15 April 2020

 I'm stuck on what I want to write. I would like to avoid the pity traps that I've dug in the past. Railing at forces beyond my control probably only helps to elevate my blood pressure.

Reality. Perception. Delusion.

I can not assign to you your motivations for your behaviors, especially with generalized blanket assignations. I do not see your joys, your lifves, your struggles... I see at best a sliver of the windows through which you view the world.

"Always seeking an extreme end of the spectrum" In my defense, I claim it is because that's where many mathematicians first test their hypotheses. I want to break the rules before I'll backtrack to see where they work.

Behind me are Escher's "Drawing Hands" and Dali's "Narcissus"... and an original piece by my step-sister. In front of me are two more bits by Escher. Yet, I think I miss Dali's "Persistence of Memory" the most - what with the ants and melting watches and the fluidity of time....

I try to tell the world, how our lives are so woven up with stories. Fairy Tales with everyone living a happy ending - or is that Broadway musicals? The boogeymen in the closet and the urban legends, scaring us straight. All the wisdom of the ages, told and retold - perhaps Scherezade had a 1001 versions of the same story, all seeking to praise and soothe her murderous sultan. Then there's the strands of "Don't take no for an answer" and how that unfortunately feeds into rape culute - or at least it bolsters the selfish, self-centered "My way or the highway" types of sentiments?

See? I can claim not to know where you're coming from.... but, used to be, we were all reading from similar scripts. What the preacher preached from the pulpit, how the radio sang the sun to sleep.... We are awash in a sea of messages and morals, and we cling desperately to the driftwood that has kept us afloat. Then again, some would just let go and sink deep into the depths of a 1001 currents, to wash our faces away with the mask of a new day.

So much of this is just flimsy opinion. I do not write an academic paper. I would hope I could spark a forest fire, burning through so many meta-cultural pieces; and leaving a titantium sword to cut through the ashes... (pfft. trying for metaphor, methinks)

So, that's where this piece went - spinning my wheels until my restless mind got spent. Again, a sliver of windows - this is not the length and breadth of all I'd like to say. Perhaps it just came out first...