Pain Pain Pain: Divine Guidance. December 20, 2019. 10:30 p.m. E. Lake Harding, Georgia USA
Driving home to the lake, retreat, repeat, my soother of solace. All I remember was pain. Specifics ironically and right on que, elude me. Knowing I had to express, I day dreamed my drive down from Athens, flowing to the Chattahoochee, home. It feels like lifetimes ago. Still bashful to color and timid to form. Definite, yet, crazed.
I’d surely had a large layer of my ego onion thumped. Seeing starkly the beauty in the contrast. In other words, riding a wave is dank and all, but sometimes the catch and coast of one, glides under radar’s pink tinted pulse of life.
Except I was at the part where you understand that it's pretty fucking obvious when you're being pummeled by the wash and ragged by the rinsing of wall of water folding you on repeat. However, as we do, we learn to walk a line in
the eye of the, however, so melodramatic, storm. Rain as reigns, winds as wheels, tears for sight’s sake.
Lmao red and black the obvious choice. Brainwashed to bleed the colors of my modern civil rivalry as if Calgary irl since I was five, my dad had me a Dawg. I like what Durkheim says about color, symbols, and collective effervescence in regard to the sub and unconscious mind's play, for fun. Check it boiii. crazy .
I wish I knew what paintings of the prints I cut up and pasted where from, but I didn't really think it mattered as much as it maybe did if it does to you like it didn’t me. Hahahahaha it says “my ego fakes
its own death all the time, taking all the credit” so dramatic. Centered is the bottom half of an original photo circa ~1880 of a white baby and her “help.”
