"Tomorrow's colors should hit the eye like waves of ventilation, containing
a freedom of permutation, but still be able to smooth the air and space around it."
Now I wrote that, and I like it, but I'm always struck by the dichotomy of
a statement that reads so elegantly but then comes off as stiff and almost clumsy when spoken
aloud. Some phrases live and die on paper. I've also found that listening to a book on tape can drastically
change the perceived quality of the work. I don't know, should we be actively searching for phrases, words,
and prose that can sit comfortably in your mouth and in your notebook? I think an easier path is to allow nature
to guide us, and as we hopefully become more fluent with describing and defining ourselves, the gap between
the mind, the tongue, and the pen will shrink, and we will arrive much closer to purity.
God, and the notion of a god, is seen as purity. People often mock this
purity as a deprival of fun and a limit to your mind/actions. Now, don't get me wrong, I believe it's absolutely
neccessary to corrupt your young mind in order to discover yourself, but as the years go on, I think a return to purity
is a greater enpowerment than remaining a loose cannon. Maybe identity is not important to some people,
they'd prefer to be forgotten. But at the moment I haven't met anyone who sincerely wished this.
Feel free to call me a "logistical dreamer" now.
The text printed on my mug @ work:
A: So, coffee beans are on strike.
B: They'd rather be human beans?
A: No, they want more perks.
B: Instant coffee is indeed unfair to beans.
A: These are real grounds for dispute.
