.