If we tear it all down things will work. Work in the sense of hard thinking and rules but no rules and lots of play. Tear it all down. Not in the sense of starting over (starting over would result in eventually tearing it all down again), but in starting something new. What new? Tear what down? He said tear it all down and I smiled because he means nothing when he speaks about his passion. Liable to say anything I keep my mouth closed waiting for him to breathe. Yes breathe he says is what we all should do. Learn to use our space our breath. The tone of his voice will slightly rise and that is when you know he means what he says. Even if he means nothing he means it. His convictions are not always thought through but that is what draws me closer. He convinces me that my darkish sandy brown hair hard and wiry turns him on. The subtle shape I have to work so hard to maintain caught his fancy and now when he leaves me my body yearns for more caresses. A pain worth enduring his departures signal the incredible anxiety and anticipation of comfortable return. A return that results in an exchange of skin and debauchery capable of making Sade proud. He likes to joke around and imbues my ink with facetious but always genuine mischief. It is and has been now for a while time to radicalize the established preconceptions of morality. I need to warp minds and invest myself wholly to a cause that may not effect anything right away but could perhaps eventually pave the way for developments in...what I ask? The arts my friend my love of the wind and cadence aglow. Everything for art is
ubiquitous. Convention is stasis and awaits its day of judgment. Think battle of Titans think Zeus' rebellion. And you are Zeus I presume? Well the problem is labels are a problem so try not to think in terms of names
but think of rebellion. Dada and the likes, all that crap. Anti-art the only true art because...He is so passionate but he found my ear on the pillow. The curves of the pinna what a fetishizer.
Calculatingly cold. His manifesto complains of the ways in which popular media is not art because anything popular to him is media i.e. propagandistic agenda has influenced our line of thought so much that it has become controlling. This notion is nothing new but he wants to enucleate it from the highfalutin texts that while he admires he also knows that they are essentially inaccessible (unfortunately we agree). I say you are crazy what about cheap escapism but he says down the drain! So I bite him and continue reading. This novel approach to creating nothing I find intriguing if not a bit pretentious but the risk he is willing to undertake forces me to fall so complacently into his arms. He will run into the street exclaiming his love for Piaroa but no one listens. He will yell I want to make love to this body standing next to me then everyone turns their head. How we all crave a dose of exhibitionism and willingly condemn as soon as we drink it. It is too easy to hate what you secretly love he mutters as if the thought were not completely formulated. But sometimes you have to speak instinctively because the world is about
location location location. And reaction. So you know. And I think that out loud. We were late for everything that day.
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