dominoes, continued

where was matches? that's right, the green greens. scenario: a thought gets lit, sparked dimly; it winds and coils along its path like a trail of gunpowder in a bugs bunny cartoon. it has an end, a purpose (let's not tangle with the whole predestination thing right now); it has an explosion that's only beyond sight because it lies around one of those stubborn corners. everything is around a corner, isn't it? a solid metaphor, an unnavigable opacity. where?...and then...there! only something interrupts...somethings distracts, something steals the motivation to pursue these trails into the night. the powder keg remains in uncharted space, lost to the world unrealized. a plot device that never came to be, phased out by the harsh re-scripting of the editor.

"drink up baby, stay up all night
with the things you could do
you won't, but you might
the potential you'll be, that you'll never see
the promises you'll only make...
drink up with me now
and forget all about, the pressure of days
do what I say, and I'll make you okay
and drive them away
the images stuck in your head"
~ elliot smith - between the bars

and life is edited, isn't it? what of all the unborn aspirations, the concepts, the hidden desires and frustrations? these things exist, certainly; just not objectively. one of the main problems that matches had with most existentialist philosophy is its emphasis on what comes to pass, as opposed to what could have been. what was in theory. and, this emphasis is understandable. but, how harsh a reality, where a person's composition is judged solely upon what exists. how can you say that a thought exists any less than an action? in the realm of politics, of people and relationships, we have to trust to objective realities, to actions. its the only manageable way, since there is no way to stroll casually down the streets in someone else's head. that is the way of things, the judge and the jury. but how stifling to say that in the grander scheme of things, in the nebulous qualities of the world beyond our own sociable interactions, that it is not intention or aspiration which counts, but only the actual manifestation of a thing.

this turns out to be one of the reasons that matches has to believe in some genuine capacity. without any notion of a god (or God, as you may see fit), there can be no secondary insights into our most personal of worlds, into the brambles of our minds and imaginations. for some reason, matches believes that these have to be acknowledged.

a bug just hit the window to the left of the computer screen, and m has never seen one of these things before. think of a lima bean with antennae~ don't worry, it's okay; just got the wind knocked out of it. if bugs breathe. do bugs breathe?

is it possible that those innermost notions could not be acknowledged? they are already so intangible, there is no way to convey them to another...no way to turn any perspective but one's own upon them. unless you get lucky and are an artist, and are adept and stealthy with such things~ pretty hard to start eight words with an 'a', one after another. always argumentative anthill. damn that was only three. but three of them were 'and' before. don't know if that counts, for whatever reason. ands get tossed around like styrofoam cups. anyway, all angles arch around an astounding area, an artificial aura aimed at an absolute and also ambiguous authority.
how's that for a mouthful.