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The Places You Found LoveEveryone, but you especially as a woman, is biologically programmed to find babies cute. It's an evolutionary imperative, because the rational thing to do when you've got a screaming, shitting dependant taking up your food, is to kill it, and we need something to stop us doing that. It's also why people are generally attracted to big eyes and smooth skin - because they're characteristics of children.
And I'm not saying this to detract from the beauty of parenthood, or to make you sad, I'm saying it to point out that this fact doesn't make a baby's laugh any less wonderful. And I don't think the source of anything can make it less so.
This is why I can point out that any form of love isn't God or fate or destiny, it's that if two people have a strong emotional attachment, their children are more likely to survive.
Atomic bombs are beautiful.
So I will say that the me I am now, will and always has been feeling what I feel, but that sentence doesn't even make sense until we consider that
The Reasons We DieWhat I meant to say was that sometimes I just stare at the cigarette in my hands and beg for it to stop messing around and just kill me already.
But I figured you don't want to hear that.
The Shifting Nature of RealityYou asked me, "In these dreams, what does it look like?" I told you it looks different every time. Sometimes it's like a million feathers falling, sometimes it's like snow, sometimes it's like little stones, sometimes like ash, sometimes like a fine sand blowing across the hills. It's always silent. It falls around me but it never touches me. It never sticks. I told you sometimes I see dim figures walking in the distance through all the falling white. I told you I wish one would turn around and come to me. I wish one had your face. I wish the pink of your cheeks and blue of your eyes would appear to me unveiled from out of the drift. But the sad small figures don't turn around. They walk on, shoulders low, and disappear. I just watch them. You said, "I'm here now," and touched my hand. "I'm here now."
The Time Gone ByTick tock. All day. Every day is tick tocking by. There is no clock in your office that ticks or tocks, but you can hear the tick tock in your head. Tick. That's another second of your life gone, you think. Tock. That's one more second waiting for the man to tell you what to do. Tick. I'm a thinker, you think. Tock. Time to be a doer. Tick. You walk into your boss' office. Tock. I quit.
The clock stops.
The NuancePlay it one more time please, I need to hear it again. I need to make sure that its the only sound in my head. Play it again for me, I want to hear it once more. I want to make sure the only sound is correct. I don't want to hear that stare again. I don't want to see those words. I'll play the part again, I need to play it again. I need to make sure that every note is right. Give me a second to rehearse that part once more, I haven't been playing it right this entire time. I know it might sound right to you, but it doesn't sound right to me. I can't hear those words anymore. I never want to see that stare again. I have to keep playing. I never want to hear that again.
The Silence Goes On For YearsIn case of emergency, break glass. Throw plates. Cave to the insecurities you've harbored all along. Scream. Curse. Panic. Accuse her of never loving you, even though you know she did and still does. Tell her you never loved her. Tell yourself. Feel the world crumbling around you. Rip the rest of it down. Ignore her pleas. Her tears. Your regrets. Watch yourself leave, unable to stop your own feet. Slam the door. Keep walking. Realize, too late, that you didn't mean it.
The Art of Finding FlawsMaybe that's all it means, to grow up; to watch your heroes become human, right before your eyes.
the Millennia LaterDesolation has its own stark beauty. It's in the limbs of dead trees twisting up, pleading at the grey sky. It's in the air, cold with a faint hint of smoke and the barest breeze that stirs up the dust at your feet. The white-grey ash falls like snowflakes, dusting your hair, your coat, your mask. You catch one of the flakes and it crumbles between your gloved fingers. The ground is packed as hard as concrete under your boots as you turn your back on this cold, still world. You look up; the moon is barely visible. You will carry that memory with you as you go back underground. Mankind no longer has use for the stars.
A Few of My Thoughts on Atheism and ScienceFor me, personally, I have always loved nature.
I have found it captivating and breathtaking my entire life.
But once I came to the conclusion that my ideals were best suited to an atheist viewpoint nature became so much more incredible.
The massive trees, the outrageous insects, the fantastic beasts, and the thundering waterfalls; they weren’t the will of a divine being or a magical force unseen.
They just were.
Because science. Fuck you, that’s why.
And how cool is that?
How cool is it that we don’t NEED almighty intervention or a powerful deity to get all of this?
