Friday, April 24, 2009

back and to the left

I envision that I would see her while I'm siting, tearing paper, staring out door. See her walk up, put her hands on the glass and smile. Her smile warms me up like the sun to a man swimming in the arctic while I sit in the frigid lobby. After staring in disbelief, I stand up, walk to the door, open it and we embrace. The distance now but illusion. Time now forgotten by her comforting presence. I feel as if I would have known she would have been coming before hand, the moment would lose all impact. It's chaotic nature is it's alluring beauty. Surprise is anarchy and anyone who denies it is lying to themselves. We crave chaos but trying to deny ourselves of it like some strange religious repentance for natural human characteristics. Romanticism is dead but the realism of chaos to me is a far greater love. I just want to kiss her. Have her grab me with extreme desire and longing and just be in that space in time forever.

drums blare over my thoughts

once, a boy, who had a stern realism that even the coldest of economists would cringe at, felt it was time for a new approach. He voiced the song of radical subjectivity. Nothing is true, Everything is permissible. Chaos is life and a life that refuses containment or structure.
Fear is life.
Love is life.
Wrong is life.
is life.
is life.
is life.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009


When someone dies, everyone asked about the deceased has nothing but sweet and positive things to say about them. "...was a real family man." "... had a true sense of community and duty to his fellow man." Every time this is the case. Any article in the paper is filled with praise of the former. But, if every person who dies and gets a write up in the paper as "...someone who would go out of their way to help anyone out.", then why is this world in the shape that it is in? Is it sympathy for the dead or are we just lying to ourselves? Not every person who has died has been a "good" or even acceptable human. The sad state of human affairs currently is enough proof of that. If a racist gang member gets shot or the head of a failed bank that screwed over millions of people out of billions of dollars commits suicide, they should get a more realistic write up. "...was a decent neighbor but really obsessed with his possessions.", "...was in and out of jail for beating his wife", or "...never really talked to anyone much. He would do things for the community but you could tell it was just because it was good p.r. for his company.". Maybe once we stop lying to ourselves about the dead, we can find the truth in living.