Every Year I Like To Lick An Architect In The Cow

A friend of mine said this recently.
I could try and explain it or just leave it as it is.
Most things don’t survive dissection.
I’ll leave it as it is.

Permanent Revolution

So I'm sitting in a bar and I'm looking at her.
In the darkness, we are sitting quite close.
I'm looking at her and I'm thinking.
Outside, rain falls and the wind rattles it against the windows.
She stares at me.
There's a look in her eye which I can't make out.
I turn the beer glass in my hand, round and round.
She opens her mouth then closes it again.
Rain rattles against the window.
Later, she sends me a text.
I don't respond.
In the darkness, I lie on my bed and listen to the rain.

Enfant Terrible vs Poète Maudit

I can't figure out if I'm an enfant terrible or a poète maudit.

An enfant terrible is a young 'genius' who is often unorthodox, innovative or avant-garde in his field.

A poète maudit is a misunderstood poet living a life outside or against society, often abusing substances which results in an early death.

I'm too old to be an enfant terrible and still too alive to be a poète maudit. Plus I don't write poetry.

Godammit.

Maybe just stick to what is written on my business card.

Is Solitude The Result Of A Lack Of Imagination?

I was alone and bored so I went along to a philosophical discussion I saw taking place at a local café.
The topic, serendipitously enough, was Is solitude the result of a lack of imagination?
Now, it was a loaded question -obviously- so the first issue was to argue if it was well posed. It suggested that solitude was negative whereas solitude could be positive. Solitude could be suffered or chosen, pathological or essential. Furthermore, solitude was a state whereas imagination was a function so could the two be equated? Ironically, it could be argued that solitude lead to imagination, all great ideas having come from moments of quiet seclusion. So the question was already hanging by a thread…
Flipping it around, imagination could help lead out of solitude through thinking of ways not to be alone, much as I had just done. Although thinking also lead to anxiety which could lead to feelings of aloneness. Or, an old man asked, was it not imagination but understanding that was the real issue: if solitude is often the result of a lack of interest in things is it simply because we don’t understand them?
I didn’t have an answer to that. I didn’t have an answer to any of it. But I sat there, alone with other people, forming ideas and thoughts and buzzing.

We Are Being Infantilised Into A One-Click Culture

Like.

Know Thyself

‘Hey, Seb, do you think that you can ever know yourself?’
‘Who said that?’
‘Funny. But seriously, is it possible to know thyself?’
‘Well, Seb, if you don’t understand your own motivations, aren’t you just copying other people’s?’
‘Yawn. I didn’t ask you why you should, I asked you if you could.’
‘Well critical thinking is tough, you know, it’s tempting instead just to watch kittens wearing hats on YouTube.’
‘But what if your life is like a pair of glasses? Maybe you should just be looking through it, not at it…’
‘Have you been smoking?’
‘I mean, you can’t take yourself in isolation. What are you going to do, talk to yourself?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Seb. But what if what I see is not necessarily what there is? How do I know unless I challenge it, unless I ask myself the question?’
‘Like right now?’
‘Um, yes.’
‘Good question. I don’t know the answer. Maybe you’re asking the wrong person.’
‘Er… well… should we go look at some kittens on the internet?’
‘Yeah. And some tits…’

I'm Just About Hanging On By My Fingertips

I met this attractive girl the other night.
We had a drink and were talking and I started thinking about Goebbels, the Nazi Minister of Propaganda.
One of his theories on manipulation was: “Make the lie big, make it simple, keep saying it, and eventually they will believe it”.
It's a simple yet successful technique which has been used time and time again to manufacture consent and make anyone pointing out the fact that something is a lie appear to be a fruitcake.
“So,” the girl asked, “tell me about you.”
“I am brilliant. I am brilliant. I am brilliant...”