All of these colors and emotions and all of the cosmos and every blade of grass in the ground and hair on your head is just because it is.
Because that’s just the way it evolved to be.
It is so incredibly logical and seemingly random and entrancingly gorgeous.
No one put the stars in the sky, no one painted the butterfly’s wings.
Nothing told the rain the fall, or taught the fish
The SpotlightEaster Sunday, 1993, Bernhard Langer won the Master golf tournament. As he stepped off the 18th green to receive the green jacket-one of golf’s most coveted prizes-a reporter said, “This must be the greatest day of your life!” Without missing a beat, Langer replied: “It’s wonderful to win the greatest tournament in the world, but it means more to win on Easter Sunday-to celebrate the resurrection of my Lord and Savior.”
Langer had an opportunity to boast about himself, but instead he turned the spotlight on Jesus Christ. It’s exactly what Paul was talking about when he said, “We also rejoice [boast] in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have no received the reconciliation” (Romans 5:11).
It’s easy to look for ways to draw attention to our own accomplishments, making mental lists of this that are “cool” about ourselves. Even Paul admitted that he has a lot to brag about-but he considered all of it
Anthropomorphicise ThisAnthropomorphicise this
As huemanity developed, the concept of the Eternal Almighty was over-rationalized, not only to the point of Christianity/Judaism or Scientology, but simply to tell the hueman mind, to placate it, that the Divine Force is not something truly alien. This world was made for consumers and posturists. The age now, only compounds that age-old desire for the Housewife to be secured by the Matriarch.
StandbyI'd rather put my life on standstill avoiding mistakes
than put the lives of others on standstill making them.
Where Art Thou, Purity? (A Thought on Good Friday)
As I sit here at 2:50 AM on April 18, 2014— the morning of Good Friday— I am called to remember Jesus Christ's sacrifice for us. That He bled and died so that when each of us faced our Judgment Day, we could hear the Almighty Judge hand down a verdict of "not guilty" for all of the sins that we have committed is simply overwhelming. No man comes to the Father except through the sacrifice and blood of Christ, but it seems that much— in fact, most— of the world has turned their backs on Him. The fact of the matter is that people enjoy reveling in their sin and they enjoy not having an eternal authority figure to answer to. They are of the mindset that if they don't believe in any "God," then they don't have to pay any eternal consequences because if God doesn't exist, then neither do said consequences. That could not be further from the truth. The truth is that whether or not you believe in or submit to the Will of God, the consequences of such b
The writer in godAmong artists I believe there are a few things that unite them all. Art itself is complex thing and the making of it consists mostly of struggling to go beyond your own capabilities and postponing the wish to hang yourself. Artists make the most beautiful things; one might paint a work of art more beautiful than the reality, or sculpt something so extraordinary that you wish it were just a little bit more alive. Now some might want to argue, but written word is no different. We writers can sketch situations just as well as any painter. It is just through different means.
So I want to sketch a scene here for you. I will start with some silly lines and vague impressions.
Let’s say there was once a powerful being, an omnipotent creature, so imaginative and so creative that he had the universe at his fingertips. And If I must believe that which is written down in the bible explains that god created the world and mankind in seven days. Then we are a form of art are we not? We come for
We are not as smart as we think"The truth is we’re are not as smart as we think we are because we’re making the same damn mistakes. Now people are uncertain; and that’s okay; because when people don’t know where to go they ask directions and when there’s no one to ask they follow their own instincts; they make their own maps. And that’s the best we can do right now.”
The Magian store. ProloguePrologue. Hidden piece of the story of creation
Having read a few years ago, "Alice in Wonderland", I was suddenly filled again the emotions that I felt through this wonderful adult "children" story.
The other day I thought, despite the age and condition of the person, he likes toys. Yes, you may think it's stupid and too naive. But, in my opinion, the child lives in the soul of each person. Yes, some people claim that their soul very firmly settled adult and experienced people. Again error. In my heart there is no adult, there is only a child, but a little grown-up.
He sits in a comfortable recliner with a cup of cocoa in hand; old warm blanket carefully covers the shoulders of the child, warming them; dry wood crackling in the fireplace; dancing shadows on the floor of the quiet flames decorate big soft carpet; and only lie on the floor of the old toy.
Well, perhaps, you have presented me with the image of the child matured. But I want to note that each person lives his kid at
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More