proser

I make art for blind eyes, and speak to empty chairs and the deaf. I write and paint what I'd like to enjoy, but can't find. For me. This is not pretentiousness, this is apathy to public reception. This is my backscratcher, a place to prattle prose and paint as I find myself uncontrollably compelled to do. Enjoy or don't, I'll not be affected.
~ Tuesday, March 2 ~
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It’s never as clean and simple as I wished

…or understood everything to be as a child.  Obviously so, and often necessary, but I was thinking about what really impacted me as I learned of life, art, sex, money.  We are not television, not in appearance, health, manners, abilities, etc.  There are no black outlines, there are no true solid colors.   There is no constant; It all changes, abruptly, often drastically.  Life is unsterile.  We are messy animals; surrounded constantly by infinitely small invisible creatures, dust from our own flaking skin and hair, and sickness and disease are only a tainted meal or a handshake away.  Food must be prepared by someone, it doesn’t just materialize when you need it, warm.  Girls don’t come with shaved legs, and they bleed once a month.  My dick doesn’t look like it did when I was born, and I had no idea it was ever different.  Life costs money.  Money costs work.  Work costs life. I found that the simple concept of “home” had to be built with mortgages, social security, stock options, a 401k.  I never wanted to plan financially, and I still haven’t.  I think often that I don’t care where it leads me.  I suppose I’ve got some more learning to do there.  It’s so tiring being a citizen.