Status Updates From Surge

A simple question can raise reality’s temperature.

Napoleon was indeed the Spirit of the World, as Hegel had wanted him to be, of its ever youthful violence, and mega-weapons followed, and dying lost meaning.

Comprehensibility has nothing to do with the real.

Thoughts are metallic and melt in salt water. Their frequency increases the melancholy, the pervading melancholy.
Meaning is ephemeral.
The world reverberates its disorder, creates waves of determination.
A lit candle can bring out the whole absurdity of victories.
We have a few certitudes to lay our shoulders on, and still we go on opening the shutters, welcoming friends … in cities left-over by wars …

« The light fades over my years and theaters close. With its sense of reality narrowed to a thread, my mind wanders beyond the twenty-four hours of the day. There isn’t much I can do. »

“People breathe heavily between the old nightmare and the dullness of the day. A simple question can raise reality’s temperature.
The moon is more than I am, but she can’t give more than what she is.”

😮‍💨

Your identity is your prison.

Paradise is certainly a bore, unless it’s still a garden. Solitude doesn’t make for better thinking. Unfortunately. It can thicken the air, yes, it can do that.