Embrace fear. Ride it like a witch's broom.
Fly your fancies. Allow your kundalini to flow.
Caress your thoughts. Act seditious.
Make sex subversive.
Howl your pleasure at the moon.
Be realistic, demand magic.
First I read a rather apocalyptic article about oil running out (with this near-ecstatic gem of a closing line "Years from now, when we hear singing at all, we will hear ourselves, and we will sing with our whole hearts."). Then I saw this 1930s Italian advert for a long-gone petrol brand called Lampo (flash/lightning). Some things just drive a wry smile.
Drips and drops of time rain days that streak the skin; the changing geography of body across the mountains and the plains of months and years.
Each droplet rests as a deliciously daring delight on the tip of the tongue before evaporating.
Liquid snowflakes that defy an equatorial sun.
So now to be atemporal. How do you say cool in the city of Guangzhou?
(click on each image for larger view)
There are days when I feel as I were a wired Woody Allen wildly worrying about hypothetical health hazards. Those that pockmark our contemporary history, our daily meta-psyche. And I ask myself: has my hypochondria been hijacked by information?
"Everybody's running around, looking at their Bloomberg, looking at the latest quotes, answering everything. They're pouncing on every bit of stimulation as if it's going to make a big difference. And they have no strategy, or their strategy changes every day.They're all running around, working their tails off. But they're really at the whim of the market. They think they're working hard, and they think they're being productive, but they're not. They're busy, but they're not thoughtful."