It’s a common phenomenon, I think, to find the creative muse hiding behind rocks whenever you get away from your computer. I find myself composing excellent fiction as I drive, for instance. A particular species of this curse fills up margins and empty places in my notebook during classes. Just for instance, todays output:
And Lo, the gospels shall be writ small in the margins and the empty spaces, in the times of quiet and boredom, yea, in the time of the chemistry lecture and the lull between classes.
And Lo, though the letters be illegible, HE shall know them, and translate them forth unto the NET, so that all shall know the truths revealed in the quiet spaces.
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I mean really, what else is there to do while someone drones on about stuff you already know? Truths do reveal themselves: in the exposed black bra strap of the girl in front of you, the spastic twitch of the guy two rows up - human truths, simple desires, simple biology. The truth is this, our human bodies are animal bodies,
e = 1.602×10^-19C, 9.1 x 10^-28g
with all the animal instinct we expect in any dog. We lust, want to touch, fuck, lick, smell, participate in the hormonal backwash. Our distinction is the awareness, the conscious observation and modification of our behavior - yet this very awareness, this conscious mind, is a biological system hormonal and chemical and raw.
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We are the minds of children in the bodies of animals, our only redeeming trait is potential.
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JJ Thompson, Plum Pudding
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I want to tattoo the truth across her skin so that she carries it always, and all who love beauty will be confronted.
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