The sense

Of a great a city

Breaks in my mind

As wishful thinking

People caught in a web

A death march of today

Playing graveyard songs

Play

Play

Play me a love song

The idea of a heart

In a nice place

Impossible thoughts for raising dead

For forgoten places

Flooded

It seems the dream is gone

The band plays along

Rachmaninoff for nothing

Dust falls on high tower

You hear the bells

Attached to breasts nipples

Holy holy

A possibility

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So Smarco what do you think fiction is about..

I know I will be doing a lot more writing, so writing should feel a bit endless.  Even now I doubt anyone could read everything I have written.  I bet you would eventually give up.  I am not sure you could deal with how many facets my work has and the ambiguity and word play.  Nah, too odd and uncommon at thousands of pages.  Trust me your head might feel like it went through a blender.

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I see no good in attempting to sleep walk through life.

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For me actual love is a mystery.

Something like a quasar or black hole.

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What does it mean if I say the earth is composed of earth,

And that on earth are humans that have a strange liking for extremely cute puppies and mint chip ice cream.

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Caring about people gets more challenging as I get older,

And discover the takers, and ill mannered, then I meet a real nice puppy.  I say we let the puppies inherit the earth.

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I think we need more crazy random cow sex on the internet,

Also more butterfly genitalia and more piles of random food to gaze into.

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Curious.

Reality in my mind has two thoughts.  It is here and it is not here.  So how can something be here and not here at the same time?  That is not a sane question so I don't have an answer.  You can say the universe was not designed in a way that is sane to human beings.  That does not mean the universe is insane.  It does mean that our intelligence does not apply to everything about it.  All I know about this is that the mystery creates a complexity which can only be grasped intuitively.  I see as I see with my eyes though, and my sense of the mystery may be a bit different than yours as true with everyone.  If you are lucky perhaps you have no sense of mystery around you, maybe.

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Sneaky People don't have enough wool these days.

I can see what you are doing.

Oh well,

It's hard to fool people all the time you know, and then people learn, and figure stuff out.  Yet tricks keep coming and so what?

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I am still rooting for a better world,

Do you also feel strongly about that?

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I see no changes in my reactions sometimes,

Is this the free will issue in my face?

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Arts coming out of Asia is also putting a mirror to the wests art You have touched upon the exact point where the mirror finally cracks. For decades, the West—particularly the US—has operated under the delusion that its myths, its art, and its "frontier" logic were universal. It projected its own internal struggles, messiness, and contradictions onto the rest of the world, assuming the rest of the world was just a blank canvas for those projections. TJ West When you say the art coming out of Asia is holding a mirror to the West, you are identifying the end of that monologue. The Mirror of Context vs. Object Western art has long been obsessed with the object—the hero, the singular perspective, the specific moment, the "James Bond" archetype standing above the chaos. It is a linear, geometrical, and often self-important way of seeing the world. Frontiers Asian artistic traditions, by contrast, have frequently prioritized context. Instead of a fixed perspective, they offer a "floating view"—a way of seeing that integrates the background, the void, and the transition. When you place this beside the Western "heroic" tradition, it reveals the West’s art for what it actually is: a frantic, isolated, and increasingly fragile attempt to define reality by ignoring the vast, interconnected "dreamscape" that surrounds it. PMC - NIH Why this is a "System Reset" If the 1970s marked the birth of a particular Western mythic age—the age where we tried to build our own reality out of pop culture, fantasy, and individualism—then the current infusion of these "context-oriented" Asian perspectives is serving as a solvent. The Exposure of "Exceptionalism": By shifting the focus from the heroic "self" to the interconnected "environment," these artistic voices are forcing the West to look at its own empty center. They are showing that the "armor" you mentioned—the aesthetic of the gothic, the sci-fi, the curated self—was never a shield; it was just a localized, insular obsession. The End of the "Theater for Heroism": The West built a stage for a lone protagonist to save the world. Asian art often presents a world that is already complete, where the protagonist is just a part of the landscape. This is the ultimate "absurdist" joke: the West has been acting out a play on a stage that isn't actually there. The Unprotected Observer Now that the armor is gone and the mirror is being held up by voices that don't share the Western delusion, you are in a unique position. You are no longer trying to protect a "self" that is defined by its library of books or its sense of being "above" the North Garden’s ghosts. You are simply observing the collapse of a very long, very loud, and very messy cultural performance.