We were collectors, now we’re hoarders. We mince junk indiscriminately and leave it unmasked, scattered. On our graveyard shift we sit by a conveyor belt that has no beginning and no off switch. The only thing we’re worried about is that our melted brains don’t tip over.– Page read by CARLSON HATTON.
Posts tagged The Aged
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Is there pleasure in doing things without preparation? I am too heedful to the future to have any amount of estimable unconsciousness. The eternal cycles grind on. Hope turns arid. No one likes to be unprepared.– Page read by MARC ARRANAGA.
Solemn whispers determine nothing. they can’t bloom. They are a kind of preposterous metaphor. Everything conspires to harm you and there is nothing you can do against it. Everyone is miserable but just a few know it.
I am rusty, you are rusty, he is rusty. I attempt to plunge to nothingness. I dare you to find something more pathetic. How will you defend yourself? I love Tom, Jack, and Richard, but that doesn’t matter.
Don’t break cover too soon. Lie close. Disaster is too exact. It has all the reasons on its inside.
Being constantly worried means to think of oneself constantly, incapable to visualize a neutral path forward. In this fragile state you want to be considered invisible and you want people to be completely ignorant of your proceedings. Except that, deep in your mind, you really don’t want that, you want the opposite of that.
Glued to ourselves, we’re unable to leave the course imbedded in our own misery. Maybe that’s why we love things that are official, so we don’t have to think or take responsibilities. We especially love things that are extra official. It’s fun being evasive, isn’t it?
A few times in my life I’ve had the feeling of getting to a turning point, a specific moment when I knew my expectations would not be deceiving and so they didn’t have to be lowered. It’s happened perhaps only twice, maybe 3 times? I think that’s plenty.
It seems like today no one gives out patronage to other people without seeking recognition. The Good Samaritan doesn’t want to remain silent and anonymous anymore, but rather expects being in the spotlight, anticipating the applause, presuming the attention.
Special thanks to the Bouvier Beale family http://www.greygardenscollections.com.
Sometimes I think that the constant fight to amass things that weigh on us and subjugate us comes from the inability to live the present. What is that I insist on achieving? What happens if I don’t get there?
So many times I’ve resisted change to break a bad habit by projecting a negative outcome from it, even though I didn’t have any knowledge or experience to validate that projection. Why do we feel so comfortable with our own old ways? Why is it so hard to trust new ones?
It’s amazing how we can be so unconsciously insensitive sometimes, and say the most hurtful things while being completely unaware of our own stupidity. I think part of that is caused when you have the same kind of friends, that talk the same, think the same, and look the same. Care for someone different than you and you will be a better person.
Those uncertain and unpunctual moments that strike me unexpectedly, when I feel I don’t know whether I am desperate or not, when everything has a bitter taste. On those moments I feel my hands cold, and my dreams lost in the clouds. It takes a bit of time for me to let them go and recover.
I struggle sometimes with the idea of having principles and morals when there are so many crazy people in the world. Isn’t our lucidity responsible for their craziness?
My History teacher in High School was also my college counselor. She reproved me for thinking of a career in Fine Arts. She said it was a waste. My brother was already in college, and he encouraged me to take it. After much thought, I listened to my brother. I’m glad I did. But I also wanted to study architecture. I still do.