I was shaking as I stepped out of the shower, dripping, naked–partly because I was cold, but also because I was absolutely nervous. About what you may ask. Well, sitting silently in a tank of water. My teeth were chattering as I rolled the wax ear plugs in my hands and jammed them into my… Continue reading Sensory Deprivation: Exhibit One
I don’t want to be bothered. I just want to watch thick snowflakes descend slowly onto the frozen December grass. I want to read a new book. I want to write. I want to wake up, go out, return, and eat and sleep as I please. I don’t want to sit in a room full… Continue reading Untitled
I’ve been reading some Ayn Rand lately. I’m about 80 pages into The Romantic Manifesto, a collection of essays in which Rand argues the objectivity of art, why man creates art, philosophies roll in art, and what makes good art good and bad art atrocious. I often wonder whether art can be judged objectively and… Continue reading The Romantic Manifesto: Art is not a subjective luxury
Some Shit I thought whilst Choking On Air: Peddling, stagnation Rowing on the cement Breathlessly laughing Cheering the downfall of man Protective of the man behind Innocent and disputable eyes Never does he want to See the eyes gazing back Is this what life must become? The desolate, down in the dumps The pestilent, stout… Continue reading The Smoking Gun
This is the excerpt for your very first post.