it's funny how you set out to do something, and it turns itself around, takes on a mind of it's own and it become what you really needed it to be, yet nothing what you wanted it to be.
since i started this blog, it seems as though i've had absolutely nothing to tell you about my coffee shop.
but i do have so much to say about myself. now is that selfish?
e.b. white says it like this "The essayist is a self-liberated man, sustained by the childish belief that everything he thinks abot, everything that happens to him, is of general interest. He is a fellow who thoroughly enjoys his work, just as people who take bird walks enjoy their. Each new excursion of the essayist, each new attempt, differs from the last and takes him into new country. This delights him. Only a person who is congenitally self-centered has the effrontery and the stamina to write essays."
maybe my life is the most interesting thing you could spend your mid-summer afternoons reading about.
maybe i'd like to believe so.
maybe i can convince you so.
maybe if no one ever believes it, i will keep believing it and keep spilling my guts over your computer screen, and e.b. white and i will listen to bon iver together and rejoice in the beauty and stillness of writing about ones-self.
have you noticed that man is keenly selfish?
we've learned a dance called "selfishness" and we've learned it well.
we have no dancing partner,
it's a solo dance.
we dance about a room, spotted with beautiful white lights and beautifully decorated females and beautifully smelling males, but we never smell the male's aftershave and we never touch the female's pearls because we are focused on our own: smell, yet a distasteful one; apperance, yet a mere bramble in the bush.
we don't know how to be beautiful.
and we don't know how to see each other's beauty.
we just keep looking down at the floor, a mirrored reflection looking up, like one in a poorly lit room, pointing out all the flaws.
O! if only we'd look up and see the loves floating about the room around us!
O! then, only then, can we begin to understand the beautiful floating about in our scrubbish clothes.
O!and how it takes me aback! how can we possibly move our wilted, exasperated eyes from our mirrors when this is all that encompasses us?
O! it has a Name, The Name, and it's a Beautiful Name at that.
The Name has a much bigger mirror, which completely swallows our puny mirrors, and coats them with a fresh shaving of Yeast and Grape, which reflects to us only The Name, and our face grows dim.
"So then, turn your eyes upon Him, look full into His face and you will find that the things of earth will acquire a strange new dimness."
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