Reality? I don’t know what that is. I know only my reality. It’s based on pleasure. My pleasure. I see only that which has some kind of benefit. To me. I guess you could say it’s an illusion. So personal. But it’s all I know. True reality? Outside of Me? I wish. I’d truly like to see it.
Beginning of a new world. Maybe this is it. At first you don’t notice it; like when a woman becomes pregnant. Little by little the development proceeds, little by little you start to take notice of it, you start to change. To think different, feel different, want different.
This may sound crazy, but this world is truly beautiful. I mean its purpose. Which is obviously its r e v e r s a l. Truth is, I cannot imagine a lower, more corrupt place than this. It spells D i s c o n n e c t i o n. Its name should be “Antigone”. Its beauty? Its purpose being its own opposite. Human hatred reversed. So far so bad. Good.
Improvement rather than sustainability. Definitely. We’ve definitely been regressing for quite a while now. Sustain what? Stuff needs to change. Internally, not externally. I mean people, humanity. In short, we. Me, to start with. From inside out, and not the other way.
When was the last time you were inspired by something? Could it really be that the world, as cold as it may be, ran out of inspiration? The “world” — it’s kind of a vague expression, but let’s say it’s like a filter. It would be inspiring to apply a new such filter — a warmer one.
Stupid race, rat race, chicken race, trying to run ahead just to find you’re sinking like a rock, as is the world in front of your eyes, no orientation, rock bottom, are you the chicken or the egg, race still on, but off since long, we’re all one chicken, all one egg.
I heard that you can actually be happy from having a lack, on the condition that it’s the right lack, an important one, the lack of a human rather than an animal. Throw me a bone and my tail will wag. But on top: human aspiration, connection.
Scratching at the surface, trying to patch things up with cute little heart shaped patches, smiles, oh, well, everything will be fine, but deep down you know it’s a charade — we’re long past due, forget about the smiles for a second, rip the damn “heart” out, give way to depth, darkness, let stuff grow.
