Climbing out of the bath i struggled to retrieve the word “misogyny;” two days earlier i struggled for the names of two prominent painters in my training Monet, and Manet. Certainly this lapse could be attributed to stress and a certain laziness about physical hygiene as pertains elevating the heart rate, and/or it is a function of death-denial that visits every self-aware living organism moments prior to . .. ··· C.G. Jung bandied about the human archetype, nor will i quarrel with such a notion based on too many personal experiences, even with monocular vision, of a fairly clear apprehension of individuals from many meters out. Projection is a bitch, and i cut it to the bone each time i find judgement in my gaze - yet i’d be a fool to disregard any repeating pattern the same as night follows day and winter follows fall. It is the openness to understanding what one is seeing while gazing as deeply into whatever aspect of existence one can summon in this “demand for attention” environment encroaching on every waking moment of our short life span.
So it is with pertinence about this narrative - anymore that i maintain some conceit about control over my smear on the planet i am yoked to the delusion of meaning within this prose murmuring. Our time is nigh as a life form on terra so by my thinking as much as we can infuse each moment left to any of us with meaning is, ipso facto the entire dimension of the universe. It’s now 3:30 and Mozart’s Requiem is 7/8ths through youtube, while i am only 1 1/3 thru this exercise in futility. I climbed out of the bathtub fortified by clean skin and an epsom salt soak facing no more than a par-broiled week-old chicken and wilted vegetable dinner that is further wilting under the weight of a requiem i hold little solidarity with, so i shall switch to rockabilly via heartbreak hotel hoping for some existential common ground . .. ··· yeah that’s a lot better, though Elvis caved into a reactionary echo in his latter days - my heart remains open to real feeling.
I have no idea 2 paragraphs into this day’s obligation and if that is too uncomfortable for you to follow - see ya’ in the funny papers. Youtube to its credit follows up with more Elvis “now or never” schmaltz. I wonder if this is what it was like for that persona that was left of Elvis “leaving the building” after he had sold his soul to Tricky Dick¿ am losing the thread and resorted to Youtube’s cue for Robert Johnson, for is this is actually a chronicle there is small percentage of the readers regardless of the date who have no clue who Robert Johnson is anymore than they might recognize my obscure self. How to find language that conveys the fundamentals of our crisis. “You keep walking down this path, and you gonna die!” doesn’t seem enough, but like the empty plate at a table full of appetites, @t’sal there is’”.
I’m in foreign territory literally and must follow words as the emerge from the morass. The world i was born to has dissolved and all the recognizable signposts of meaning point in contradictory directions as though the Master of Paradox had begun directing existential traffic. Me, the only sea anchor i know to follow is the drift from my love chain that pulls on my heart strings. It use to be features i could replicate reminding me of a home life which dissolved like the solids that evaporated in front of Magritte’s eyes when he conceptualized atoms. What is left of my intellect understands the flesh falling from my bones wherever they cease motion; however that concept does not absolve me from a genetic responsibility to leave wherever i rest better than when i found it. If you have never occupied yourself with this conundrum, no amount of explanation will help you to understand the paradox this poses. If you feel that your presence is no more than burden to all you encounter, then there is no act that aids all you meet, yet if you accept the responsibility to relieve one person you meet from any burden you may - the entire equation for life is changed.
It only becomes really fun when you multiply such a conceit by the the numbers available to our feeble and weak imaginations that real fun emerges. What if all of our collective fantasies manifested at one moment outside of the “singularity” posited by the corporate overlords and their henchman’s pernicious claim by “Art Intel”¿ What if our dying planet harvested the inexhaustible energy of all human effort and it more resembled “Jerry Springer” ¿ would you be able to abandon your vision of Madonna’s, Soulmates, Perfect-Jobs, Honest Leaders . .. ··· ? Have we reached a level of desperation that we can appreciate the wisdom of pre-pubescent savant pointing simply and accurately at the doom we are forging through cowardice and greed? It is hard enough for me to complete 5 paragraphs resembling anything useful to a world absorbed by the dishonest media demise of one more danger far less dangerous than the perpetual war a handful of haters have successfully yoked humanity for no better reason than perpetual profit - yeah don’t i feel dumb as fuck · what about you ¿?
jts 25/04/2020
http://stoanartst.blogspot.com se
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