monkey rant, wrench, clink! it's stuck again
once upon a time and a very good time
it was there was a moocow coming down long the road and...
if it sounds familiar, congratulations! you just recognized joyce (james joyce, a portrait of the artist as a young man. penguin books, 1981 reprint. p.1) i always thought it would be great to start something quoting just that.
what is this blogging about? what is your profile?
for something that is supposed to be convinient, the great internet asks you so many personal questions that it would deserve a good slap on the face, 19th century victorian style.
not that i am so fond of that time and era anyways, too many unintended fun (usually with great costs) took place then. not to say we are any better.
i feel like a kid who want to take their shirt off at the changing room at the high school gym just a second longer than necessary, for the sake of, i am not sure, to be peeked upon or something.
if you look, im supposed to be offended.
if no one looks, im to feel neglected, isolated, separated, etc.
so which drum beat do you dance to?
well, as nitzsche once said, people who couldnt hear the musicians thought the dancers were crazy. and crazy or not, once you hear the musicians, you may as well pretend you are crazy and start to dance. or rant.
i thought i was doing alright, trying to keep a good public face, not to offend people, be polite, packaging it well! oh boy. then came the monkey wrench that jammed the great cogwheels.
i tried blogging (or egging, really) years ago and one day the great cyber deity decided that i shouldnt have one, so it deleted the account.
i was released.
freedom? may be.
and am back now,
writing absolute nonsensible things in the space that really does not and does exist.
now- if i do not let anyone know, does this blog exist?
does it communicate? does it exist by just it being it? what about relativism?
oh-oh. i smell trouble.
not necessarilly for me, nor that it's bad (nor good).
trouble, from word vulgar latin turbare, which could mean as neutral as agitate, is perhaps not a such a terrible word. i will keep smelling for trouble, and like a true monkey, i will continue to throw crap at things (going back to the 'egging'), and may be, i will have my own monkey colony where people will throw crap with me, or at least tolerate such behavior (it's only a cluster of reactions from stimuli, which is unavoidable unless i am , well, dead), or even be amused.
let's see where this goes.
so far i managed to quote some heavy guns of western civ such as joyce and nitzche to say absolutely nothing in particular.
impressive.
it was there was a moocow coming down long the road and...
if it sounds familiar, congratulations! you just recognized joyce (james joyce, a portrait of the artist as a young man. penguin books, 1981 reprint. p.1) i always thought it would be great to start something quoting just that.
what is this blogging about? what is your profile?
for something that is supposed to be convinient, the great internet asks you so many personal questions that it would deserve a good slap on the face, 19th century victorian style.
not that i am so fond of that time and era anyways, too many unintended fun (usually with great costs) took place then. not to say we are any better.
i feel like a kid who want to take their shirt off at the changing room at the high school gym just a second longer than necessary, for the sake of, i am not sure, to be peeked upon or something.
if you look, im supposed to be offended.
if no one looks, im to feel neglected, isolated, separated, etc.
so which drum beat do you dance to?
well, as nitzsche once said, people who couldnt hear the musicians thought the dancers were crazy. and crazy or not, once you hear the musicians, you may as well pretend you are crazy and start to dance. or rant.
i thought i was doing alright, trying to keep a good public face, not to offend people, be polite, packaging it well! oh boy. then came the monkey wrench that jammed the great cogwheels.
i tried blogging (or egging, really) years ago and one day the great cyber deity decided that i shouldnt have one, so it deleted the account.
i was released.
freedom? may be.
and am back now,
writing absolute nonsensible things in the space that really does not and does exist.
now- if i do not let anyone know, does this blog exist?
does it communicate? does it exist by just it being it? what about relativism?
oh-oh. i smell trouble.
not necessarilly for me, nor that it's bad (nor good).
trouble, from word vulgar latin turbare, which could mean as neutral as agitate, is perhaps not a such a terrible word. i will keep smelling for trouble, and like a true monkey, i will continue to throw crap at things (going back to the 'egging'), and may be, i will have my own monkey colony where people will throw crap with me, or at least tolerate such behavior (it's only a cluster of reactions from stimuli, which is unavoidable unless i am , well, dead), or even be amused.
let's see where this goes.
so far i managed to quote some heavy guns of western civ such as joyce and nitzche to say absolutely nothing in particular.
impressive.
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