It could be said that I’ve not been at my most creative. My head has been full of woes, hows, and what-ifs. It’s no way to live. The practicalities don’t feature in my list of priorities, so, when I have to pay attention, I usually have to begin with apologies, negotiations and nuanced begging. That’s the bit I’ve been dreading.
I am a minion with a vision. A perspective. Subjective Anarcho-Syndicalism, with lashings of cynicism and spoonfuls of pessimism. Skepticism must not be rejected. Certainty includes a slab of granite on which my name will need engraving, so, perhaps, I must consider that there might be a life out there worth having. Maybe a leap of faith worth braving? Unlikely, but strangely entertaining.
I can play mind games about meaning all night. Is it in Picasso, or the amygdala? DNA or Caligula? Am I a sparky sack of chemicals fizzing?, a God?, a particle collision? None of it, and All of it, is right.