12 Aug 2004

Strange static when we try and tune in on some of these detours in the mind. Sometimes logic goes awry, and we think misshapen thoughts, those which seem to slip into oblivion when we try to put them into words. Like you had something for a second…. Some are memories, but one can never quite tell if what your mind tells you of it is exaggerating, or twisting around, for reasons of a deeper psychology over which you have no control…. Sometimes you can wrap your mind all the way around it, but what do you have? Trying to explain it is to try and render a Dali in Legos — if you’re lucky. If not, it’s more like multicolored slime: formless, disturbingly inexplicable.

Now, I do not know how many great things have come to be in the search for something else. But I think it not fruitless to try and follow some of these digressions from the clear, these speculations of weird. Try to hold onto them, make them spit their meanings out to you, get them to commit on what they tentatively prophesy. While looking for a certain thing, best to be always ready to find a flower at the side of the road, whose beauty is in its strangeness, that you were not looking for at all. Perhaps it is a new thing. Perhaps it is old, more ancient of days than you can imagine. Or can you? Always are there sands to sift in there, dreams to discover.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:02 am

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