(no subject)
I have this feeling that the things we do, we do because we want to, and everything else is secondary. We distance ourselves from other people in order to achieve distance, and the choice of diversion is tailored to deliver to us the mental state into which we find ourselves inclined to settle at the moment. Would i invite my mom to stay awake for another hour reading if not to have company as i type, and i would i opt to make negligible progress on my abstract over chatting more animatedly with her about her book if not to maintain a comfortable medium? And would i risk damage and waste a neighbor's loan to twice run vinegar through a drip ground-clogged espresso machine and thrice water to wash out the smell, when i could conveniently have taken it to any of several coffee shops i frequent for advice, if not to acquiesce to a fleeting bout of curiosity?
Would it be more amazing for us to be so subordinate to our whims, or by conscious choice for us to achieve such great control over them?
I think purpose might do well to suffer the Book of Antecedents' paradoxysis of art.
Would it be more amazing for us to be so subordinate to our whims, or by conscious choice for us to achieve such great control over them?
I think purpose might do well to suffer the Book of Antecedents' paradoxysis of art.