Some things in life are beautiful, and others are barely perceptible. To each his own scale of illusion and clarity, of sweet and sour, of hilarity and graveness... as long as children remain safe and sincere.
I love a sandy shore. It fills the emptiness between my toes. A bed that was woven with earth, water, wind and sunbeams: this is beautiful to me. I’m made of nothing like that. I sometimes feel disabled but I’m told I can create my form and nature. I can be an architect and design my identity? I can’t fly. I can’t stay underwater for more than a minute. I can’t walk naked in a snowstorm or through a firestorm, can you? So what exactly am I doing to myself through this new framework?
Jacob Bronowski wrote "Every animal leaves traces of what it was; man alone leaves traces of what he created." When I die, I want to disappear into thin air. Leave the precious green to farmers and golfers. Leave the fire to foundries and the Olympics. To the rest of you I will leave different shades of skin colour in liquid and powder form, silicone mouths and posteriors, latex pockets, different shades of normal in over the counter and prescription form, a googol of virtual memories, first class rockets, third and fourth world countries and 1,722 lipstick names because I’m $$$ it. What a place of empowerment.
The human wheel, turning on itself because all it wants to do is kiss the sun on a sandy beach.
You’re so money. (Now that’s poetry!)
Usually, I would leave the entry at that and keep the rest unspoken, knowing that anyone who has been reading this blog for more than a week understands what I was aiming at, what I am always aiming at. Instead, I’d like you to take a look at this video.
I love a sandy shore. It fills the emptiness between my toes. A bed that was woven with earth, water, wind and sunbeams: this is beautiful to me. I’m made of nothing like that. I sometimes feel disabled but I’m told I can create my form and nature. I can be an architect and design my identity? I can’t fly. I can’t stay underwater for more than a minute. I can’t walk naked in a snowstorm or through a firestorm, can you? So what exactly am I doing to myself through this new framework?
Jacob Bronowski wrote "Every animal leaves traces of what it was; man alone leaves traces of what he created." When I die, I want to disappear into thin air. Leave the precious green to farmers and golfers. Leave the fire to foundries and the Olympics. To the rest of you I will leave different shades of skin colour in liquid and powder form, silicone mouths and posteriors, latex pockets, different shades of normal in over the counter and prescription form, a googol of virtual memories, first class rockets, third and fourth world countries and 1,722 lipstick names because I’m $$$ it. What a place of empowerment.
The human wheel, turning on itself because all it wants to do is kiss the sun on a sandy beach.
You’re so money. (Now that’s poetry!)
Usually, I would leave the entry at that and keep the rest unspoken, knowing that anyone who has been reading this blog for more than a week understands what I was aiming at, what I am always aiming at. Instead, I’d like you to take a look at this video.
