Intimacy

I find that I'm heartbroken every time I perform an artistic piece I've been toiling with, especially a solo piece, because it means the death of it. I love them all intimately and with every new chance to perform, I find that, from experience, I can tell when I've fallen in love with it. If the exhibition occurs before I've gotten the chance to fall in love, then there is something amiss and I feel unfulfilled and unimmortal. When I get to the point at which I can say I am in love with you, dance! then I am ready to share it with the world, because I believe in what I am sharing. I'm giving the world a piece of myself, I'm sharing true love, I've transcended myself, and hopefully I'm awakening the desire for true love in others. Anything less, is brown bananas.


Emotional attachments give me depth. Intimacy warms my body.

As it turns out, all of those worldy anecdotes and aphorisms are true, but the people who say them usually have no clue what they mean and the people who know they're true feel strange vocalizing them because they are truly doing them no justice.

"If I've learned anything in my 21-or-so years, it's that 'singer-songwriter's can neither sing nor write a song, and that, by the same token, 'workout-buffs' are never fit. 'Workaholics' are usually lazy/unproductive, and 'creative writing' is often plagiarised."  -CM

helium

Flabbergasted. This usually doesn’t happen until sometime after 1 o’clock, but I guess being surrounded by so many balloons is sufficient enough to incite such an emotional state. In a world of so many lost causes, how could there be so much helium? I know, I know, this too shall pass, but until then, I’ll continue to take my time in the shower. Depending on which way I turn the knob, it’s hot on a cold winter’s day and cool on a warm summer’s day. Unless by some fluke chance it’s a warm winter’s day in which case I’d take a bath. As luck may have it, I am not German. But if I were, I’d probably still be flabbergasted since I imagine German folk are not immune to such provocations of the mind, although by the intonations of their language you might think otherwise. Sure, Wir dreschen leeres Stro, but I’d still like to consume my wienerschnitzel with relative haste. Everything is everything, that’s what I keep telling myself. Ultimately, it’s meaningless, but also and ultimately meaningful, and if they accepted aphorisms at insane asylums I would write a hearty letter of recommendation on its behalf. Give it a 7 on the Altman Self-Rating Mania Scale and diagnose it as an outlier, the everpresent goal being to normalize the spectrum of human expressions, when all I want is my MTV. And maybe a small veggie burger. Accordingly, it’s out of our hands and up to the government to decide what to do here. That’s usually a good answer to every question and a great way to evade responsibility, second only to hiding in the closet and plugging your ears. Unless you telephone capitalism and have the two go at it on some remote farm in Nebraska. Corn has been known to be an honest witness, except in March. Farming, on the other hand, a completely dishonest trade, has been known to produce crops. It is in this setting that Uncle Sam meets the Invisible Hand. My money’s on Apple. And still, how is it that there is so much helium? 

everything is everything