anatomies sum

Sometimes, ok all of the time, I have visions. A thousand possibilities, their interpretations, their likely outcomes and then the hopeful one. It's this last one to which I give the most credit. The anatomy of hope. Then when they do not come to pass I rage or flop or lay down in disbelief and wail and broadcast my disappointment and act it out - slash and burn the rubber of everyday existence. The slashing leaves me without support to move on. Out of desperation I begin to see the environment and the beauty surrounding it. Its a dark thing more than half of the time. Maturity dictates I improve those odds. And then I hear children speaking. Patti would say that these are the spirits and laughs for the sex to be had and the joy of birth and the utter impracticality of being spiritual in this way. Fuck it. So I sit to write and pace the green painted floor and pour the coffee grounds over glue and canvas to make words if nothing more. Engage it privately for three or more to see and I'm satisfied. For now. What I don't express here is the academics. Speaking epistemology in interpretation for others to grasp and criticize. I prefer practice but not entirely convinced that the other side isn't offering anything. That's where the money is, the institutional money anyway. On the other end, it's in the market. One pleases few, the other pleases more and they'll flip and flop and drop and inch ahead. It takes a utilitarian to master it though most would disagree. In not a utilitarian, I lose faith the moment any one of us goes down unless, of course, it is me taking them down. But you know this already.