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.