What is a protest? A valiant act of defiance against insurmountable odds? What is love, if not the ultimate aggressor upon our pour souls in life? Why corroborate when you can protest?
This book was written to be read, reread, taken along in a back pocket, on a plane, to be left on a train and forgotten in coffee shops around the world. One day it to will be ashes...just like you.
It's not essentially relevant but maybe useful to know that this book was written by hand in many parts and transcribed with the latest technologies (a laptop).
The full force of life had griped me by her unending rivers of opportunity. Every day is a bright new emotion pulling our desolation and forlorn fears into the calm sunshine of eternity. We in the world are interconnected on so many levels as to defy infinity. The people you walk by, the ones on TV, in your mind, in fragmented thoughts, we make each other complete and think we're all strangers. This book is just another connection, something to unite and invigorate the human spirit.
Conceived as a piece of Gonzo persuasion, it’s meant to toe the divide between perception and event rather than purely recording the facts as they transpired. The truth is: recording and remembering facts is a shady business calling for precision and exactness. Attributes the current writer does not possess and has expressed no desire to acquire.
The players in this production are the same as ever before. They’ve performed this act a thousand times from the dawn of civilization. Names and faces may appear to be different, but the universal telling of this tale is fermented into the redundant collective history. So don’t be disappointed when you don’t find anything new.
It’s permissible in fact, that these thoughts have been writing themselves for the past thirty years and they all just seemed to come together at this precise moment. Exclusive of the reader’s reaction, no truth or inspiration should be gleamed from these pages, for they will soon exist only in your memories.
Goldfish can only remember things for a few minutes, so they can swim around their tiny worlds and are always surprised by the same fake seaweed and plastic castles. Most people break up because they can't forget the pain they feel from their past. We have big brains compared with goldfish, now imagine how whales with their big, big brains and complex neural pathways must feel when they get dumped.
This book has nothing to do with love or remorse or imagination or inspiration or advancement of the human race. This is a step backwards - a mistake, and now I can never leave. I'm trapped inside, and nothing except for the copyright is real.