Sunday, March 27, 2005

Now for something a little more conversational.

It's an act of pouring, an act of resignation of being empty and yet filled with something greater as high or higher than the top of the chimneys of smoke that some ancient people strained to reach with song and dance and ritual.

Faith is something I have had in a few things. Mostly people. Sometimes included within "people" is myself, but to be completely self-reliant is like climbing straight up an oiled cable. Sure it's possible..you fill in the rest.

But I won't ever deny how much power faith has, or deny how much it must take to completely devote oneself to something that requires a modicum of it. Sure, that's easy for me to say, and the cynical reader could chalk up me as being dismissive, but here's an example. I don't have to drive on the Nurburgring to know that it would be difficult to race full speed on, but if I was on the tarmac, only then would I know the full scope of what I was in for.

The amateur reads the professional and cannot bear the understatement. The professional reads the amateur, gives up after the word “nowadays,” and decides that he/she has been video–gamed to idiocy; the amateurs are hopeless; this new wave will be the last.

I apathetically cling to neither label.

Rage, fear, ballistic acts of free will.

It is, at one moment, wooing the young girls with tales of Rome and the feeling of lying inside a mild steel cage, driven simply by traction and gasoline. The next it is ramming energetic fists into the face of no one at all. It is unease. It is the passing shadow of a sacred time, with no man to be held accountable to. It respects neither the Father nor the Police.

It contemplates night in the shadows of dim starlight and vows to "change the world" in whatever fashion. It bends curves in unjustly tampered cars; always screaming into another day, and without regard for change. It burns. It occasionally twists motorbikes into lumps and spires of metal in an act of vengeance against nothing in particular. It abuses both drink and drugs, and it sprawls on the hallowed grounds of its musical heroes, enjoying simply the notion of art. It worships the fight and the prowess of those who don't care. It does not wait, it does. It acts. It screams and makes exaggerated hopelessness gestures to the skies above. It is profane. It snarls and bites and plays the dog. It becomes sad and full of rage without reason. And also, it ages.

It begins to grow into an era of both Law and Order, and it is far too big for either. It cannot subside, for the rage will grow stronger. But also it grows without outlet. It cannot purge. It festers, dying slowly, until only a shell of itís brilliance lingers. It is talked about in small towns and revered by those that have not had a taste of it. It is electricity. It is hatred and love, with nothing in between. It is without respect for the detriment of nature, or the perils of chance. It fears only it's own timeline, and becomes all too aware of it's own frail existence, without turning an eye to the existence of its master...or slave.

It is youth, and it is all that we have. And now it fades.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

I would call him "Gigantor the Destroyer"

Instead of Bubba.

http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=514&e=7&u=/ap/20050302/ap_on_fe_st/leviathan_lobster

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

The downward spiral, revisited

Every last one of us is a fucked up human being. What is normal? We're all so damaged and delusional and addicted to petty things. so beautiful and barely functional. If all we embrace only the parts we want to see, how much of ourselves are we really accepting? I'd rather be an outlaw than a hero. Someone who has to embrace themselves because to not live on the fringes of society doesn't suit them. Someone who has to be everything they are, even with all the ugly parts, to survive.

The Way that can be experienced is not true;
The world that can be constructed is not real.
The Way manifests all that happens and may happen;
The world represents all that exists and may exist.

To experience without abstraction is to sense the world;
To experience with abstraction is to know the world.
These two experiences are indistinguishable;
Their construction differs but their effect is the same.

Ok, so that's from the tao te ching. Don't count on any semblance of theme here.