Capricious

69 - Tuscan Rebellion

"Being an artist is more of a mindset, a way of seeing things; it is no longer so much about producing something."
- Ai Weiwei

Ghostly tunnels, left behind by martyrs of a madman's will. A creamy burn swirls around my mouth, crashing down my throat, but a waterfall of cure. Pounding waves of music shower the air, like the misty spray standing too close to a fountain, or a bitter winter's wind fresh with snow pincering at my face. My mind is bubbling like a tropical hot spring, of all the adventure to follow me now, such unpredictable tremors to a now fortified life. I have found my way, through the cracked ruins of a long-forgotten civilisation's wall, a way to encumber further years in dreams and rationalised hopes. Convincing myself the next steps of all I wish to explore are staring me in the face, as I ride down this hourglass on my grain of sand. An adventure of sex, of travel, of curiosities. To experience all I can in this tetris shaped suit, and yet appear special after all.

I have art in my soul, and she wants to escape, like something just too far out of site, that my subconscious imagination brings to life, that's how my creativity flows. She fills with stripes and lines, swirling and diagonal, spots and shapes, colours bright and dark. I want to draw it closer, to experience her in her most perfect form. So often I miss the perfect balance, an overload to destroy such things, but here I am filled with confidence once more, that some spark can be lit, some undying purpose revealed, that appears eternal from within my shell of skin.

How odd now that we sacrifice physical comfort for social comfort, wearing that which will let us fit into our respective society more so than they fit our very person.

Our lives a process of structuring chaos in all its forms, until we either bore of order and chase wilder chaos, or become lost in order for the rest of our lives. We are the universe structuring reality, dissolving chaos throughout our existence, the designers of progression, else falling back down the evolutionary tree, to start all over again.

Thinking can be poisonous, for thoughts without expression can dwell and breed such fierce resentment, festering within our minds whilst hiding from social stigmas. They steal from life, steal from experience, all because we feel another's ignorance impacting unjustly on our lives, breaching the sphere of our own ignorance. If we cannot give in, and we cannot push back, then ripples will surge, lashing out in unsuspecting directions, and social wars will reign havoc upon our lives. It takes a person of great mental strength to halt the cycle, to let go of all thoughts, all resentment, all ideas of justice, and live freely within whatever space remains. For it is in that time that we can think clearly, that we can create solutions to these battles of ignorance, and forge our own path through life devoid of all poison, and find others to surge us through. Our sphere of ignorance shrinks and transcends, and within this level of reality we all have created, we can be free.

Debates are healthy, a mutual battle of minds to discover new ideas and understanding. Arguments however are poisonous, a battle of fears to destroy relationships and souls. The difference merely depends on whether we are afraid to be wrong or not.

To become better, to become more efficient, to evolve we must evolve our communication, in language, in technology, to become more transparent, to reduce misunderstanding, to become a single organism, capable of the most extraordinary things.

The friends and lovers made while drunk, excite but never stay, and yet those made when high, seem to largely remain.