There I am below. As I was centuries ago. A collage, and below that a self portrait based on a 5th grade class photo. So innocent yet already aware of the strangeness of the world that was devouring me.
I bring this up because like everyone these days I'm so uncertain. Angry fearful confused. Take our old friend beauty. These images on my page I sometimes post. Color nature artistry. I feel these are lies. There is no beauty.
It's generated digitally.
That is I see actual beauty so rarely living in the most complex city in the world that I've sometimes come to believe that it really does not exist. It's all of it as some are suspecting a vast Matrix-like fraud.
Everything that our brain perceives is the product of our various sensing organs. Our meatloaf turns that garbled static into the three dimensional realms we call reality.
Yeah Philosophic B.S. 101.
I know. Still there it is. I feel like I'm coming apart. My senses are separating, and the meatloaf is now questioning the reality of all that inconsistent a-tonal static it's getting. In the old days I'd just have some peyote, and calm down.
These days one is high, and dry with only our questionable data input to hang onto. That little boy that I used to be had similar problems. He questioned reality too.