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16 February 2007

damn the eyes of the curious

Damn the eyes of the curious

Searching with clandestine affect

As simple changes wield unexpected results

Adding the hint of unspoken lust to a stolen glance

Choose the retrograde, the rough path

Undauntedly challenging each crag and defile,

Each moment a tangle of the past woven

Into the roiling chaos of next moment's wakening

Steering confidently into the future

All the while grasping for a rain soaked pearl

Peace must be made, the three conjoined

And what emerges; bright gleam on humanity;

mudscraping whore; cannot be foretold

ultima ratio regum. X

interlude - project inferno - "on purpose"

As far as I can put things together, there is no predestined fate, no red thread that you've been dragging behind you all along. Far from unintentionally leading to a way out, to some sort of salvation, this string can become tangled along the way, and get you in far worse trouble than you would be without it.
The damn thing about a sense of purpose is that it is unequally distributed among us. Some possess of it from the start. They inhale it with their first breath. But for some, it must be learned, earned. And in a way, I'm happier for knowing that I must earn it, that it will not be vomited into my lap. Because otherwise, the confidence and drive would be neither so savory, nor so elusive.
Life in this foul, fast world however conveys a false sense of purpose. So easy is it to set your standards to that which you can achieve. But the unattainable must be targeted, must be the apple of your eye. If you reach it, and have got what you desired, and are happy with that, well done and many proud slaps on the back. But at times along the way, something else pops up, and looks more interesting, perhaps even easier. So follow that path, see where it goes, find that trough of muddy gold.
Many troughs lead off of the main way. They promise many things, many nice things that you might very well be happy with. But those paths tend to disappoint.
What happened to the dusty, gritty days of this country's youth? When you had to hammer/shoot/drive your way to the heart of the American dream, your own worst enemy? I say those times haven't gone. The dusty, gritty days are upon us, and you'd best specialize in something, dentistry, hogfarming, CNET IT solutions, whatever. No one wants a jack of all trades. They want someone with a clear set of characteristics that they can understand. but don't give them that luxury. keep them on their toes. send one volley after another of predictable response, then dive off into the utterly insane. be sure to come back, though, quick, so they're not sure if they're going batshit, or if you are.

ulrare. JP