Ahh, Alliteration!!! Ain't she a sight for Sorites? In other words, Howdy, my lovelysexybeautifuls!
It's been awhile since I've tapped out a long, meaty posting for you all on this here site.
I still can't decide if this was, um, inherently intentional? I cannot explain, but I am sure it was not necessarily willful, as far as I can readily discern.
Uhh...ok, let's see...
Alright, to whip a tired horse...(There's no elegant way 'round this), well,
"You know that saying, 'If you can't say anything nice.....?'"
Well, I generally try to take those words of caution to heart in a public 'airing', I guess one could say.
But, alas, m'dears, it has become increasingly apparent to me that if I wait for something remarkably 'nice', well, these letters on the screen would be solely within the confines of silent reserve.
In the grand scheme of things, I'm a wee chick-a-dee in my dutty thirties, sure, but I've lived a big ole life if you ask most who are well-acquainted with the likes of me.
I've seen historical monuments and documents the world over, revered works of art in sacred institutions, and precious, priceless soil near and far.
I've also seen, heard, and felt the likes of which my mind is woefully unwilling to rescue itself from, imprinted in sporadic flashbacks, recalls (and recoilings).
And, well, normally, I can do a decent enough job in placing my own lot in life in the grand scheme of things and see how...fortunate? 'spared'? 'lucky'? uhh, etc, what-have-you, that I am and have been up until the absurdity of the specious present.
O.K. Damn, wondrously vague...esoteric....OK...
My point is, I believe, that, well, sometimes my uncanny ability to find some-darn-thing nice and lovely to expound upon is.....like, shunted...blighted...or, well, just not gonna be possible every now and again.
Some recent current events in news media have made me feel too damn kindred...highlighting and validating the bitter truths I had worked so hard to 'remember to forget'.
As if I'm right up in that television screen, right there in that broadcast and rebroadcast, play and instant replay....but not as a re-seeing at all...
No, I fall forward, thrown amidst a conglomerate of pixels held steadfast within the confines of that first captured series of images and sounds, for that moment in time, dishing out its final hue.
I am unable to un-see these once-lived experiences, precisely because none of these events are new.
I cannot say or think, "Damn, that sucks!", "Damn, that's completely wrong, foul, and unconscionable," and just...carry on...Because none of these feelings are new.
Of fucking-course it's wrong when being 'sought after' just might mean a day tailor-made for you, captured and reduplicated, retold and digitized, removed from your own pre-view;
when your last words are precluded and weighed down by rapidly diminishing airspace;
when your call to attest is overwritten, out-voiced, pre-fabricated and fucked by people who are anything but natural;
when you're hobbled and amassed by those who bow down to mechanical animals who exist to sustain your pre-emptive silhouette.
Sometimes, every now and then, my inability to say something nice is perhaps the strongest reminder that:
For now, the choice to remain silent is the only living proof that I still have the ability to speak.
*Images To Come
P.S.: Oh,, and Happy Birthday, Shakespeare! ;)
Follow The Grind