Pictures I made since I last spoke to you all:
Contiguous Vagueness
Mentally Illegible
Each Entropic Dream
Gyroscope Demeaned
(Forgive my unoriginality.)
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Is it selfish to not care about other people at all, but only because you think you are dreaming reality and they don't even exist?
I mean, I suspect it is possible that reality is real, and that those people I hear about in the news who are suffering are real. But I also suspect that I am just dreaming, and that those people who are suffering don't even exist.
On the off-chance that this is real, then maybe I should be concerned for those who suffer.
But if this is an illusion -- and I highly suspect that it is -- then all that really matters is if I myself suffer. Who cares about some illusionary people?
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On the above note, let me go over the next poll question: Simply: Do you think that your existence is more likely to be mostly real or completely an illusion?
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Speaking of polls, let me go over the results of my last poll. One person picked red. One person picked green. Three people picked bluish green. And two people picked reddish purple. But about those results... When I first voted for reddish purple, it marked my vote as bluish green. I know for a fact that two people at least voted for bluish green. And I was able to vote for reddish purple twice. So what I suspect are the REAL numbers are: One for red; one for green, two for bluish green; and one for reddish purple, which is my vote.
In any case, bluish green probably wins.
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I really really don't want to have children. I hate humanity so much, and why would I want to be the father of yet more assholes?
And since I don't want to get a vasectomy (ooo, gross!), I am glad I can resist my urges to have sex.
I am really lucky about being able to resist my sexual urges, indeed. Because some people can't: Like those men who kidnap young women, rape them, kill them, then cannibalize them. Yeah, I'm glad.
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One last thing: The worst for last. A poem! (Written today.)
A Congruent Curl
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A congruent curl, a translucent swirl; tilting,
Bulging, spinning, propped in its balance; quite
A gyroscope encircled by metaphorical loops, by
Glass made from mud... Oh, it flatly protrudes
And then exists. Its meaning is in its
Meandering. And its meaninglessness is in the
Tantrums of truth's ghosts. Ah, it flies but does
Not flutter. And it floats, but it does not
Flow or sip the fluids of this graceful drink.
It demeans its dimensions, the angles drawn by
Those conclusions of everything. And it turns,
Yet it interpolates its mind as a bulb; and it
Intersects its focus with its fulcrum upon
The one center of intermediacy. Oh, and so
The form levitates curvaceously. But it thinks
Of shape. It thinks of mathematics otherwise
Real, otherwise ascending and geometric and
Vertical within the diagonality of diagonals
Becoming torqued, becoming a congruent curl
Oblately winding, obviously wispy,
Offensively and oddly wrought by the pleasures
Of breath and grandiosity.
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Leroy
1 comment:
Always like stopping in for a peek at interesting art and comments.
Todays post doesnt have a comments screen so you might want to peek at it.
Really liked this one and that one.
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