Heart > Brain

Heart > Brain. I think that's the reason. There are so many dimensions to it.

I always looked forward to exams, because it was during these moments that I could feel the full power of the heart to trump something as puny as the intellect. My heart made me learn the material. My mind was just a tool. [Is this thread becoming a tad dualist? apologies] The material was always just as arbitrary as this blog template.

It still is, but I'm also running out of time, I get distracted, and these days it's so easy to get confused. WWW makes us a much healthier ant colony, but individually more insecure.

[the dirty little secret, I learned from reading Marshall McLuhan: just like 50 years ago, washing machines and appliances didn't allow all humans to escape from housework -- it just made it possible, indeed, made it almost obligatory -- because it made it so damn easy -- for everyone to do their own housework, whereas they previously they relied on specialists, ie housekeepers to do the dirty work for them. So too info tech has made experts with arcane knowledge obsolete and shifted the burden of intellectual capital creation equally on all individuals in the modern society, and this seems like a blessing, but really it's a curse, especially if ignorance is bliss, for the tools -- no, not just the tools, but also the ball and chain, the mouse and the keys, are literally at our fingertips, and so no one can ever stop doing homework, just like your washing machine forces you to wash your own clothes; anyways this is a long explanation for how we are so intellectually exhausted and feeling tricked by our 'advancement'.]

I'm always willing to start fresh, and not worried about not writing as much as I used to. Why was I writing in the first place? To prove a point? To be admired? Or to love you?


Some particularly urgent sermonizing

(whozzis? factor: 8)

Handle not these words as a baker grabs hot pizza trays with an oven mitt. Instead, let the sizzling slop pour down your legs and stick to your unwilling knee skins, 3rd degree burns be cursed-- or better still, allow your soul full immersion to sights your eyeballs shrink to see. Filter not the ear-ringing that ensues upon crunching my message to its kernel: instead, flutter your lips with hosannanalia and cup your lucky ears to the wind. Be coarse and gay and twimble about the barn!

Do we dine, or die? Do we limp and lie, or crackle and fly?

A weekend awaits! Scan the movie-house schedules and build a future-barge to float your flopsy fantasies. You could dig a large hole, fill it with butter, jump headlong and cook yourself in predictable stews. You could snort vast quantities of otherworldly powders, seductively expedient shortcuts to ectasy - but would they open your essence to its inner eagle?

Fantastic figures of otherwise ordinary citizens, drowning each other with carefulness to keep all volume at a medium -- to Styx with them, they lack all glitter. I insist upon a more potent jamboree. I will have a violent clashing of words, and I will sweep up all the hairy leavings and build a magic pillow to sleep through this incredible assault of boredom that cankers my skin to dust!