by chromas
"Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from - it’s where you take them to."
The way it works
Pessimism and judgemental observation by a group is enlivening and addictive. Regardless if ones ethics snub such behaviour, the mob mentality denotes its sovereignty even upon the strongest of moral acquisition. It is exhausting to not only focus on reading the level of distress in the group, assessing the severity issue, swiftly rearranging ones pillar of ethical perspective and then landing a one liner that will crown you king.
Horrible, but in many ways such behaviour makes you an unbiased opinionator, a rapid thinker, a social sleuth, and a shape shifter. All fine qualities to have as a person who aims to have reputable status in life and business. But the guilt when given head space to reflect on ones hypocritical interjections signals that it is unjust to behave in such a way.
I shape shifted throughout high school and was constantly repositioning my opinion and alliances in order to have status and a clean appeal. But my trail and loose ends caught up with me. Once a single person finds a snag in your quilt it effortlessly falls apart and you are left wondering how you lost everything so quickly.
But this is also a learning curve, and while it was one of the most emotionally damning experiences of my life (because it wasn’t something I HAD to deal with, I brought it upon myself) my first instinct was to swindle my way out of it, rather than choosing the clean route of apologies and times healing hand.
But alas that is what I did.
Now when I see other’s still practicing the same form of social espionage I feel pity, because the glory of cracking codes, wearing disguises can only last so long. It’s upon two peoples cross examining of stories that don’t aline properly that one is then unmasked.
And I want to say stop, but they need to fall. I needed to fall and I feel much stronger because of it now. I’ve grown accustomed to holding my toung and watching as a third party. In ways I feel much more powerful as the silent observer then the ‘highly intellectual commentator”, in this silly game of “who can make the deepest, psycho analytical, most critical observation.” I have better friends and have come to learn who my truest friends were after I waited for the storm I made to settle. They forgave me, even after all I had done, and treated me with the same love and compassion as before.
There’s a lot of people in the world, it’s worth holding true to ones values and meeting like minded people then exhausting yourself in the game of it all.
Old story.
But story of my life non the less.
sarahswire
"
“I had become wiser, I tried to find out what irony really is, and discovered that some ancient writer on poetry had spoken of “Ironia, which we call the drye mock.” And I cannot think of a better term for it: The drye mock. Not sarcasm, which is like vinegar, or cynicism, which is so often the voice of disappointed idealism, but a delicate casting of cool and illuminating light on life, and thus an enlargement. The ironist is not bitter, he does not seek to undercut everything that seems worthy or serious, he scorns the cheap scoring-off of the wisecracker. He stands, so to speak, somewhat at one side, observes and speaks with a moderation which is occasionally embellished with a flash of controlled exaggeration. He speaks from a certain depth, and thus he is not of the same nature as the wit, who so often speaks from the tongue and no deeper. The wit’s desire is to be funny; the ironist is only funny as a secondary achievement.”
― Robertson Davies, The Cunning Man
"genius. he is a genius.
by verginer.com
by jaymug
