Wonder, the intensity of emotion undefined. A sense of imagination-fluid and dynamic beyond the collective ideal. Seeking such a small vibration, only resonating with the self. Small only as much as what is allowed. Easily contained in an illusion of thought and understanding. The projection of desires, a flotilla of minds in a missed communication of existence. Are we small? The ideal of small appears to be easy. But to what extent is being small also being lost to ourselves? Small boundaries, tiny bridges. Discontinuing the fluid dynamic of consciousness. Collective in evolving in a new fashion. Call to arms to sake of individuality found in a set.
Truly fighting against the self, projecting outwards what is slaughtered inside. A new fluid dynamic, flowing on just the same but on a different scale of existence. Small. The idea of self enlightenment has nothing to do with the self. It is a matter of reincarnation into acceptance of a collective whole.
Burroughs, Baudrillard, Paul Di Filippo, an Casares. Slivers into a dermograph beyond. Beyond because it has been put out of touch individually affecting the collective scale. Too large to understand just yet. Ease into understanding that is universal-but found individually, a round robin of education-providing that radical alterity if we are ready to listen.
Ultimately these words are lost, to you, to me, to the passerby. A sliver in time alluding to less and less as i type on.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Welcome
In books I rarely read forwards or introductions. Jumping right in is always the best-innocent to style of writing or key topics. Let them come up as you read along. Do as you wish with these lyrics. Enjoy as syllables bounce around as they will, I do my best with these words. May peace be with you on reading and living
1 comment:
So to be small, we are extreme, but what of the large?
It seems equally incomprehensible to look at the other extreme. A quark and other such nanoparticles can have the life span of less than a picosecond, but planets and stars can live for trillions of years. If one of us were to live for 100 years it wouldn't even be a fraction of that life span.
It is an illusion of the grand, exactly as how the small are incapable of realizing the full extent of what we perceive as normal. It's too big for us to interact with.
We are dwarfed by the mountain. And we live in the shadows, climbing its sides, just as the ants climb the tree. We can leave our marks and dig our holes, but the final result does little to matter. It's too big for us.
The same can be said of the interaction between individual and society. We each are but one mind against a collective. Resistance if futile, you shall be assimilated.
And yet, still we strive.
For individuality. For inclusion. For understanding, both to understand and to be understood.
To quote a favorite lyric of mine,
"The futile, the futile, it outweighs the beautiful." -Say Anything
Post a Comment