I’ve been given a length of rope. I can tie it in a knot, tie it in a noose. Or be wise and put it to good use.
We can thank Aristotle for the title. That the Earth was considered the centre of the Universe for more than fifteen hundred years longer than it otherwise should have been can also be attributed to Aristotle. He had so many powerful ideas. His ‘errors’ carried as much weight. Ah well, where would we be now if only Aristarchus of Samos wasn’t in the shadow of Aristotle?
Green Onions in the background. Maybe I’ll Take Five next. Groovin’. My desk is amuck, a mess. My mind too. Amuck, I mean. Ha ha ha. Devil Inside. Random shuffle. A cluster of half empty Coke cans, Oh Henry wrapper, empty pack of smokes, pizza coupons, digital copy codes, hair bands, an empty Toy Story dvd case…what the fuck is Undercover Brother doing here?! Buried under some empty zip-locks and an iPhone. Only 3G. I can’t see the surface. Suffocating.
There may actually be a little Oh Henry left in that wrapper. Is it bad if I eat it?! It’s only from last night. Not even twenty-four hours ago.
French Kiss. Trip into the deep well of your lover’s chest. Dance to the heart beat. Synthesize your nerves. Symphonic frenzy. Let your lust wander.
To perceive is to suffer. Be free.
I build walls with words. I hurl ideas in your direction. Big bricks to keep you out. To ward away your affection.
When I was a kid, I fell in love with old time radio. It’s one of the few rituals that survived through to now. Never before has access to old time radio shows been more open. As a kid, I had to wait until 11pm every Sunday night for Theatre of the Mind – where two shows would be aired back-to-back. Otherwise, I had to go to the public library and borrow cassette tapes of old time radio.
Now – there’s podcasts, audio streams, XM radio – plus subscription sites (the best would be RU Sitting Comfortably or RUSC).
There’s an episode of Suspense, titled August Heat. It’s a peculiarly chilling episode. An artist is overcome by the feverish heat of an angry August day and compulsively sketches a picture. He isn’t lucid until he nearly completes the picture. It’s of a strange man whom he’s never seen before. Oddly, the artist did not draw one of the man’s hands. It appears as though it would’ve been holding something, but the artist could never know because the ‘inspiration’ is gone.
Later that day, the artist is out for a stroll. He comes across a stone carver working in his shop. Something draws the artist into the stone cutter’s shop…he’s not certain what. The stone cutter is working on a display piece for his store front. This piece happens to be a gravestone.
“How do you pick a name?” asks the artist.
“I just make a name, birth and death up. See.”
The stone cutter turns the gravestone around – it is carved with the artist’s name and birth date. The date of death….is today.
And it goes from there.
Well, today is one of those days. 40 degrees Celsius outside. Humid as hell (if the fires of hell allow for humidity!!). I am losing my mind. Everyone around me is losing theirs too. All I ask – where’s the snow? Bring on the snow.