Avalon

And the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short..

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

If habituation breeds emotional numbing, at times I do fall into a certain state I have come to term 'social ambivalence'. Too much automaticity in daily life, following a tad too many pre-scripted procedures, intricately matched role patterns, well-contrived alliances built upon utilitarian foundations. Everyone gathers in a place but are never quite there. The clock ticks by but each person runs on a different time. The dosage of stimulation that can bring one back from a state of comatose hardly arrives, and when it comes disguised as 'sake of argument' it merely gives rise to constructed artifice and empty bubbles.

A voice mimicking mine reverberates within the confines of my mind, like some ominously repressed ghosts of the past rising from the distant shadows. "What we are doing, feed on dreams." Others and our own. For the attainment of well-taught, vaguely conceived goals, these dreams we amass then devour without much thought or discretion, only mediated by some form of delayed empathy and occasional pangs of conscience. I fear the dissipation of courage to manufacture enough of those dreams to fuel ever-growing ambitions, and this alternative energy shortage crisis looms ahead.

And sure enough, a faint 'pop' sound goes off in the distance.

Nature and constructs, the light and the dark.
You see a line and I see an endless arc.

Envoy of the Stars @ 11:29 PM
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