Culture is Imploding

I Have Come Here to Kick Ass and Chew Bubble Gum...and I'm all out of Bubble Gum

[Warnings] #2 Here There Be Monsters

In sculpture the process always begins the same way, borne by single idea on the wings of swift inspiration it sets fire to the brain like a speck of white phosphorus in a grass hut. In execution/incineration phase an idea becomes abstracted, mutated, and spliced a thousand different ways. The "final" often shows either slight resemblance to the original idea or none at all. Many of ideas never even make it to the "final" stage they become discarded along the way for more practical, feasible, translatable, and/or sexier ideas.

However these rejected ideas refuse to go away, their validity as being interesting trumps their infeasibility (for whatever reason) as a sculpture. Like the electrons in an particle accelerator they swirl around the mind: gaining momentum, changing from, and smashing into each other fragmenting and fusing into hybrids and mutants.

This blog was no different. It was created out of the idea that I needed a refuse(refuge) bin for these rouge ideas. The ones that don't fit anywhere else. The Weird. The Strange. The Uncanny. Mostly the Banal: obscure quotes, random photos, half-finished thoughts and poems. A place to give them free reign. To experiment. To play. To surprise. To subvert. To bore. Not just on the blog but in it. It is at once part of all of experiments and yet an experiment itself. Do not expect consistency. Do not expect temporarily. Do not expect reality.

I have claimed this small corner of the Virtual as my own, and here there be monsters. 

-mgmt

I am Become Death

   "Death toys with life, life toys with death. Which of the two succumbs? It is not we who defend ourselves against death, it is death that defends itself against us" - J.B.

For I certainly am me, but not Me;
I am me and yet non-me.

Resembling the lustful entwining of client and prostitute - false lovers in shame of their union.

For I certainly am I, but not I;
I am I and yet non-I.

Resembling the paranoid tip-toeing of unfaithful partners - false lovers in horror of their shadows.

For I certainly am;
and yet I am not.

Resembling the  beautiful tragedy of dysfunction - false lovers in denial of their irreconcilability.






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