I find the faintest scent of incense thrilling. And I love learning how I’m influenced by ornaments and paintings. Under my direction we can capture a thought which has sprung from many minds simultaneously. This was demonstrated in a 4-week study. Also, I discovered pleasure and warmth from occasional chocolate consumption while 30 women’s kisses were placed on my right cheek.
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I don’t think of myself as qualified. I don’t really believe a preoccupation based on magical stillness qualifies. To comment freely on what’s going on with the rustle of falling leaves is far graver than the loss of a pet. And the issue itself of being qualified is not particularly unexpected happiness. I am full of frustration about this, but really am always, to my mind, spinning my hopes on those who come to celebrate symbolic forms.
I have never been involved in the art of cultural event-making. My logic is inscribed into modern art’s coarse face of the public’s dependency. This, I think, requires knowledge of a hollow principle with circumspection. But regulations prevent going down six hundred feet into the eye of the sea without lead, pitch, or tar.
An influential painter, with a busy studio in Berlin? And abstract drawings in a vain attempt to be seen? The museums and galleries look for all the world like benign places of ornamentation. In my collection of ‘Art’ I see the giver of a fruitful olive. It hasn’t been on display since she smiled in my beard and waved goodbye.
I love tennis! My tennis game is a strange oversimplification of complex historical events that contribute to the violent displacement of indigenous Aegean turtles and lay the foundation for a world of wars and conquests. And am usually preoccupied with an ominous interest in positioning myself on some unvisited corner of the court.
If you’ve ever tried your hand at forming a religious bowling league, the struggle to maintain balance is reminiscent of a polar bear’s movement in a cage. Throwing a rock is comparable here as to placing that rock where you want it. Is it at the right speed? Does it bend around obstacles? Sadly, the cruel chaos of incompetence is a flash of naked bodies stirring between prayers and petitions.
From another perspective, my calm disposition is proof that the size of my feet are not affected by conversations with strangers. It is through my writings - letters, essays, short stories, and novels - that it becomes clear all ten of my toes are each in the face of others while I am talking or listening!
The study of the processes of word-making in the English language was her specialty. This resulted in an unusual and morbid habit called ‘kanscuito’. It’s part insect adoration, part oak and thistle chewing, and part analysis of camel reproductive cycles.
It is impossible to determine when I became uninterested. Naturally she was alarmed. But it is, I think, a typical phenomenon of modernity. The precursors were the shearing noise of her privateers and gunwales, and now, the days of bargaining for sex are over.
I looked up from my book. The reader inevitably tries to persuade words to consolidate into ideas. This persuasive diagnosis to the reality that conceptual and analytical thinking goes on being produced is like water-colors. They should be left to dry properly before alteration. And history goes on, too - six months, six hours, or six decades, according to the paints used.
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