Possibly predictable, but far from absent of new wonder

The Banality: Interest Immediately


Damn, but how typical is this instinct to communicate and attempt to relate with the unexpected? Positively Pavlovian, or only predictably so? I just don't know, having only my inexperience with online weirdness to draw upon...but since it seems to be much but just like real life, compressed and squashed with a throbbing intensity that encourages the typing to get surreal with whatever subject matter is at fingertip, I won't sweat the tiny things like near-complete cluelessness. Besides, you don't need a computer degree to catch on...just a point of view sophisticated past the point of utter jadedness, expectations akin to buried zombies and a willingness to say "WTF?" while getting on with whatever comes next anyway.

So...the possible pretense in being a helpless automaton, close enough to self-aware puppet to laugh at oneself while willingly being jerked by our strings. Or should we examine things like instinct and impulse, the patterns we try to fit our grandly trivial designs in and other aspects of action without thought consciously, with the hope it doesn't make us horribly self-conscious? I know how small it can make us feel to be led by the letter, as we tell ourselves how much better we are than the petty side of us fascinated by this this process. Kills time between bouts with the word-processing program at work, I suppose...but it's still more than curious to see what machines we can be when certain buttons are pushed, and wonder how predictable we've become, especially in our eagerness to intellectualize desire until we feel safer talking about endorphins in verbally dissecting and dismissive ways, instead of enjoying them without the urge to enter endless psychoanalysis of our motivations and reasons.

But hey, what am I thinking doing all this thinking...when I should be acting like the conglomerate of well-trained nerve endings and badly behaved neurons we supposedly are? I know that's all there may be to all of us, truly...but really, terminal cynicism is more than unbecoming, it's completely self-defeating to any interest we have in being alive instead of settling for merely existing. Reduce us all to everything worth sneering at, assuming you need to for that apparent assumption of inherent superiority...I'd rather believe you know the joke our species can be is on you too, and you're willing to take a few bows and pratfalls by taking part in what's easy to assume is the worst kind of time-wasting game. Relation can resemble a parody of itself, especially when it's so easy to fake things it's easy to assume one's always being lied to...but be a part of this environment both hopeless and playful about it, without expectations deadly to whatever comes next either way. Otherwise it's all as okay as any shrug of the shoulders can suggest...and as pointless as the despondent point of view suggests, to anyone who decides to count on nothing but deception in everything and everyone.


Should we care how much of a cliche it makes us to show interest?...Samuel Bear Davis...

wow .. just wow .. that's all I got

...(short bow of respect)...danke, but I hope not to render you too speechless with my words here. There's an awful lot I have to learn from yours...so don't let any possible awe or uncertainty make you too reticent. Too often those who leave me tongue-tied...well, I try not to let my admiration assume anything I have to say in response is hopelessly inadequate or worthless in weight. Having said that, not quite sure what to say as well....so...(oh, can't post music links here, so check out Chris Whitely's studio version of "Cool Wooden Crosses," if you wish...)

Yeah, I'm a tad reticent. Takes me a while to get past that. And I'm also aware of laying it all out there on a public forum.

I listened to the song. The thing with lyrics, poetry... many interpretations.

I'm guessing if you like that song, those lyrics, you're hoping some awesome woman is going to come along and burn down the crosses in your mind .. free you of the burden of bitterness and emptiness which haunts the corridors within you.

I spent many years hoping some deep man would see into me, see my pain, and somehow magically cleanse me of it .. or at least comfort me for a while. At best, it works temporarily, after which the crosses seem bigger than before and I need more of the fix. I've come to believe that the best a man (or anyone) can do for me is to help me face my crosses, to stand with me while we look upon them together. But only I can burn them down.

I'd be happy to look at your crosses with you. Honored, even.

...I'd like that, in whatever time we have left to us to do with as we will. It's hard, isn't it?....from putting it all out there fro the world to see to trying to make relevant sense of it all, whether creator or interpreter. Hm...I do hope for a lover to share partsofsouls shapr and hardto handle....but for me, that song's about...hm....burning dfown the sacred a bit to see what's truly worthy of reverence, since the most sacred things to me withstand burning like that quite easily. Only what didn't deserve such reverence can be reduced to ashes...the best is undying, inside and outside us, and nothing that can be desecrated or denigrated. So....comfort yes, sharing yes....but no final solution in love and romance, no happily ever after that isn't very much more of the same and requiring work as much as beginnings and the joy and difficulties in every beginning. I have little love fort5hemyth anyone can fix and solve for x any of the variables and problems we are....there's more resolution in sharing the struggle and load, more magic in being open than any promises or wises to wave a magic wand and making everything better...

I like your version better.

...the truest artists always admire the work of others more than their own....which is why I love your variation more than my source material... ...