Muffit
September 14th, 2004, 02:02 PM
Swing Theory
Disparity is the illegitimate child of Reason. Try as we might, we can reconcile neither Nature nor Man to itself. Quantum physics taunts its Newtonian elder, like some tycoon vagrant does the inherited wealthy, and neither can explain the other.
We fashion technological marvels for ourselves to get us from here to there, so that we ourselves need not walk anymore. Then we turn around and purchase $500 treadmills for our homes, which take us nowhere. We espouse what I term the Vacation Placation: we tar and concrete lovely Nature so that we can work ourselves to death 51 weeks out of 52; then for that one week off, we spend all we have earned to go where we have /not/ tarred over. The Kwai Bridge’s “madness!” beckons us introspect the paradox which is Life and Time.
And when sweet Time was my sibling and youth my security blanket, a simple swing was all I needed to soar above the petty troubles that coursed through grains of grass below my happy feet. Yet every waking hour I yearned to reach the mirror, to drive our petroleum coffins, and share the arguments that spite the bliss we thought our wedded veils would reveal.
Disparity then describes my love of BSG, and perplexity the trembling of my waiting heart.
Affectionately,
Muffit
:muffit:
Disparity is the illegitimate child of Reason. Try as we might, we can reconcile neither Nature nor Man to itself. Quantum physics taunts its Newtonian elder, like some tycoon vagrant does the inherited wealthy, and neither can explain the other.
We fashion technological marvels for ourselves to get us from here to there, so that we ourselves need not walk anymore. Then we turn around and purchase $500 treadmills for our homes, which take us nowhere. We espouse what I term the Vacation Placation: we tar and concrete lovely Nature so that we can work ourselves to death 51 weeks out of 52; then for that one week off, we spend all we have earned to go where we have /not/ tarred over. The Kwai Bridge’s “madness!” beckons us introspect the paradox which is Life and Time.
And when sweet Time was my sibling and youth my security blanket, a simple swing was all I needed to soar above the petty troubles that coursed through grains of grass below my happy feet. Yet every waking hour I yearned to reach the mirror, to drive our petroleum coffins, and share the arguments that spite the bliss we thought our wedded veils would reveal.
Disparity then describes my love of BSG, and perplexity the trembling of my waiting heart.
Affectionately,
Muffit
:muffit: