6 years later

there was an ancient who spoke of magic. there exist many chairs, universally, all fitting into a form, a concept of what it means to be a chair. this works. all chairs fulfill the same functionality, allowing space  on long days to rest and think. this is a simple explanation of life. everything can be put into two groups: what it is and what it isn't.

there exist, still, the search for a point at which all the choices I made were wrong. this is not a chair. there is no room to sit, no space for thought. this is agony. after all completion there is still the thought of remorse, no...love. time moves forward only, not as matters of love.

the highest quality of matters of time are their ability to continue.
the highest quality of matters of love are their ability to continue.



(pause)

wait....i got the shits.

there exist this interesting power dichotomy in contemporary relationships. a man and a women, a girl and a boy, a provider and a providie, a giver and taker...right?

in a an effort to immortalize the value of what we have inserted is an action of over enforcement of portrayal, a "showing off" of how perfect our perfection is. in order to show others how worthy said togetherness is worth we perform a perfection more perfect than that of the most perfect. we lie.

we, if not obviously, is not to be understood to represent a collective decision, for the need for control influences the man/boy/provider/giver. the need to be envied exists from one who dare not wear green cardigans, for the stain burns more than concept of perfection itself. the taker needs not understand the ideal, just work harder to portray such perfection. how much perfection? enough to pay homage to the watching eyes.

the envious fall at the feet of perfection with eager hands and abs of hunger...let us shit on plates.