Most of my social scene has been on Facebook the last couple-plus years. Obviously I haven't been blah blah blahgging. What've you all been up to? I guess I could find out if I was linked to your lives and blogs.
So this morning I crawled in to my little corner cabinet to pull out some artifacts: CDs to import to my iTunes library, since all the bootleg and other stuff is still on disc.....and I pulled out my old art and writing journals. What was I thinking, paging through summer of 2009? On a cloudy day? With Radiohead waiting in the wings, just begging me stop so they could lift me out of my melancholy?
My takeaway from this morning's session, folded up on the floor like a frog to relieve the soreness in my back and hips, was that I wished I believed in some sort of God. (Or Afters. Like the British Elevensies.)
I don't disbelieve in Other/More. I am aware of Other; it's all around, hello?
Maybe what I really want is to tap more into my animal. The deeper brain I guess. The brain that doesn't endlessly, recursively self-question. Damned emergent properties, opening up avenues and limiting others, allowing me to talk out my ass-end! So preoccupied with all that lint in the navel. To whit: all those iterations in the quantum load of journals I've penned over the years like karma laid out in patterns on college-ruled.
Talking with a friend about how adopting an animal's no-fuss attitude about life and the inevitable end (which they don't even know or think about of course) would lighten the load considerably...she chimed in, "Yeah, we (humans) aren't really necessary." I liked that. Skimmed a lot of that self-importance right off the top that I have a habit of encouraging to ferment and froth over, you know?
I don't know, I guess I just felt like writing something into the ether and posting this badass thing I made yesterday. I really like it. You'll see Vash the Stampede, perhaps - and Grant Morrison's influence as well.
So this morning I crawled in to my little corner cabinet to pull out some artifacts: CDs to import to my iTunes library, since all the bootleg and other stuff is still on disc.....and I pulled out my old art and writing journals. What was I thinking, paging through summer of 2009? On a cloudy day? With Radiohead waiting in the wings, just begging me stop so they could lift me out of my melancholy?
My takeaway from this morning's session, folded up on the floor like a frog to relieve the soreness in my back and hips, was that I wished I believed in some sort of God. (Or Afters. Like the British Elevensies.)
I don't disbelieve in Other/More. I am aware of Other; it's all around, hello?
Maybe what I really want is to tap more into my animal. The deeper brain I guess. The brain that doesn't endlessly, recursively self-question. Damned emergent properties, opening up avenues and limiting others, allowing me to talk out my ass-end! So preoccupied with all that lint in the navel. To whit: all those iterations in the quantum load of journals I've penned over the years like karma laid out in patterns on college-ruled.
Talking with a friend about how adopting an animal's no-fuss attitude about life and the inevitable end (which they don't even know or think about of course) would lighten the load considerably...she chimed in, "Yeah, we (humans) aren't really necessary." I liked that. Skimmed a lot of that self-importance right off the top that I have a habit of encouraging to ferment and froth over, you know?
I don't know, I guess I just felt like writing something into the ether and posting this badass thing I made yesterday. I really like it. You'll see Vash the Stampede, perhaps - and Grant Morrison's influence as well.
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