So, I'm not the only little kid who secretly wished for tornados.nikisublimeJune 26 2004, 08:34:00 UTC
We'd never know beauty without horror standing right next to it.
So long as (hu)man reigns on earth, so shall this set of fucked dynamics.
Maybe dogs hear beautiful symphonies in their heads, and don't feel the need to reproduce them for others to buy buy buy and fawn over and approve of and validate their existence.
The only hope that is left (as a human, in my opinion) is the faith that the individual can make a difference. No matter what anybody says, I will always have faith that this is true, even if I'm a blind fool
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As ever, sir, doom and gloom could not wish for a more eloquent prophet than yourself...
But (in my admittedly small & idiosyncratic view) what all the beauty, horror, numbness, and use of the name Ouroborous come down to in the end is one question: what will YOU do? Will you lament the world's downfall until the very ground beneath your feet crumbles? Will you grab a pickaxe and help the Horsemen rip the motherfucker up, to delay the inevitable by joining it? Or will you put on sensible shoes and go stick your fingers in the dirt and shit and debris, trying to delay the inevitable by saving what little you can?
I have asked myself this question a number of times, and in the end, the only morally defensibly course of action I can see is to continue, tired flesh and weary soul notwithstanding, to do what little things I can to save this, my tiny corner of the universe, from the horror that lurks in every shadow and behind every human face. Anything else would be unacceptable.
mass society, wringing the planet to death -- the Individual seems like an anomaly more than ever -- even those "Individuals" that we worship on the covers of People magazine and E! aren't so much 'individuals' as branded commodities, reproduced and disseminated
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I feel like you managed to hit multiple nails--squarely on the head. I just saw this play at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival that I think you would really appreciate. This post reminded me of it somehow. Its called The Visit and its written by a fellow named Friedrich Durenmatt
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So long as (hu)man reigns on earth, so shall this set of fucked dynamics.
Maybe dogs hear beautiful symphonies in their heads, and don't feel the need to reproduce them for others to buy buy buy and fawn over and approve of and validate their existence.
The only hope that is left (as a human, in my opinion) is the faith that the individual can make a difference. No matter what anybody says, I will always have faith that this is true, even if I'm a blind fool ( ... )
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But (in my admittedly small & idiosyncratic view) what all the beauty, horror, numbness, and use of the name Ouroborous come down to in the end is one question: what will YOU do? Will you lament the world's downfall until the very ground beneath your feet crumbles? Will you grab a pickaxe and help the Horsemen rip the motherfucker up, to delay the inevitable by joining it? Or will you put on sensible shoes and go stick your fingers in the dirt and shit and debris, trying to delay the inevitable by saving what little you can?
I have asked myself this question a number of times, and in the end, the only morally defensibly course of action I can see is to continue, tired flesh and weary soul notwithstanding, to do what little things I can to save this, my tiny corner of the universe, from the horror that lurks in every shadow and behind every human face. Anything else would be unacceptable.
And on that note, I have garden work to do.
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mass society, wringing the planet to death -- the Individual seems like an anomaly more than ever -- even those "Individuals" that we worship on the covers of People magazine and E! aren't so much 'individuals' as branded commodities, reproduced and disseminated ( ... )
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