Cold hard blog facts
Writing under censorship always fascinated me. It seemed so courageous, somehow, and so clever - veiling all those secret references and sneaking all those inane injokes past the state censors. But now that so many people, everywhere, are writing up such a haze, such elaborate and flimsy smoke-screens, I feel compelled to speak plainly. I feel compelled, to slice through the haze.
There is something all visitors to this blog must know - there are two distinct types of fabrication. One is cast in paid laboratories, and supplemented by trusting happenstance individuals. The other is composed by systematic (predictable in it's chaos) anarchy, and supplemented by trusting happenstance individuals. Please, Phoebus, may anyone visiting this site have the wisdom to know the difference and the courage to call both on their bluff.
I suppose it's just one of those quantum ironies that while Truth is smeared almost beyond recognition by war, the ugly truth buried within humanities psyche is also exposed by war. How can anyone deny that blood and flesh are real. No less when it is your own. And so, the wounded pile up all around, in body, in spirit, in mind, broken, the world over. Questioning profit and motive without moving a lip. Filling makeshift graves with impromptu and unplanned retrospective, mutely oblivious to the fantasies "time" will twine together in tomorrow's headlines. For the news hungry, truth dolled out by dieticians. The world wide web's gut rumbles, undernourished. There is no substance in deceit.
And so some of us, find comfort in these things. In the ugly, the burnt out, the misspelled and the real cold hard pinch as we sting ourselves back to conscience with brutal imagery and the courage to face our dead. The Frey to publish, least I be haunted by saccharine memory and half soaked oily columns justifying war.