ecleticism, dark rooms and boxing gloves
A new year for eleven days, and I havn't updated at all. How unfashionable!
It has been holiday time, and with no school work there is considerably less computer in my day.
So I suppose the the expectation would be a reflection on the past year and perhaps a resolution?
In reflection I notice the contempt I have for expectation, and there unfolds perhaps one the the biggest themes of the past couple of years.
Innovation
This is more, this is the reinvention of perception. I was never a fan of living in these boxes, and cardboard doesn't hold up well in the mudd. We do what we can to stay on the surface, until surviving fades to living, and regret fades to embrace. Every year has its tragedy and its ecstasy, but every now and then we have those moments that can make an era monolithic. I see magnificent irony in the way that the people who try to hurt us often become our most favorite teachers. Some of the best teachers I ever had were bad friends, visa cards and the most brilliant of deceptions. Three-thousand miles in circles around these same city sidewalks to learn who I am, and five-hundred more will create a thousand new picture frames to look through. We live backwards as much as we do forward. I love these broken boxes as much as the pictures they held. Failings held closest. Those pictures have come to illustrate my favorite views of all.
The scars from the times I should have died seem to be what makes me feel so alive these nights. Insomnia.
All of this leading to the fact that new and old... "I'm good to go for something golden"
We rang in the new year right, living like it's going out of style.
It has been holiday time, and with no school work there is considerably less computer in my day.
So I suppose the the expectation would be a reflection on the past year and perhaps a resolution?
In reflection I notice the contempt I have for expectation, and there unfolds perhaps one the the biggest themes of the past couple of years.
Innovation
This is more, this is the reinvention of perception. I was never a fan of living in these boxes, and cardboard doesn't hold up well in the mudd. We do what we can to stay on the surface, until surviving fades to living, and regret fades to embrace. Every year has its tragedy and its ecstasy, but every now and then we have those moments that can make an era monolithic. I see magnificent irony in the way that the people who try to hurt us often become our most favorite teachers. Some of the best teachers I ever had were bad friends, visa cards and the most brilliant of deceptions. Three-thousand miles in circles around these same city sidewalks to learn who I am, and five-hundred more will create a thousand new picture frames to look through. We live backwards as much as we do forward. I love these broken boxes as much as the pictures they held. Failings held closest. Those pictures have come to illustrate my favorite views of all.
The scars from the times I should have died seem to be what makes me feel so alive these nights. Insomnia.
All of this leading to the fact that new and old... "I'm good to go for something golden"
We rang in the new year right, living like it's going out of style.