people all need an out...

people all need space to exhale. a landfill canvas for their refused feelings.

the trouble comes when there is no room for it all.

no one pays any attention any more. perhaps it is due to a "short attention span," or perhaps it is because there is a finite capacity for collective attention. in any case, we have been filled near to capacity by the garbage and the beauty of our intentional and unintentional productions. our exhalations. exhortations. exhibitions.

we have all seen it before. and yet far from being satiated, our eyes are mouths hungry for more. we are jaded. less gets to us. so our eyes, green with envy for something that is no longer green, for this world that we have choked to death with our carbon dioxide breath, they look for that crack into the spectacular, the spectacle, which will quickly be faded over like a cataract over our lenses as the already seen.

(funny, how a cataract can be a river, and the obstruction to sight)

space, attention, patience, love. these are rarer and rarer commodities these days.

they say time is a scarcity, but that's not true. we have all the time in the world. and we have none of it. in any case, time is not the issue. it's us. it always has been, always will be. how we qualify ourselves with relation to time.

i am giving myself to the waste of time. to those things we devalue, but are the most valuable things in this world. give me space, pay attention, be patient with what will be stubborn and shy, love the unrecognized and unloveable. convention is for the convention goers. choose instead to allow what hasn't spoken to speak.

it is a fine line to walk, between gibberish and truth.

and there is real fear here...

on the edge of meaning, how do you know that you are still on the edge?