On decisions, and how to make them…
It is a foregone conclusion, with a title like that. This post will see updates. Who cares? What’s with the ‘authenticity’ of this blog medium if it doesn’t reflect the up to date opinions of its artist?
Or is that too presumptious a noun?
Did I have to be here? Writing this, I mean. What other words were there, spread across this evening? Or last night, for that matter.
Missing themselves. In the original Haarlem. As an ass hole. Oops.
Expressing myself for what I am is the “message” of this blog jontski, isn’t it?
Or is it the ‘massage’? A typo producing an art book I haphazardly had purchased in Minneapolis. Pure McCluhan, to take a typo and roll with it. [link to the story of it happening]. It must have been produced very efficiently to sell for $10.
Then again, this is the same thing. Taking an opportunity and blindly following.
This reasoning, pure and simple, keeps hate from my heart.
We are all this.
Before becoming too poetic, I remember must not occlude myself. This blog had a title, didn’t it?
Somehow, I didn’t realize how bittersweet listening to themselve’s crownsdown would become upon missing their show in Haarlem on Sunday night. Barring my excellent excuse of class the next day at 9:15, there is no immediate justification for such an action. Looking at the just pasted URI, I notice that Anticon is inching quite close to a one hundredth release. Meanwhile, I’ve subscribed at least 8 times to their mailing list and still managed to miss themselves in Portland. And Seattle.
Where was the email saying “WE ARE ON TOUR MOTHERFUCKERS”.
I’ve written it in plain english to spell out how easy it is to be clear with a simple fact.
Never mind that. I caught it this time. And let it evaporate. Mindlesss escapism over extreme crackin’ism? That’s a philosophy I partially derive from the man Iron Will, may he be doing the Bay just right, right now. The crackin’ism, I mean. How appropriate that it’s my half of the philosophy that destroys it? Anyway, it’s keeping it real that brought me to that point of reasoning, and apparently led me here. But what does it ultimately mean?
Fuck it. It’s now and not the past. Or the future, for that matter. The only rational response at this point is to accept that. That day the world was cloudy, as if to reflect the fact that I didn’t know what to do.
Right, this blog had a title tag, in it’s infancy of our interaction. Because you and I know that this is a measly interface for the Real that is Behind, I’m going to continue to let that slide. It’s time to simplify phrasings, justify word actions, word deeds, and word nuptials. (Fuck a “contract”). Do this thing right and we might have a zone worthy of our own reflections. In the end, it’s all what you put into yourself. The time you die, the way you feel, your every interaction. I made a point of learning to freestyle for the simple fact that I wanted a streamlined mechanism for wreaking havoc with words. The forced focus of an open mind unrolling rhymes with full spine untwined and inescapable like the apes with no hair beware a bear may have stared but most humans would have glared. fierce for a fight? if that’s your light i shutter you to enhance the insight that keeps it tight. There once was an ethics, right? Now mostly its bullshit, sold out and force fed to the masses with money’s might.
But was that the plan all along? No, in another world I never wrote this one. But I’m here now, and that’s the vegetable delight of it. That I’m here, in spite of it. All odds against me cause I stacked the deck for this very reason.
