I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.
Month: April 2024
Understanding Creators & Entrepreneurs
_why the lucky stiff once tweeted:
when you don’t create things, you become defined by your tastes rather than ability. your tastes only narrow & exclude people. so create.
Forget the bit about excluding people. The important point here is: create. Creating something with your own hands and deriving joy out of it transcends almost all other pleasures known to man. At the same time, its sometimes difficult to be a creative person… to be disturbed, and questioned and ridiculed and shunned. To be unlike many others.
This is a small note in defence of creators and entrepreneurs.
A Crime of Passion
I am guilty of a terrible crime of passion. Or a crime of terrible passion. I must confess to it and raise my voice against my confirmed persecution. And decide to die a complete martyr to it.
Look Up
I looked up, into the mirror
Saw that I’d become,
A missing patron of darkness
With a soul so very numb.
I feel this mirror is cracked
It hides the threads that cause
Hovac, load, stress, toil
And ‘tacks at others’ jaws.
I try to gaze into it’s depths
So I can trap the cracker
Who’s trying to make me believe
I’m just a lowly slacker.
How do I judge, if what you show
Is the real truth to me
Broken mirror, with a dark demeanour
Fix yourself quickly.
Is there a place where I can gaze
To check the root of a soul
Can’t befriend a cracked mirror
Which tries to map black holes.
— written circa 2016
“Not Waving but Drowning” – Stevie Smith
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.