These are crooked times. They steal space and wheel ways in the pathetic existence that is our lives. So much suffering, so much death, so much wailing and howling and gnashing of teeth. At times it’s unbearable, and at others it merely seems the only reality we have ever known. Wear a helmet, young one, for you never know what may come along and bash your head into itself. Brutes are borne of this world, let no one tell you different. They will descend and crash. And the howling never stops. Yet, somehow, we find beauty and poignancy and softness.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Brutal
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Man, talk about the yin and yang between your two stories. I really like them both.
ReplyDeleteWhy do you think it is that we as humans have a tendency, when talking about the bad things in life, to want to give advice to the "young one"?
Haha interesting. I guess it's because:
ReplyDeletea) we're bitter
b) we're jaded
c) we fucked up
d) all of the above and/or more
e) we don't want them to turn out like any of the above