Once upon a time, only the greatest of magicians has the power to see into the crystal ball and spy on future, or, as in some cases, other users of crystal balls (*hkhm*palantir*hkhm*).... Only great sages had wisdoms unimaginable and could name all the stars and all the wise thoughts whispered by the great before us. Only the worst of righteous masters could stop time, capture essences and keep an eternal beauty at an arm's length.
Well, fuck it. Lately I've been doing that every day before I walk my dog.
I love my toys. I love them almost more than anything else. There is no nostalgia, no tranquility, no peace of mind that could rival how I feel amidst my earthly possessions. I spy every morning on the thoughts of other crystal ball users (=read their blogs) over coffee, checks the front line of Wiki articles and so forget what I was looking for in the first place - wise thoughts of sages - and watch the downloaded shows or articles of things larger-than-life, frozen in time. I take photos every day. I record sounds and movement, I even capture some of the scents and fragments that share the viewpoint with the foundations of the Earth. I do that every day, without planning it. If I do not know the name of the star, named by some cool Greek guy that stared at the same one 3000 years before me, all I have to do is flip out an iPad or iPhone or even just my beaten old Ericsson and check. Even without all my books, without my pencils and my papers, with only just what I have in my backpack now, tonight, in this forest side, on this hill slope, under the stars, I could rule the universe if I wanted to. But I chose to lay here and chat with you. I *choose* to be your bedmate in the bed of quietness and stillness and artificial ignorance that feels as good as a thin blanket. I know they are just toys. It is only because the likes of you that I hold human race above all else in my personal esteem. 'Twasn't always so, but it is lately. In the old days I could have stayed the voyeur of other people's greatness until my dying hour, but not today. People first, then toys. On distant third perhaps, a Buddhist sheep shepherd's peace of mind and a good meal.
Well, fuck it. Lately I've been doing that every day before I walk my dog.
I love my toys. I love them almost more than anything else. There is no nostalgia, no tranquility, no peace of mind that could rival how I feel amidst my earthly possessions. I spy every morning on the thoughts of other crystal ball users (=read their blogs) over coffee, checks the front line of Wiki articles and so forget what I was looking for in the first place - wise thoughts of sages - and watch the downloaded shows or articles of things larger-than-life, frozen in time. I take photos every day. I record sounds and movement, I even capture some of the scents and fragments that share the viewpoint with the foundations of the Earth. I do that every day, without planning it. If I do not know the name of the star, named by some cool Greek guy that stared at the same one 3000 years before me, all I have to do is flip out an iPad or iPhone or even just my beaten old Ericsson and check. Even without all my books, without my pencils and my papers, with only just what I have in my backpack now, tonight, in this forest side, on this hill slope, under the stars, I could rule the universe if I wanted to. But I chose to lay here and chat with you. I *choose* to be your bedmate in the bed of quietness and stillness and artificial ignorance that feels as good as a thin blanket. I know they are just toys. It is only because the likes of you that I hold human race above all else in my personal esteem. 'Twasn't always so, but it is lately. In the old days I could have stayed the voyeur of other people's greatness until my dying hour, but not today. People first, then toys. On distant third perhaps, a Buddhist sheep shepherd's peace of mind and a good meal.
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