It's that time of night... roughly around 8.10 PM. It's quiet, except for the distant hum of the traffic outside. I take a deep breath, and it isn't recycled from my brother's wasted outbursts, or anybody else's concerned nagging fears. It's liberating to know there's a place - and time - nobody else knows about; I feel the breeze from the fan pass conspiratorially around me. I recall the last time I was in this place - vaguely sheepish at all of the youthful insecurities, the little bundle of follies that I was. Not that I'm not, right now... just that I won't be finding out for awhile. I like the quiet. Where all you ever encounter is buzzing, flitting, energetic flashes, a little quiet becomes more than absence of - it becomes presence.
And presence becomes inspiration.
At last, he smiles at skull and bone
at sword, and spear and staff
for they, which claim from most but one
claim from him only half.
- Adam
Sunday, December 26
Thursday, December 23
I'm tired and I don't understand anything.
Rayner, I highly respect your opinion but I will not blog about cheese.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
To get to the other side.
Clearly this chicken was in a dangerous state of mind, to the point of being suicidally compelled to perform life-threatening stunts like crossing potentially busy roads... you all know that 'the other side' has more than one meaning. You might laugh at first. But this example proves beyond doubt that POULTRY FARMING IS INHUMANE!
Clearly our brutal farming practices are driving INNOCENT chickens to the point of suicide! This cannot be allowed to continue. It shocks me that some countries in the world still permit this barbarism to continue. Let me tell you... there is a place in the future for chickens. Chickens are real people too, with real feelings and real problems. It's Christmas-time, a time for brotherhood - a time when we can make amends with these mistreated souls. Save the chickens.
Feed the chickens - let them know it's christmas-time.
-Adam
Why did the chicken cross the road?
To get to the other side.
Clearly this chicken was in a dangerous state of mind, to the point of being suicidally compelled to perform life-threatening stunts like crossing potentially busy roads... you all know that 'the other side' has more than one meaning. You might laugh at first. But this example proves beyond doubt that POULTRY FARMING IS INHUMANE!
Clearly our brutal farming practices are driving INNOCENT chickens to the point of suicide! This cannot be allowed to continue. It shocks me that some countries in the world still permit this barbarism to continue. Let me tell you... there is a place in the future for chickens. Chickens are real people too, with real feelings and real problems. It's Christmas-time, a time for brotherhood - a time when we can make amends with these mistreated souls. Save the chickens.
Feed the chickens - let them know it's christmas-time.
-Adam
Tuesday, December 21
Civilisation?
Lotsa people on holidays now. Australia... America... China. I'm not going anywhere this hols due to overwhelming other commitments, but say if I did, where would I go?
Hmm.
Lemme tell you now, I am sick of urbanised locations. I have lived for the better or best portion of fifteen years in a gigantic city-state. All of our natural locations are man-made, or at least man-protected... otherwise they'd have gone years ago. The extent of 'scenery' is a lake (which doubles up as a reservoir) and a tiny little hill or two.
If I had to go away on holiday, I'd go to a place like Africa. Give me a sanitation-deprived cave dwelling any day, if it means I can get away from 'civilisation'.
-Adam (who is running out of things to talk about. Ideas are welcome.)
Hmm.
Lemme tell you now, I am sick of urbanised locations. I have lived for the better or best portion of fifteen years in a gigantic city-state. All of our natural locations are man-made, or at least man-protected... otherwise they'd have gone years ago. The extent of 'scenery' is a lake (which doubles up as a reservoir) and a tiny little hill or two.
If I had to go away on holiday, I'd go to a place like Africa. Give me a sanitation-deprived cave dwelling any day, if it means I can get away from 'civilisation'.
-Adam (who is running out of things to talk about. Ideas are welcome.)
Monday, December 20
Christmas
On Christmas Eve, during the years of the First World War, an unofficial truce was declared between the British and German troops across a battlefield; they erected Christmas trees in their trenches and sang 'Silent Night'. What is it about Christmas?
At that point, the troops perhaps realised that the war was not their war; the people that fought on the battlefield were ultimately brothers in circumstance - the war called them to fight for ideals bigger than the soldier himself, but for a night they chose to recognise that they were all kindred in a way, British or German.
That is what always strikes me about Christmas - the message of brotherhood. There's no time all year to recognise that - religious implications aside - born in a manger or not, in the end we achieve little more than what's in our hearts; and for a day at least, we can encompass even enemies as brothers.
- Adam,
and Merry Christmas to you too.
At that point, the troops perhaps realised that the war was not their war; the people that fought on the battlefield were ultimately brothers in circumstance - the war called them to fight for ideals bigger than the soldier himself, but for a night they chose to recognise that they were all kindred in a way, British or German.
That is what always strikes me about Christmas - the message of brotherhood. There's no time all year to recognise that - religious implications aside - born in a manger or not, in the end we achieve little more than what's in our hearts; and for a day at least, we can encompass even enemies as brothers.
- Adam,
and Merry Christmas to you too.
Saturday, December 18
New stuff.
In a spate of boredom I decided to start blogging again... we'll see how long this lasts. I'll change the template later when I have time.
I hate the holidays.
Anyways, on to the diatribe.
The worst time to be a human is adolescence. We are unable to cope with such a deluge of new things - new experiences, and realise that we've got no clue what to do - and people flounder for 'identity'. Things that used to be miles off, like growing up and finding a job, are now in your face, so to speak, and nobody's actually remarkably helpful about that. Some people retreat into themselves, seeking this 'identity' - others turn outside to find who they are. This identity crisis, if I can put it that way, drives people on - to do something, anything at all, to the best of their ability so they can say 'This is what I do. This is -me-.' Some people feel inadequate that they can't as of yet call anything 'themselves'... Or call themselves anything.
What about me? In the last three years i've been a student, teacher, writer, poet, musician, speaker, scientist and artist. Can I really say of any of these, 'This is me'?
No.
Transcience is painful.
I hate the holidays.
Anyways, on to the diatribe.
The worst time to be a human is adolescence. We are unable to cope with such a deluge of new things - new experiences, and realise that we've got no clue what to do - and people flounder for 'identity'. Things that used to be miles off, like growing up and finding a job, are now in your face, so to speak, and nobody's actually remarkably helpful about that. Some people retreat into themselves, seeking this 'identity' - others turn outside to find who they are. This identity crisis, if I can put it that way, drives people on - to do something, anything at all, to the best of their ability so they can say 'This is what I do. This is -me-.' Some people feel inadequate that they can't as of yet call anything 'themselves'... Or call themselves anything.
What about me? In the last three years i've been a student, teacher, writer, poet, musician, speaker, scientist and artist. Can I really say of any of these, 'This is me'?
No.
Transcience is painful.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
