I'm going to let music seep into my spinning skin, tingling like my toes do in the face--no, eyes--of excitement and sheer terror. Is terror ever sheer? I think it's dark and tangible, slipping wooden coils (because fear can create such a device) over the bitter throat of any sort of harsh word. In the end, evil in the guise of ignorance and hate, jumps off the block that looks just like the tops of heads belonging to a million of shapely (and not so shapely) blonds (I'm not stupid, they cry). Not shapely? How can they have blond hair while lacking any sort of discernible shape? Maybe they're the dark matter of the universe, screaming loudly that YES THEY EXIST. But who doesn't exist? You can't answer that, because--well, try naming someone who has never been born. Orphan Annie? Yes, but she was born into the imagination of Harold Gray who probably stole her from some other mind or some other woven basket. Isn't the world woven (just look at the concept of wormholes), and every new thought just a disgustingly lovable regurgitation of past ideas?
I'd like to continue this. And dammit, why didn't I do that case study for PR Principles instead of blog random words that actually make (much more) sense to me?
No comments:
Post a Comment