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I keep on dying again and again. My veins collapse, opening like the small fists of sleeping children. Memory of old tombs, rotting flesh and worms do not convince me against the challenge.
Years and cold defeat live deep in lines along my face. They dull my eyes, yet I keep on dying, because I love to live.
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General Blog Category: Culture and Arts
Current Mood: creative
Added on: 08/03/08 10:58
Comments (7)
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In our decade, the romantic tide is out, and the constructivist, materialist, and formalist tides are in. One would rather find and assemble than mine or dredge up.
Originality in the old sense of a “soul-making” activity is replaced by invention, constraint, and gamesmanship. We are not at play in the fields of the universe, but the static, self-interrupting planes of the internet.
In Heidegger’s terminology of facticity overwhelming poesis, this is a bad thing.
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Current Mood: curious
Added on: 06/06/08 15:17
Comments (4)
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The difficulty to think at the end of day,
When the shapeless shadow covers the sun,
And nothing is left except light on your fur.
There was the cat slopping its milk all day,
Fat cat, red tongue, green mind, white milk,
And June the most peaceful month.
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General Blog Category: Culture and Arts
Current Mood: artistic
Added on: 06/06/08 15:06
Comments (3)
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