chasing beauty...

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The media

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I... ...hate  ...the media...  art's disclaimer...   visceral burning, and deep pain...  A crushing crutch...hate it all...burning... Word salad...in watermelon sugar...disguised in pain...and endless burning... Preach thief...hate hollywood, hatred for movies, hatred for radio. My hatred of all of it. The news. The attention capture. The subtle suggestion...not so subtle suggestions. One giant cult crawling embarrassment of cringe provoking emptiness. My tolerance for a bottomless empty has grown so low. Much lower than it ought to be to get along. To stay here. Hollywood. Hollow world.  Hate speech. It's tethered me and tied me in knots of cynical hatred and ache. A painful cynical ache. The disposition a symptom of my disappointment,  embarrassment with myself, impotent life, in contrast, in compliment with the endless horde of the 'other', the constant 'other' surrounding me in a kaleidoscope epitomizing sickly sweet plastic breath stench of vampir...
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Hey You...

Condensed information. We live in the most interesting time. Crest of a wave. I'm eating ice cream with brown sugar. Boebert is getting groped on X. I don't know what could be better. It was the best of times it was the worst of times. What will happen next... People need to get a lot smarter. I don't have much hope. I hope they have souls. Again I don't have much hope. Sixth sense...six degrees of...no it's Cloud Atlas. Which is fucking cool. Six different lifetimes and finally the hot Chinese girl wakes up to realize she's a fast food worker. The modern version of a slave and in the end all like her become dog food. The meaning of life. Why are these the first things I say? Set the stage? Things are moving fast. I'm getting old fast. I don't like it at all. I'm hoping to get back on my feet though. Stand up again. Maybe for the last time. Who knows. I was shocked to realize I would die. I never really understood that until I thought about it some m...
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Sight

Sight — You can only see out of one side of your head. Even at its best, human vision is narrow, partial, hemmed in by bone and nerve and angle. We walk through the world with blind spots we rarely notice, stitching together a sense of wholeness from fragments. The eyes give us a convincing illusion of completeness, but it is just that—an illusion. We see enough to function, not enough to know. Physically, sight is astonishingly limited. We perceive only a thin slice of the electromagnetic spectrum. Vast realities—infrared warmth, ultraviolet patterns, radio waves carrying entire civilizations of information—pass through us unnoticed. Even within what we can see, the brain edits aggressively. It fills gaps, smooths motion, stabilizes the world so it doesn’t blur and shake as our eyes dart constantly. What we call “seeing” is already interpretation, already story. And yet we speak of sight as if it were truth itself. I see what you mean. Now I see. Blind to the obvious. Vision becomes o...
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