None of it is really ours anyway, hence it behooves to dispense with the expectation to write on non greasy paper, that riveting words be produced daily, that the coffee arrive steaming hot and bitter, that the falafel stand by the cathedral operate per schedule, that the room come with a window, lack any window, or lead to any superposition of the two opposing window states, that all the fine art, photographs, music, poetry, prose, or any otherwise accumulated intellectual property or collectibles be there tomorrow, catalogued, categorized, conveniently accessible, or that all this digital byproduct not be shortly wiped clean. Dispense with the order, the lack of order, the profiles, the commendations, the commonality with other beings, the stage, the theatrics, the levity, the energy, the discipline to avoid excess and the subsequent resentfulness. Don’t expect that anything respect, violate, or bear any relation to the Western school of aesthetic, or that the vegan restaurant serve much beyond the malevolent carbohydrate, the root of all vice (as far as I’m concerned). Dispense and detach. What’s the worse that could happen?
Questions, comments? Connect.