It's amazing how some people just don't want to be normal. They do not want to stay in the middle. For them it is either black or white and they mostly avoid the grey zone. I am one of those people. I find the everyday life so mundane and boring that I constantly need to have adventurous experiences. I think it has to do with creativity and being in the moment as well. Being a spontaneous person, I just like to invent situations that don't look like the past ones, I like to invent dialogues and stuff. I have found in life, that interesting people , the people whom I admire are the same. They do weird things and stuff all the time and they are not worried about the outcome. Most importantly they are not worried about how they are judged which is the mother of all obstacles to creativity and living a full life. Poets and philosophers have written a great deal about madness (and it's benefits). Isn't madness just another way of being which is not socially approved? Dionysus the great Greek god of wine and ecstasy and orgy, is mad and has to be balanced by Apollon, the god of reason and control. All civilisation (especially Western civilisation) has emerged from too much Apollon in action. I think the great tragedy of human kind is that humans are not allowed - cannot practically be - a Dionysus. But a free mind and great creativity can still arise from letting free the Dionysus inside us. "Whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger" opens new doors to my horizon, so I am willing to stretch my Dionysyus as far as I or anybody else don't get killed.
It’s dull and boring, but it’s homeostatic. It’s in the cellar. It’s in the attic. Wishing will never make it better. "Want" is the first rain drop of coming destruction. It is the "Indian Summer" of our impending doom. It is a "Garbage-Truck Holiday" with overflowing trash-bins in our room. Frugality is the first step towards freedom. Frugality is a type of inverted wealth. Frugality is sweet fragrance to the Lord’s disciples; the specter of fear to greedy corporations. Frugality is the death bullet to stockholders and their hillside-mansion dreams. It is the antidote to the disease of world domination schemes. It is a wrecking ball rolling through the halls of crystal statues; sculptures of glass crash in its path.
I remember all those times when you’d turn to look back at me from amongst the crowd of people that brought us together and kept us apart, to laugh at one of my stupid jokes. Your eyes would sometimes meet mine and my heart would then skip a beat. Sometimes they’d just travel the length of my face, looking for something. At those times, my lips would quiver a bit, be a little too self-conscious about the half smile they’d put on my face. My eyes, then, would look into yours while yours wandered over my awkward smile. My heart would start knocking hard at the wall of concrete emptiness that separated you from me, making my whole being quiver a little as it urged me to scream out to you. I’d die a little, knowing this moment would soon be over, knowing we’d continue to live as though this moment never happened. I’d die a little as we’d go back to being one of those people that brought us together and kept us apart, and nothing more.
The sweetness dissipates. There are druids in the train station, witches in the bus depot. There is enchantment luring away the gatekeepers of the sacred seminaries of our most sacred religion. There are wind tunnels with words that trap the clever minded and the movie-maker wannabes. (Nobody is guarding the streets. Nobody is watching the wisdom children.) With a sweep of a hand, the conductor shifts the tone. With the nod of his head, the admiral orders the troops. With the squint of her eye, the romance addict puffs up the narcissistic scholar, just to deflate him with her cold steel lance. The sweetness dissipates. The plates are on fire and there is no food in your pantry. And now the sweetness is gone, the tone has shifted, the troops go marching by.