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Critics Can Be Verkelmpt

What is a critic in the arts, a failed painter, writer, movie maker, singer of songs? Who can truly know, but I doubt it is primary, maybe some small part of the soup. Is it the provincial intellect with such a sour vindictive nature he can't but help spread his grand effluence, add another brick to the already extensive pile of bitter reproof. It would seem to be so sometimes. It would also be probable that the critic is truly infused with the love of that he criticizes, along with years of education, osmosis, and experience, his writing sits on solid ground, but, the proverbial but that negates all that precedes it, it is still just his opinion. Then maybe that he has cachet and people look to him for guidance as to what is and what is not, and follow the natural instinct of wanting to be liked, knowing what is read, worn and watched is a part of that gregarious social nature of man. That is a bit of power for one man, to arbitrarily do the roman gladiator thing, the up or down vote..rewrite this...

My question is, why does one have someone tell him what is/makes great art. How can that be, great art in any form was great before someones imprimatur made it so. In fact by the time it is observed it has gone on to a new location on the beach ball of reality, a social version of Heisenberg's Theory of Uncertainty. Art is great beauty, it smells like gardenias, it's shapes seduce us, it's colors caress our eyes, its' sounds, aural ecstasy, your body shivers, its words a universe of thought and fantasy with no physical boundary, no limitation of the possible.

Needs rewrite.

End War

End warendwarendwarendwarendwarendwarendwarendwarend

I was going to show a movie here but it was too horribly graphic to watch I wouldn't wound you that way, that should be your choice solamente, so this, as very dark comedy, must do, and it does do well.







We must stop doing this to ourselves..can you feel my tears coming out of your eyes.

I wish I knew



I am holding on to my sanity by a hand already strained with incredible force. Everything that is written here I believe, and don't believe so why would I waste my time with the duality of writing it, it would seem that one does not always benefit from ones own wisdom, and that would be a fool. Maybe it is that I have none, as someone said better thought none than some and be the fool...heads nod in complicit agreement. We are all one thing but my little corner seems slightly askew, I love that word, it is rare, as its meaning and sound seem the same. If you read this article you will get an idea of what can happen to someone. It is not necessarily that I am the spiritual nomad referred to, certainly quite the opposite of a saint, but you can be on this road without knowing where you are and there is no map. Truly lost is what you could say about the situation, traveling at the speed of light to the 7th level of Dante Allighieri's hell is a common theme. Hell must surround you and take you prisoner, no sane man, my polar opposite, would venture there of his own accord. And that is how I arrived. Maybe feeling insane is good therapy, chin up, chest out no worries here mate, just a visitor, temporarily indisposed, pay no attention to the man in the corner talking to himself. Everything is doing quite nicely at falling apart, I have never seen such efficiency, the yang of the yin seems to be a tight operation nothing out of place here.
Writing these words is even a mystery, with no idea what is coming. It is really quite a sensation as I desperately try to understand what it is I am supposed to do. What should I say, what words, what meme, what great idea, what philosophy, what god will free me. Rescue me. Nothing. It is all stitched in place, trapped like my brother rat in a cage of mystical complexity, stuck to myself, railing and howling for what I don't know, I just know it is, and right now my isness isn't all that.

Wanna Buy A TV


TV For Sale
There were all these men and woman with perfect hair, you know, the kind that looks like it should be on a Barbie and Ken doll. I got scared, they kept telling me I should be very afraid of everything and then they tried to sell me some toothpaste, then they told me to be afraid again and then they tried to sell me some potato chips, I guess that was what the toothpaste was for.

It's a flat screen beauty that just oozes fear..please come and take it off my hands
Best offer, free actually.