This era has given a new spin on time as if every day forward is the lucky hesitance of someone having not yet dropped any nuclear bombs. People find peculiar ways to reference some random date indicating an ancient calculation of their end, THE END, hand-picking whatever moronic occurrence they wish to back that theory (a rock song, violence in a movie, no more malt shops, whatever).
Then the bigger things, the extremists, the terrorism, the noise, is summarized – practically justified. On track.
My theory is that your theory is going to come crashing down, tumbling forward and crumbling just inches before my feet… like every other bit of foolishness. Then I’m going to take some of that rubble for my collection because, well, it just looks cool.
That’s my blow-off explanation for the gardens of ruin in my figurative world: the cracks are like, all pretty and stuff. Like your theories, only, you know, caused by things that actually happened. Not to sound like a total bitch, but if you dig around some of those larger concrete squares you will probably find parts of yourself that I prefer to remember.
I say that lovingly.
Speaking of theories, I’ve been telling everyone at work to watch the music video for Insane Clown Posse’s single, Miracles. Ever since I spotted Violent J I’ve been poking around his online empire (side door avenue strolls, the local attraction) and when I found Miracles it made me laugh. Wicked clowns who rap about a dark carnival where evil entities punish the wicked in gruesome fashions, have started releasing material about how the mysteries of the world and all of its secrets must be attributed to God. Fair enough curve ball, but they reference things that they just don't understand, making them sound a bit ignorant.
Now, I get the point they were (hopefully) trying to make, that life is incredible. But it still sounds like some crazy, uneducated B.S. coming from a couple of people wearing face paint who are really, really high. So I dunno. I hope they realize that things become even more amazing after you discover the facts behind them, regardless of whether or not there is a creator to take all of the credit.
All theories aside, why do I continue to observe that guy whenever I see him, finding a decent vantage point, marveling over the many layers of secrets within? I mean, besides the fact that I'm shy and worried about making him uncomfortable with my vast knowledge of joker cards and how I recognized him by his eyes before going home and verifying any visible tattoos?
The answer is simple and most wondrous…
An unexplainable magnetic attraction.