There Is A Defense

And it is yellow and as such far more than a mereon twist.

Even if we attempt to abandon this planet when she thinks we´ve become boring there is a few givens in terms of destination. For one thing we will never go to that star to which the pyramid points. The earth spins even when you leave it. You may ask "what gave you the idea in the first place?". I may ask "how do you spell the word traitor in french".

The barges drift down the river, each carrying a dead mystic. These fleeting pieces of evidence gather and line up perfectly in the harbour, where a many artists come and go to pay a visit. In marvel they notice how similiar these wise men are, in such peace of movement with hidden faces secretely eating into the wood. The artists comfort passing strangers with consolotions like "oh, it is just a case of another set of dead mystics".

Why I should have to grease my brain with the remnants of a whale is beyond me.

I just had a vision of Lou Reed. He walked into some Manhattan office in an entirely sane fashion. On his desk lay all the drawings that happened to be those of architectural designs, mainly ships and vessels.

There are at least one thousand signs inside the belly of the whale.

Everything happens at the margin. To say your life is marginal wouldn´t surprise you but now you know.

Spin, spin, spin, that´s all you ever do. How about Still Life?
Don´t let me know when you´re bored.

You paint the view as you take a look across the archipelago of Porus in Greece. You do so with the perfect understanding that this is The View - but without even making one rational thought of it. You are educated enough to decode the fashions of quantum theory yet without making one single identification with their major business and their minor spins. You never made any confessions in your life. You notice that I become manic about certain preoccupations of noise but you never utter even the slightest affirmation about the treat.

You never get in touch with words like idolatry. Although you once pondered the meaning and significance of the name, the activity still passed you by, leaving no scar nor rendering any sensibility for the concept. Money never stopped you from doing anything or painting something in streaks of yellow.

Let´s get married.

Instructions in how to burn a bridge.

1. Recall that some architecture is meant to be destroyed.

2. At the point of realization pull a slight smile.

3. Light the torch.

4. Move on.

God looked at the soul and said: "Go fuck yourself".
And so it was, the soul became man and woman and followed the command.

The "new age" died even before it got started. It didn´t pass beneath out of decency but out of sheer stupor and inane designs.

An everlasting perspective does not help you keep anything in a proper light. It is without a doubt the least interesting, the very least relevant perspective to threaten both mice and men.

Lines. Rock. Art. Music. Well, there is no alternative for her, whereever she is.

Id rather be an acknowledged dead guy than an acknowledged spiritual master. In reality it is the same thing.

"You are perfect, just as you are."

That is for me to decide and for you to sleep on.

"People asume that if God were to talk directly with you, God would not sound like the fella next door".

I - and most of the senate - would assume perfect silence as a mandatory repose from such a character to parse the revealed Modus Operandi. Not that you are any sort of god anyway.

I am not Life exploring itself in every way imaginable. Nor are you or anybody else. Never forget that, flower child. Yet, float like a wave, sink like a car.

Nice of France...the town, the air, the floor of Europe where culture greets the sea on The High Road. Miss, it is called civilisation and it belongs to me as much as anybody else.

Now come to my arms.

I like the way the particles and atoms orbit each other. You can´t make them avoid the moves and your very loud chants never made much difference to the ratio.

At least this phenomena is worthy of the name Design.

When Socrates drank the poison conium, who were you? Were you the poison, the poison dealer or the conium itself? It´s always good to know your enemy.

And so Socrates drank the conium - but this time he survived.

This is not a blog. It is a war room.

My cup runneth over. I can´t stop it.

So you think you are in the clear, O psychedelic one? What happened to me is without cause. This is now your cause.

Once bitten, twice shy. Thrice bitten, all in.

If you are merely a thought of the absolute, I merely know where to shoot.

Even as I swim in the valley of champagne, I will not fear France

That is why it´s called work.

I appreciate the sentiments, it is all most kind of you - but none of this is required. You never built a finger in your life and yet it is working its thing very well, isn´t it? So dont take my comment in that sense as an expression of faith for I don´t have any, I usually never did. It is wonderful that atheists are so healthy - with working fingers.

If the order will self correct, it will. No prayers required, thank you.

Some say it is a river. Some say, not quite.