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Perfecting the Art of Falling Apart

Posted by kid_A on April 5, 2002, at 14:19:50


We've got heads on sticks, and we've got ventriloquists. I don't really know what that means, I didn't write it so I don't know where to begin. Just like my name, I stole it from somewhere else, a similar store in fact, the man at the counter was nodding off and I slipped it in my pocket just like you... What I can't make, I steal, What I can't make I steal...

Why do rich boys like to steal? I don't know that either, that comes from something else that I didn't write... It's sort of paraphrasing, and It's a great and amazing asumption that you are still reading this post, but I'll endevor to continute as I do...

I can't offer you anything that you haven't allready got, I don't have a plan for you, I don't have a path, I can't offer you salvation if you'll just listen to me preach, I can't offer you a God, as if a God might even help, as if the inflated false belief in a phantom limb might allow one to do cartwheels. I think Lenin, thats Vladimir, not John, har har har, said that religion was the opium of the people, but Anne Sexton, aptly pointed out in quotation that if religion were a dream, then it was a dream worth dreaming... I think I believe a little of both, and Opium is excelent for dreaming, but I dream all the time, super-lucid dreams I can only blame on this white man's medicine they have me on.

Why can't I just come out and say I'm sad, why can't I ask a question that someone can answer, what Is at the end of the tunnel where light lies in waiting? Maybe because, can I start a sentence like that? Perhaps, because there are no answers, perhaps that is why I can't seem to pose a reasonable question.

Like Gauguin I think I'm simply asking the questions, "Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?"

But do these even have simple answers? Can I even dare to ask these questions? Maybe I'm just waiting for the evolutionary level above human, maybe I'm just waiting with Do and Ti for Hale-Bopp.

Tell me anything, tell me I haven't gone insane. Tell me something beautiful, manic, obsessed, unsure. Tell me something that would make Michelangelo blush... Tell me secrets that could be lies, Tell me anything that you will.

And with that, I say to you good day, may someone kiss your eyes and bless you in this life, and the next, if we get that far, and let all angels and daemons shake hands and sit down for a cup of tea in a garden that just may not exist except in the eyes of love.

~~~

"Well, you get the idea, what more can I say? I'm off to read the obituary, like I do every day. If my names not there, I'll once again start - Perfecting the art of falling apart."


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poster:kid_A thread:21500
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20020403/msgs/21500.html