For an acute obligation-phobic such as I, posting once a week is naturally not my cup of tea.
Listening to vast amounts of music these days.
The only thing missing in my life is sex, but I'm quite the Shohei Imamura when it comes to that, 'it's too much hassle'.
This will hopefully inaugurate- lol- a stream of lazy stupid posts, finally on a par with the author's true nature.
Think ANY GIVEN SUNDAY but by a bunch of Garfields; words are too ethereal to be but a joke. Do I have an opinion on anything? No! Of course not! I have no such need! I'm what I do, not what I say. It may sound like metaphysics and maybe it's the bleeding obvious, taken for granted and skipped away from by the huge majority. But words are just maps we use in our frantic measuring meters- in times and tips of measuring meters- to establish our definitions of other people. They're like sex; i can't think of them without giggling.
It's typical of this generation; so much for cars, in truth there are no battles to be won. Nature- space- was beaten by our parents. And thank you, truly. But we simulate the battles with those 70s and 80s Sidney Lumet- mini Serpicos- pics from years of wild aesthetics... we're so free it's just about finding manners of remaining interested. Wow.
If you elaborate in certain manners, you don't have to fight nature. Think the 'many alternatives modern life has to offer', from LOCAL HERO.
So there's Barcelona F.C.'s fine form, Madrid's hilarious slump, Sarda's charming interviews of priests and NBA night games, my flirtatious and unconvincing return to the filmoteque via Buster Keaton, this is pretty much it. If I'm not convincing you, try speaking to schoolteachers 20 years your senior. It's not about sticking to one speciality, so the history of epistemology receeds as sociobiology kicks in...
As for the combo of introversion and extroversion that leads to this blog:
The only game left is the nature of time, the very thing this blog attempted to ascertain with giggling rhetorical flourish. It isn't about words. With grammar, they receed. No drugs, no drink, no injuries, no dramas. No words. So it's just time.
This Week on Firing Line . . . #15
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