Apr 2016
Boxes
God in heaven how I hate Frank Lloyd Wright's creations. Not aesthetically mind you, just how his vision makes me feel. And deeper than that, how you act when you're in one of his buildings or stare at his work for too long. You lose a little vitality when you spend too much time staring at boxes arranged in different patterns. You start trying to arrange everything else into neat little lines and clearly defined delinations. Too long, and you start doing it to me, to us. You start acting how I did before we came together. And it scares me.
Death*
It's always strange watching people's reactions to death. Most of the time they get cold. They get analytical. The whole stages of grief thing I guess. Circumstances of the death play a part, as well as how close the dearly departed is/was to us. Leftover's from our Hellenistic roots maybe? A good death is one earned in pursuit of something. A death in battle, a death by drowning at sea, one earned in struggle. But deaths by freak accident seem too, Dickensian I suppose. A boy drowns in a pool while his dad is in the bathroom, a woman is crushed by a tree randomly falling on her kitchen in high winds, a man falls from a wooden ladder while cleaning a chimney, a church roof suddenly caves in on a whole congregation for no reason. Let's keep it all bottled up inside and pretend like there's some other option besides acceptance.
God in heaven how I hate Frank Lloyd Wright's creations. Not aesthetically mind you, just how his vision makes me feel. And deeper than that, how you act when you're in one of his buildings or stare at his work for too long. You lose a little vitality when you spend too much time staring at boxes arranged in different patterns. You start trying to arrange everything else into neat little lines and clearly defined delinations. Too long, and you start doing it to me, to us. You start acting how I did before we came together. And it scares me.
Death*
It's always strange watching people's reactions to death. Most of the time they get cold. They get analytical. The whole stages of grief thing I guess. Circumstances of the death play a part, as well as how close the dearly departed is/was to us. Leftover's from our Hellenistic roots maybe? A good death is one earned in pursuit of something. A death in battle, a death by drowning at sea, one earned in struggle. But deaths by freak accident seem too, Dickensian I suppose. A boy drowns in a pool while his dad is in the bathroom, a woman is crushed by a tree randomly falling on her kitchen in high winds, a man falls from a wooden ladder while cleaning a chimney, a church roof suddenly caves in on a whole congregation for no reason. Let's keep it all bottled up inside and pretend like there's some other option besides acceptance.
