justnick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Well, here's a little story 'bout a man named Jed BGM: "Circles" - Soul Coughing And when the gas runs out, just wreck it, you insured the thing. And that's about the gist of it, now isn't it? Insurance. That's what restrains us, that's what makes us takes the risks we take. We have some kind of insurance. A safety net. But where's the line in our brains that decides when we'll just say fuck it all and take a risk on principle or whim. Or maybe some never do. Maybe some do nothing but. Maybe for all our sound reasoning and logic streams, we're nothig but anarchy with a pretty face. Perception painting chaotic and random choices in Logic's clothes. I am only dimly aware, I think, of the fact that most of the most significant descisions I've made in life are the totally illogical ones. Why did I cut my hair that fateful day, 11 years ago? Who knows. Why did I decide to take that first drink? Whim? Vanity? Paradigm shift of one, perhaps. A concept as contradictory in itself as the actual logic paths that it describes. Onamotapedic, in non aural kind of way. I wonder about that sometimes. How different would the human experience be if we weren't all so occulocentric? The concepts of beauty, right and wrong, all that might be altered. For better or worse, who can say. That in itself is just a matter of perception too, now isn't it? And being an occulocentric being, you see, I perhaps can't see with my eyes what's meant to be contemplated with omniscience. A world of contemplations out there, but what difference do any of them make? I suppose that right there is the root of it, and maybe where my brain is taking me in its signature convoluted manner. Concepts of abstract thought are my insurance that I'm something extraordinary. Excelsior. 8:40 p.m. - 2003-09-02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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