Be Careful What You Sift...
anonymous
September 8 2004, 04:50:24 UTC
"I am poor, soon to be evicted, unemployed, and unhappy, I am probably an artist."
I read those words, and then I cried. And then I continued crying for a long time after that. It so perfectly describes the prison that is my existance. I probably am an artist, in the sense that I was born was the ability to create some shred of beauty during this lifetime. Alas, I have failed so utterly, that I DO NOT EVEN KNOW if I am an artist! There is no way to know if I have produced no art but am capable of doing so, or if I never had a chance in the first place. In the end, does it really matter? If I never create any art, does that not prove that in the only way that matters, I was never capable of doing so?
Be careful what you sift through. The twisted, black pain of my soul cuts like a shard of obsidian. Others also feel the same (especially around university campuses in western Europe). To become a Higher Ape it is not enough merely to have hands that can grasp branches as you climb trees. They must also be able to carefully pick the dark, brooding volcanic glass out of the paradigms you are sifting through. If you are willing to risk being cut, then perhaps you will evolve into something higher...
And also remember that all people are really fucking boring most of the time. But for some reason exhaustion makes them creative. Or keeps them from noticing that they aren't making any sense.
Your Loyal Servant, Jeff, Grand Admiral of Tualatin, Chancellor of the Exchequer, &ct.
I read those words, and then I cried. And then I continued crying for a long time after that. It so perfectly describes the prison that is my existance. I probably am an artist, in the sense that I was born was the ability to create some shred of beauty during this lifetime. Alas, I have failed so utterly, that I DO NOT EVEN KNOW if I am an artist! There is no way to know if I have produced no art but am capable of doing so, or if I never had a chance in the first place. In the end, does it really matter? If I never create any art, does that not prove that in the only way that matters, I was never capable of doing so?
Be careful what you sift through. The twisted, black pain of my soul cuts like a shard of obsidian. Others also feel the same (especially around university campuses in western Europe). To become a Higher Ape it is not enough merely to have hands that can grasp branches as you climb trees. They must also be able to carefully pick the dark, brooding volcanic glass out of the paradigms you are sifting through. If you are willing to risk being cut, then perhaps you will evolve into something higher...
And also remember that all people are really fucking boring most of the time. But for some reason exhaustion makes them creative. Or keeps them from noticing that they aren't making any sense.
Your Loyal Servant,
Jeff,
Grand Admiral of Tualatin, Chancellor of the Exchequer, &ct.
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