Ask ten readers what a book is and you will get ten metaphors and no definitions. A mirror, they say, or a door, or a passageway with footfalls behind it. The metaphors flatter the reader and obscure the object. None of them tell you what is sitting on your shelf, dark and patient, while you sleep. Here is the answer. A book is stored sun.
The sun is danger and invective. The moon is hope and narcissism. We turn our eyes to the moon, and we see a man staring back; we turn our heads to the sun and are blinded by the daring. The moon soothes. The sun punishes. The moon beams and becomes us. The sun burns and loathes us. We have dipped a human toe in moon dust. We have now, finally, eyed the fiery sun, up close, but through a glass darkly.
News broke this week that shattered our world of understanding about the sun above us. Often a golden totem of warmth and richness, NASA now shows us our sun is really a fiery swirl of burnt azure and glistening turquoise: More blue natural gas flame than crackling orange ember.
Today is Elvis Presley’s 75th birthday and instead of celebrating him, we instead must deal with our woe in missing him, and in coping with what he left behind, and we’re left this way because of his his selfishness in drug addiction.
The Heene Balloon Boy Hoax has gone on long enough to demonstrate nobody really tells the truth any longer when pressed for a confession of fact; and the experience confirms the mainstream media will swallow any hollow story plowing fallow ground as long as it flies and implies some sort of innocent death.
Is there such a thing as an original idea? Or have all inspirations already been had? Are all thoughts actually the result of cannibalization?
Continue reading → Nothing New Under the Sun and the Cannibalization of Ideas
The sun is not good for you. At one time, maybe twenty or thirty years ago, a tan was stylish and chipper. No longer. Sun on your skin is your enemy and the enemy of your children and your pets. You must fight the sun to the death before the sun kills you first. Several years ago I had a red mark under my left eye.
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