T
houghts are really like smoke, curling around the edges of a life until they disappear irrelevantly or we resign ourselves - perhaps - to purely the simple pleasures andaddictions of life’s very nature…….to free, un-chronicled times with our friends, their characters, their reflections of our own selves and desires and moods…
Turn! Turn away now and behold the views from your windows… be unchanged… byany ramblings or insights here laid down in leavened scrawl… be unchanged by insightsthat feel just as strong unspoken to oneself within the winds of the world as when theyare at all observed and preserved here… but that this writing is a form of worship… adelight to recount and to relive… to recognise the powers that formulate out from our repeating spirits… where we are left to ourselves and to one another…
So ok….Come on in then… let my world whisper out from its particularities and itseternal similarity….unto you and
your
world… so we may recognise… so we may find
our way to what we feel is right and good… For it is the magic of smoke… the quietmagic in the smoke… a guiding and reminding smoke…..
Random scribblings of quotes and drawings fill sketchbooks until a need to makesomething of it comes over me…..a need to lay it all down in a more consolidated fashionleading to some great, entertaining statement for our times, for
my
time……a project toengage the brain where thoughts may trigger the senses in another…….to inspire or toreach agreement….or expand the vast subconscious of man…….or where there is somuch sharing in these times – these postmodern times where entertainment overtakesreality to leave the Entertained, struggling to reclaim a realism…….or just resignourselves to nothingness…….and make another piece of text floating through brief mental surfaces in the broadly increasing general memory of peoples who are overly pensive…
A bundle of old notepads with assembled thoughts; spontaneous sketchings quickly inkedand later perfected, a bottle of Jacob’s Creek………A glowing screen, the soft tap of letters on a keyboard sent into an electricalinnerspace….So we may interface again into these thoughts now being stored, reflectingto perhaps reflect back onto a new time through new minds……Old thoughts of no valueto my changed self? Observations from one time and one certain society……amid thesilent, permanent, perpetual insistence of nature; of all our ways……….
Everything has been filmed and written and expressed……and we are the uncertainclichés, throwing away the sweet wrappers of our easily satiated needs; the post-passérejecting the dreams and perspectives of society that still intoxicate to shape and inspireour thoughts.…..Are we not reclaiming one another?…Seeking the real….before we aredrawn once more into yet more escapes into
more
elaborate worlds…..of shadow anddelight.…….and brief belonging."
