.aside time exists in the plurality of ones thoughts. why do we not get stuck on one thought alone? imperfection drives the world. perfection is absolute, imperfection is relative. imperfection drives the passage of time. time thus does not apply to he who is perfect. we strive for perfection but perfection does not exist within our nature of being. we are linear. we find equilibria and we optimise. perfection implies oneness. are we all one and the same? is perfection the absence of imperfection or...? if something encompassed all, never began and will never end, is it not perfect in itself? it is all than can exist, thus whatever form it takes it is perfect since there is no alternative conception.

.backstage melancholic hey ok. the world isn't all mere gloom and doom as reflected in my prior posts. well, it's just that i'm of the opinion that popular press, being popular press, tends to indulge in broad but selective reporting, systematically discounting the extent of the bad karma abound. and popular press, in fulfilling its role as ubiquitous friendly information provider to the proletariat, also inductively sets most the agenda of what is discussed amongst the masses and hence, through the incredible democratic apparatus, what is of concern to politicians and their all-important ratings. correspondents thrive on sudden shifts (drama), not ebbs nor status quos (no drama). the problem is that not everything of real value is exciting as say, the psycadelic shape-shifting chameleon that is american foreign policy, or kim jong il and his totally out-of-this-world haircut. As a result the coverage, though geographically diverse, is but detailed information about peaks, troughs and notable steep gradients, with much of the baseflow discounted. prolonged ethnic strife, shortage of food, chronic disease in africa and the third-world, social wastage elsewhere, are all very much part of reality. but since they have been reported before and not much has changed since, then we shall keep it in the dog-eared 'others' folio till, if ever, the fireworks begin. it's akin to sitting on death row in california, when it happens you die, au reviour dude, if not you just waste away bit by bit, statistic by statistic, in line, unseen and forgotten. unlike death row though, the under-current of vice and suffering does not waste away, rather it grows. and grows. slowly but with gathering destructive potential. it is a practice of great folly to ignore or give mere token mention to these baseflows, in a bid to cover even more of what i term 'big bang happenings' - obvious peaks, troughs and steep in-betweens, involving events that have already occured, or will occur in the inelastic short term, of which a relatively little can be done. not that i'm suggesting that we abandon these, only that there is much that can be done to seek a better balance incorporating a greater forward perspective, searching and illuminating ticking time bombs, obvious and not so obvious, and profiling their projected adverse consequences. a self-confessed backstage melancholic, i brood in gloom and doom in a bid to add my weight, little as it may be, to the end of the scale that tips toward greater reflection and caution. not that this is the panacea toward eliminating the evils of the world. perfect information we will never possess. but greater and more relevant information will go a long way to preempting and providing relief to this world's ills.

empty.

porcelain faces laced with smile.

fickle favour, reeds in windswept plains.

the dance of hands, lust given form.

empty.



the chase of oblivion, sweet excess.

ashen society, drones among smokestacks.

entombed, smelt in wanton greed. it festers,

so empty.

.we are all power rangers now society reaps in the future what it sows in the present. it's all quite scary really. do you have a kid? well i don't but i do have 2 younger brothers and frankly, they're all power rangers now. splendid. in pink, blue, white and what-ever-else-colours there may be. and like every brainless episode they do the same stuff over and over and over and over again. week in week out - school, math tuition, piano lessons, tv, science tution, speech class, computer games, dreaded chinese tuition, more tv. ditto. a kid's life has changed so much over the past decade and a half, but not for the better i'd reckon. in a strict material sense they definitely have more than we did. but as always there's a tradeoff and i fear that some of the most important non-material influences have been overtly sacrificed - relationships, warmth, care, concern, surprises, fun. there are only 24 hrs in any day. and it doesn't help that parents are, 1. ever more caught up in making that extra buck, 2. ever more resigned that more tution, tv and computer games are the natural order of a kid's day. my guess is that 1. and 2. feed on each other, justifying and reinforcing a cycle of increasing disengagement. commoditisation pervades a kid's life, so much so that even he himself has become reduced to a mere object, albeit one with a huge recurrent price tag attached. 'tell it to go there, ask it to do this, we have no time for what it wants, this is all for it's own good, i'm too tired for it, leave it with the maid, why is it's your score so low?'. i'm a firm believer that the adult is a product of his experiences as a kid, his disposition, outlook towards life, how comfortable he is with people, temprement, drive. teenagerhood and beyond accentuates these rather than alters them at base. how many in the power ranger generation have caught fishes in drains? and have fallen into them? played police and thief with his neighbours? cites enid blyton as his favourite author and sesame street as his favourite program? a minority i'd think. not to say the list above is much to shout about, or that my generation had it great - leave that for another time. what i'm highlighting is that things have taken a good few steps in the wrong direction since. they're all power rangers now. in due time, we will all be power rangers now. after that, the teletubbies?



.hear cesaria evora - nha cancera ka tem medida (deep forest single version), duncan sheik - daylight (album), the streets - weak become heroes (ashley beedle's love bug vocal mix)

.first post it's a friday. i like fridays. but only because it beckons the arrival of saturday and sunday. then again it's only 2 days to monday again. perspectives. too much talk of war these days. the playground bully's rhetoric or a genuine campaign of responsibility to avert impending catastrophy? Possible explanations abound but only one increasingly probable outcome - that of war. with every additional troop mobilised the grim world ebbs towards further strife and confrontation. great. legitimised war. nevermind the many innocent lives that will be lost. grab a beer. celebrate. a triumph of multi-lateral consultative politiks. the un inspectors have found scarce evidence of non-compliance, but we know he's got them hidden in schools and hospitals. for the good of humanity we march into battle. oh yes that leaves the small question of what happens in iraq after that. and after iraq? 'tis a slippery slope indeed.


.aside the non-existance in reality of ideals. had a fleeting conversation with my cousin yesterday on diametrical probability. okay stupid big phrase that i invented in vanity. basically it's got to do with opposite effects stemming from a course of action. let's say i bought a cabbage. yup one cabbage. so i contend that whatever good that can be derived from the cabbage, +a +b +c +d +e, is always, with no exceptions in all cases, balanced by opposing negative elements that are, hypothetically, equal in collective magnitude, but of different natures, -w -x -y -z. distilled of circumstance, all actions are mechanical and possess the equal potential of good and bad, an innate balance. what differs though, is the probability, in given cirumstances, of each effect occuring. add the weighted probability of the good and compare to the bad, that's your new decision matrix. the hinge is on probability rather than an triumph of absolute goodness over badness. yes. boredom by my desk drives me so such extents.



questions.


a fleeting shadow on weary plaster,

worn, abused, misused.

shards. the pane falls, slowly.

deliberately. it hurts,

knowledge of the soon to be. anticipation.

sudden stillness, a field of wheat embellished in frame.

shades of grey. the shattering.

rewind damnit, rewind.