Armchair Philosophies

Far From Poland

Several times I saw him, before I noticed him. His eyes are like christmas and his smile makes a difference within my core. Perhaps continents divide the small area of space we inhabit, but there is more, under the skin, muscle aches and memories. He sees me and knows I'm more intrique than trouble. I am a deep well of compassion. I want to show him. If the world cracked and crumbled before, it could happen once again between our two silent needs... and then, we'd match. In deed, we would match. 

Phishing for Kindness - previously published at blog.madeofmud.com

There aren't many people who can speak the truth while providing a cush landing pad for the ego to fall to. There are times when that ability had come natural, these days, I think perhaps, the ego should be smashed against a concrete slab rather than placed upon a gold leaf finished floor.
What I find most intriguing about the latter is the inability for the so-called-crushed to find a source of truth - whether it be intelligent or absent-minded - within themselves to agree or disagree with whatever this 'blow' would reveal.

exp: absent-minded striking:
"Are you trying to make me look stupid in front of the other guests?"
     "You don't need any help from me."
"That's right!"

exp: intelligible striking:
Said one well-dressed lady to another lady approaching wearing black net stocking, short red skirt, tight bustier and seemingly vacant brown eyes...
"Excuse me miss, you have holes in your stockings, is that where a man should put his money?"
    "Your presupposition in regards to this net hosing would assume my role as a woman of the night, though it be noon. Did your tightly fitted mind have the time to notice the car from which I approached and the backstage door of a theatre to which I am heading.
"It's most inappropriate. You can't dress before a show and then enter the playhouse!"
    "Oh, but I can-can. Ta-ta."
Above, the heading on the marque reads, Moulin Rouge - noon show $2 TODAY ONLY. The well-dressed lady curls her fur collar closer her neck and scuffs away.

Situations arise almost on a daily where people assume they know what they see is truth, but it is often a narrow truth. One may speak on it and be correct in his view of the circumstance or perceive a larger truth than his own and wait for that to be revealed. Often silence is a most powerful thing, but there are those boastingly few that should find that concrete slab a more suitable setting than the comforted gold they be used to.

thoughts?

 
  

Esthetics and Non-Esthetics

In reading The Art of Tragedy, Nietzche honorable expelling Schopenhauer's belief that lyric poets are so far from reality they cannot see the tragedy in life. On the contrary, the subject being an artist, is already swollen with both contemplation and will. To paraphrase, art cannot be valued on esthetics, the reason being, the subjective, a habitually self-promoting personality can only be an enemy of art and never it's creator.  

If indeed we measure our individual will greater than the reality of the artistic exertion, how ever can a conscious mind consider all of creation? 

Within the essence of all being, we fascinate through the realms of art and wonder, still concretely formed from some part of the subjectively sculpted minds of those whom we watched and imitated as youth. Is it the illusion in this significance that we should continue to undulate or shall, at once, actually participate in the lyrical presence within our own being to see the truest form of existence and how, individually, we fit into it, creating the whole of life?

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