e multis, plura
Don’t our lives have a strange aura hanging over? Not so long ago, today and yesterday life hadn’t happened just yet. There was always something better to come and we were yet to be fully realized as individuals and as a society. I envy those delusions, for now we live in an era of awaiting catastrophes. An acquaintance posed the idea that they’ve already happened and we are living in the aftermath. To my American mind, it seems unbelievable since we proselytize grand spectacles raised under the boot of Hollywood. But my exhausted Romantic mind, the one that claws at the great blue sky for universality, will sit with these thoughts and play. And play together with my Spectral mind that passes through masses of genres and fashions to search for truths.
What a time to be alive. Reality is too dire, too real. In a society consumed with catastrophe what other way to be then to bravely exercise your dreams.
This conversion from a food person to whatever the fuck it is I am aspiring to has been full of peaks and valleys. Sometimes life feels like climbing out of a deep dark cave. Other days and weeks are so full of fog the only thing that can lead me out of it is my sheer desire to go crashing into the waves. You do one thing, learn another thing, and practice practice practice. Afterwards after you body and mind have consumed and digested it all you stare at what comes out. Is it mine? Is it ours? What the fuck? It is my effort to take the world around us, reach beyond the real, and conjure what can be. I don’t care about the dangers for the possibilities are already all around us.
Turning a mundane scene about roasting a chicken draft after draft into something with cultural symbolism and beauty at one point broke me down into tears. And not because it is so bad, but through the processes I catch a glimpse of those dreams of a world where catastrophe is a meaningless word. The spirit is allowed its wings. Things are far from over, but to you who is reading this I hope you too bravely exercise your dreams. I can live in yours and you in mine, and as this old stale reality that forces itself upon us fades it is replaced with possibilities and love.
e multis, plura