Funnily enough I don’t have any ideas for today. Not that I don’t have any, but nothing that excites me or wants me to post. So I’ll post a previous entry I entitled. Forgive the cheesy, expected “journal”-esque style of this blog. As David Foster Wallace would put it, it is “crude”, but it is me and I assure you that it will morph outside of those boundaries. It just needs time to hatch.
So here is today’s first entry entitled “Untenable”. It is a good prologue to the rest of my blog; a trimming of the first branch into the jungle of American illusion and lies. So enjoy. Or not. But it is real. And it CAN help you if you turn your ears up towards me above the flood of the noise.
I’m a product of this horrendous 90’s American gen. We are the lazy, god-given right of achievement where the stress and boil of labor evades us while we curl our backs to transcendence. It is beneath us, it is behind us and it is out of sight because only the stills of the past with its cave-coal working serviles would bow to the snake and strain of time-bitten ascension. No, we are born into this soak of placement, being as we should be, going as we make the world to go. We are waiting for time to meet our fate, that fate either churning into our appointment or sorely out-grained from some jagged mishap at the ugly curve of the universe.
But I see it now. And I’m happier to see it, than to be without eyes living it.