The greatest tragedy of my lifetime is the current situation. Some say it is just a part of it. That we must fullfil the book. But in the future when all this death and destruction is no longer being justified and allowed. We will look back and be like wtf. Sing the song of freedom. Sing the song of redemption. No one can do it but ourselves. Only we can free ourselves from this cycle.
The older you get the more you are aware of the structure on which civilization is based. Everything is entertainment and so no real change is created. Nothing is solved. The struggle is the way we get by. The way we get by. While trying to escape there are structures just waiting to pull you back in.
Alot of time is spent denying things that are real and promoting fake things that are off into the future that you never reach. Nothing compares to you. It is 100% marketing and promotion so that you just keep living in fear or constant amazement at nonsense. Look out for evil people playing the long game. So here we are now in the represent; #freepalestine
I may have mentioned that I hate funerals. The only reason I went to Kevin's funeral is because I knew him back in the day 30-ish years ago when ZLTOP came out. Maybe hate is a strong word but I would rather not attend my own funeral - just leave me to rot on the road - feel the sun on my face. Eitherway, I went, I sat in the back and I took some pictures. What is a man but a collection of vacation pictures printed on low quality paper. I also hate eulogies; I imagine there should be more to say about a man's life than which school or job they spent their time at. But what is man? We do what we can, when we can. We should never regret the things we survive.
I haven't written in how long? 3 months. I am surprised it is already April. The days are flowing together so quickly I cannot even understand where the time went. A cloud of doom is on the horizon - as it always is - but I just live each day as it comes along. But I really should be writing more so that hopefully people will have more content to read. There is no shortage of photography at least. Maybe I should buy a voice recorder to reduce the friction of pen to paper or, as in this case, keyboard to screen (you get what I mean). The thing with voice is I do tend to ramble on forever - forgive me if you have experienced it - but what must be said is often time itself. Time not confined to the keys on a piano.
I have had this tab open in my web browser for practically 8 months. I wanted to read the article but I kept putting it off for a later date. Well, this week I am trying to clear my to-do lists out because they are piling up higher than my head. The article turns out to be more social media trash. The usual amalgamation of words rearranged and sorted to appear qualitative but are really quantitative slop. I am glad I got that off my list. One day at a time, sweet Jesus, is all. It may be minor but it is done and my brain can feel some level of relief - at least thats done.
It is a new year. New in the sense that the numbers have changed but we and I are still moving ever forward. Alive, maybe not totally well, but we can still shift the particles so as to put pen to paper, order to the chaos. Or better yet create sound using the air in our lungs. I take a sip of water from the bottle on my desk and I appreciate its taste. I have probably done this a million times or approximately that amount. It doesn't matter. I must do it again.
We still have alot to do. Miracles to witness. Struggles to overcome. The question of whether any of it matters is still up in the air. In any case we must burn. We must do our projects. We must continue. We not merely to survive but to contribute to the sum of the things we accrue to give away. Eventually you will reach a point of completion or some kinda resolution.
I see some people trying to leave social media. On twitter people write "good bye" posts heading to bluesky - a website that looks and works exactly like twitter. Then return 2 months later saying that they are only doing it to keep the account alive, wondering why people are still tweeting. We welcome them back in solidarity, our fallen brother. We never left, just passing through, checking the numbers. But you feel a disdain, a subtle loathing, the dreck through the computer screen. It is as if they took the wrong bus up the road.