Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa. Life is too interesting and I am too interested. In everything. All the time. If I focused better, it wouldn’t all be a blur. But who’d want a still when they could be a movie instead?
Ecstatic observances, speaking in tongues… it’s a secular communion, with wine and song. Wolf down the wafers, sing hymns to the city. Pray. Prey. Feed. Dance like a dervish before you’re pinned like a butterfly.
The King Of Broken Promises
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Testify. Like great cinematic direction, we might should choose well when to be a still and when to be a movie. There’s a solace in the freeze frame if chosen and frozen with due concern.
Or, even if a movie it is, motion blur as a systemic bauble might as well be a cheesy knock-off of Cooper’s Seven intro…throughout.