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Drone

Posted 25 March 2003, 5.50 am by Acheron

I often sit down and try to write something, inspired by some pseudo-civic sense of obligation, nostalgia, or maybe just boredom. So I sit and I stare blankly at the keys or at the screen. At such moments I am possessed by a sudden self-awareness. Even though I search in vain for "good writing ideas", I still manage to take a good look around.

My room is a cluttered mess. I'd estimate that there are at least 300 cds here, and certainly enough books to obscure the floor. Papers are thrown everywhere. Many people I know are possessed by the sudden urge to clean and tidy. I look around and I don't see a mess... just, say, that corner of cardboard I ripped off a box as a makeshift mouse pad (it didn't work at all), or a slim wedge of newsprint (an old crossword). Are these things out of place, or do they have no place? I didn't build this room. It's not even my home. I cannot claim this space as my own, nor any space for that matter.

I am a mess of mixed media. With so many odds and ends about, it becomes hard to focus. Anything written is somehow tied to the drone of the tap outside. The tap stops and I hear countless fans. Beneath it all, musing, is that subdued, elegant voice: the monophony of my thoughts. It shifts through the mentors: an old teacher, a long-forgotten friend...

I often sit down and try to write something - that is to say, I try to sort my clouded mess of opinions and focus. It rarely works. In these moments of clarity, though, I am taken by two questions: why is anyone still convinced that certainties remain? and why must every aspect of our common existence be named and shelved?

I suppose I walk many paths, or none at all, or the nameless few.

Shaggy
on 1 April 2003, 8.15 pm
Why must every aspect of our common existence be named and shelved? Because that way we can easily communicate with each other. Organization breeds control, control breeds connection. Once we are comfortable enough that we can control, we then have the confidence to communicate.

That and those damned Victorians... having to make everything universal, even that the legs of a piano cannot be shown, since showing legs of any sort is a way of seduction, and can lead down fallen paths.

These are also the people who would love to have a bug collection... you know, those displays with butterflies impaled on tiny tacks with their scientific name printed next to them?

We all walk many paths. What is true one day might not be true the next. What is a lie to one person is the ultimate truth of another's existence. This is where the difficulty lies:

How do we connect them all?


news-
on 4 August 2004, 7.21 am


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In 2018 I started painting again. This was one of a series of acrylic sketches I did to relearn techniques and revisit my skills from art college.


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Hmph

80s candy bars were pretty good

only because i traded it for a candy bar in the 80's.

lol we all know you don't have a soul ghoti

my soul for some carbs...

But of course!

Yo ! Does this work ?

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