Five Days

In the midst of my radio show, keeping the sounds moderately coherent. Five Days to weigh the consequences of all my decisions so far. Hidden Resources, that sort of thing. Distributed access over a period of time. I run my fingers over multiple textures until I find the few that excite my sensibilities. People ask and I try to explain, but like so much in life, its a matter of subjectivity, a matter of personal preference. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. I never sit down and take things at face value, or attempt to move forward by discarding my dignity. Perhaps that's unpractical, why not just submit to convenience at every possible turn? Is it so much a meditation on the nature of work or the passage of an object through space that affects people so much? Striving for coherence in belabouring the act, what is left, a few pictures, picking up vibrations, the need for the perception of distance and cover. Marks in the sand. The flow of water. The constant pieces I must pick up every day in order to stay relevant, ony just. No, that's not it at all. You must know this already. I haven't even begun yet. Existence as the accumulation and assimilation, more or less, of knowledge---disparate and obscure, however you like to put it. The ones who feel alienated clearly don't work hard enough perhaps, otherwise they must legitimately involve themselves in other all consuming tasks. After all these years, and all I've heard out there, the pressure to conform exists for some. It would seem the opposite should occur, things are more eclectic, not less. I highly doubt the concept of safety is fully responsible for this either. Probably just laziness. Then again it is so easy to criticize. I've spent a lifetime swimming in rhetoric only to construct very little. Belligerent and determined, resurrecting the old for one last play.

Five Days left.