revolving around every spectre of nature is the heart of many usual souls. us in the ever cyclical chain of events that is our lives. struggling to place a coherent currency on seemingly logic-less events. as if being able to explain the phenomena with an ever expanding rhetoric of figures and half-percieved deeply-believed pseudo-half-facts would suddenly clear the fog.

until we recognise not what was truly false and purely fact from the wholly true and deceptively, that we question of ourselves our growth.

so many hurry about their work, as if it was the only thing cementing them to their existence, scurrying to place an order amongst and into the dis-orderliness and receding youth of their memories, as if placing an order onto the series of events would make it easier to understand their/ his / her / our lives and force an understanding that would not be gained from not placing them into this orderly timeline of what came before that and preceded that and happened half-way through this and eked it's way out of that. all that silly pre-occupations that our lives are crowded with and all the dumb hostilities that we crowd our space minds thoughts actions.

seeing the mad morning rush into the snake that is the trains, carrying people into the bowels of the city to feed the beast it's daily diet of numbers, bytes, blips and the whizz-bang electronic sounds all it's inhumanity emits while digesting all the lives, struggling to humanize the monster with their frenzied movements, utterly convinced of their immortality and superiority.

the beast must be tamed and made obedient but now we must be it's feed, growing it everyday into grotesque proportions until it's finally serves the serving or dies upon it's own obesity, like a drunkard that has forgotten how the world was unclouded by alcohol.

save the mornings of world, save all the rainbows and the calm after fierce storms at sea. let our children see all that we think beautiful let us not deliver them into a horrible blip-scape of the digital beasts and our own evolving futility.

laugh while the earth is merry.

-inspired by "revolutionary road", Richard Yates.


::::::greatness slips us by::::::