Dearest dearest,
It is about that time of night when the sound of a train eases even the most anxious babe. If we are to feel caught in supposed indecision, it is in the hours of the evening that one may fight their lives with a solo fist and fail to die a death of ten thousand words. There are ladies and men in top hats. There are small children eating late afternoon cakes in cafes. There are laptop computers decorating every which corner and strange men lurking in search of changed colors of iris. They may offer to by you a sandwich, and in doing so, expect you to reach your hand in their pants and give a little squeeze. Expectations. Grandiose expectations.
No. I reach my hand out to shake yours and it is not enough for your desires and so I shrug off my coldness with a brutal flip of the hair, catching a light before the subway departs, and now it is that one shall get to the point.
Of a pointless existence, we partake. Yet there are things which one wishes to discover and convey in the words that are written. Save yourself from another self absorbed blogger ranting and raving over the times and the times that were and the times that could be. Not another environmentalist, a cross cultural guru, a fanatical artist. There are things which need to be discussed here that plague the free time of the masses with moss like growth. If led into summation, the particulars will be failed. But to begin, one must, well, simply, begin. And if we are not to begin, we will always be meandering about the possible caves. Breeding impossibilities in the logical determination with which we are so in tune. It is said, "we" in the obvious fact that there is not another I, nor another you which exists. Maybe you grew up in a house that was cold, maybe you did not grow up in a house. Maybe you had to patch your clothes, or maybe mommy and daddy bought you a new party dress every which way the wind blows. These are all things that only slightly matter. If you exist, your crises, observations, expenditures all matter to the greatest extent.
The topics of this shop of poetics hold a broad range (think Montana). However, the parallels which we can draw are only as compact and well trodden as the city streets of New York. We start with particulars, tangibility, and extend into the universal, the philosophical. We compare the intrinsic and aesthetic values of moral convictions alongside that of a well made pair of footwear.
Let us first discuss a happening in the news today. A farmer in upstate New York woke to his usual farming obligations to, instead of completing his chores, decided to take a rifle and shoot all of his 59 cows in the brain. Then, he wrote a note which said to "not enter and call the authorities", after which he entered his kitchen, sat down on his (possibly) favorite chair and shot himself in the head. Apparently, the times were too hard for a man in a profession known for hard work and resilience. Take the extent of the following punctuation for a memorial:
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In other news, Haiti, Haiti Haiti, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, Obama is was whatever will be.
CHRIST.
More importantly:
my stockings have a run in them
THIS: http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/02/04/coyote-on-ice/
there is a wine made by Benedictine monks in Scotland (Buckfest tonic wine) that contains an exorbitant amount of caffeine and its bottle is many times out of 10 used in violent crimes in Scotland.
Mother Theresa had severe dry spells in her spirituality. (exposed in letters she had written, now in print)
So it is about being a woman in a time of capitalism and adagios. A time when we are expected to move at light altering speeds and that when a man holds the door or gives up his seat on the bus for a lady, the feminists release their armpit hair and cry out at overt displays of masculinity. Handing out their manifestos like creeps hand out candy. Let us come down from our high posts, come out of our self righteous lairs, our disciplined downward dogs, our diets of lettuce and water...we are in a recession. I believe it time to let ladies be ladies, to let men be men, to let men who want to be ladies be ladies and ladies who want to be men be men. Let there be no quell of desires. Keep spending your hard earned dollars so the economy does not die, work harder still. Do what you intend, question everything you see, explore every slight fancy, and whatever happens, it's not bad enough to kill all 59 of your cows.
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