| atsonicpark |
08.31.2009 07:06 AM |
A system of letters and numbers conform the executive hierarchy, our self-possessed taxonomy, a random array of alignment ascends and declines each efforted categorization. We are all one collection of piecemeal people put platitudes pointlessly prior to bleeps and booms. We hear a tone, a pulse, a rhythm of white noise lifting our spirits as we stare down at every conceivable crevice, a mountain of media placed into proper receptacles. The label we use to describe a tuneful refrigerator is unknown for now, but one day we will describe it all.
Today we find ourselves wandering a desert of tags and categories, each piece of data representing a meaningless sliver of solid proof, evidence of existence evades our grasp as we stumble over an oversized oddball, a point tip trend tacked on for a laugh we languish in lucid heat under the soiled sun thinking the Earth used to be such a simple place. Our meanderless wandering about the utter meaning of useless descriptors and untidy restrictions leads us to every nowhere abound, unsound theory of evolution posits possible potential pulsating from order this list unordered and unknown to any eyes that set sight on sets of information. The path we all cross to finding finding findings finds us found in a massive pile of shit, swimming sweating sweet stillness, still, any other methodology is methodically insane, a massive experiment in “lettingthingsgo.” Unbeknownst and under beds, reveling in chaos of ones and zeroes, ourself undid and humanity at rest.
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