April 9, 2010
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away”.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley
February 27, 2010
It is silly to think someone can be human without making promises to oneself; Of course I do, but do I keep them? Sometimes I do, other times not. Not always because of failure, but because of change. For example, at this moment I want to go to Iceland, in a week or so I will have another place in my sights and I will completely forget about Iceland. Would a promise preserve my lone desire to go to Iceland or hold me back from developing another ambition to go to Peru? Both and neither! If I wanted to go to Iceland that much I wouldn’t forget about it and if I really didn’t want to go after I promised myself I would, I would just break the promise, justifying that by saying things have changed. In other words I am a hedonist bastard with no consistency or morals. Or am I? Maybe I just say that as a cover for my contradictions. I never write anything. I am not a writer. I am afraid of writing. When I write, the product is me. If I met me I would HATE me. I am afraid of me. The product should not define me. I can relate to JD Salinger. I would have crawled into a hole if I were him too.
December 29, 2009
“I never could get over the fact that The Pixies formed, worked, and separated without America taking them to its heart or even recognizing their existence for the most part.” -David Bowie
December 20, 2009
One minute I don’t want to do anything, the next I want to do everything.
September 29, 2009
“Another glorious Sierra day in which one seems to be dissolved and absorbed and sent pulsing onward we know not where. Life seems neither long nor short, and we take no more heed to save time or make haste than to the trees and stars. This is true freedom, a good practical sort of immortality.”
August 6, 2009
June 10, 2009
If your socks are wet, you are wet.
April 26, 2009
April 1, 2009