*Warhol*
Diamonds
Diamonds are overrated. There is nothing that could stand in the way between a woman and her jewelry. How a rock, a stone, could wind up costing more money than anything has a right to cost is beyond me. Engagement rings, wedding rings, anniversary bands…marriage is overrated. Although I am a promoter of love (whatever that may be, it is by any measure undefined) marriage is a trap. The way I see it, love should not be caged, or possessed, or confirmed by a vow, ring, and a license. A partnership should be confirmed by proximity and longevity, how long a couple can stand to be next to one another, that is all.
Diamonds
Diamonds are overrated. There is nothing that could stand in the way between a woman and her jewelry. How a rock, a stone, could wind up costing more money than anything has a right to cost is beyond me. Engagement rings, wedding rings, anniversary bands…marriage is overrated. Although I am a promoter of love (whatever that may be, it is by any measure undefined) marriage is a trap. The way I see it, love should not be caged, or possessed, or confirmed by a vow, ring, and a license. A partnership should be confirmed by proximity and longevity, how long a couple can stand to be next to one another, that is all.
Technology
Technology is a curse. A blessing to most, but a curse if understood correctly. When applied, it can save lives, connect people together that are living extreme distances apart, it can make all forms of communication more simple, more accessible. But conventionally, it is unconventional. Efficient? Perhaps, but it consumes our thoughts as well as our actions. Creativity is restricted in one way, like entertainment for starters. Our minds are limited, our focus is shifted. Bigger and better, more frequent and faster. A factory is born. We have turned into machines. The simple life as we knew it is fading. Men on the moon? It is nearly terrifying of what will they think of next.
Technology is a curse. A blessing to most, but a curse if understood correctly. When applied, it can save lives, connect people together that are living extreme distances apart, it can make all forms of communication more simple, more accessible. But conventionally, it is unconventional. Efficient? Perhaps, but it consumes our thoughts as well as our actions. Creativity is restricted in one way, like entertainment for starters. Our minds are limited, our focus is shifted. Bigger and better, more frequent and faster. A factory is born. We have turned into machines. The simple life as we knew it is fading. Men on the moon? It is nearly terrifying of what will they think of next.
*Kenny Goldsmith*
Good Morning
The alarm sounds at 7:30am. Wake up. Turn over to the right. Open eyes. Grab the telephone and with blurry vision hit "Disable." Turn over and lie on my back. Turn over to the left and touch Greg. "Babe, it’s 7:30am, time to get up." Groggy and quietly, he replies, "Okay, 15 more minutes." "Okay." The alarm is off, so I am only half asleep, anticipating 15 minutes to go by. It goes by quickly. "Babe, it’s 7:45am…" "Okay, 3 more minutes…will you get the ironing board from your sister’s room for me?" "Okay…" I sit up halfway, the blanket still covering most of my body. "Where are my pants?" I feel around with my feet for my pants, which I’m certain are somewhere near the foot of the bed…I can’t find them. I sit up, shift the covers, lift them off my legs…there are my pants. I grab them, put the covers over me, and put on my pants while lying on my back, and with the covers up to my neck. I’m cold. I sit up and move from out under the covers. It’s cold. I find a hooded sweatshirt and put that on over my tank top. Open the door, open my sister’s door, and take the ironing board that’s lying against the wall behind her bedroom door. I shut her door behind me, walk into the kitchen, and unfold the ironing board. I walk back into my bedroom, Greg sits up, sighs heavily. "I don’t want to get up…can I have that sweatshirt?" I take off the sweatshirt, hand it to Greg, he gets up out of bed, I crawl into his spot. It’s warm, but I’m still cold. I lay under the covers until 8am, watching the hands tick on my new clock.
Good Morning
The alarm sounds at 7:30am. Wake up. Turn over to the right. Open eyes. Grab the telephone and with blurry vision hit "Disable." Turn over and lie on my back. Turn over to the left and touch Greg. "Babe, it’s 7:30am, time to get up." Groggy and quietly, he replies, "Okay, 15 more minutes." "Okay." The alarm is off, so I am only half asleep, anticipating 15 minutes to go by. It goes by quickly. "Babe, it’s 7:45am…" "Okay, 3 more minutes…will you get the ironing board from your sister’s room for me?" "Okay…" I sit up halfway, the blanket still covering most of my body. "Where are my pants?" I feel around with my feet for my pants, which I’m certain are somewhere near the foot of the bed…I can’t find them. I sit up, shift the covers, lift them off my legs…there are my pants. I grab them, put the covers over me, and put on my pants while lying on my back, and with the covers up to my neck. I’m cold. I sit up and move from out under the covers. It’s cold. I find a hooded sweatshirt and put that on over my tank top. Open the door, open my sister’s door, and take the ironing board that’s lying against the wall behind her bedroom door. I shut her door behind me, walk into the kitchen, and unfold the ironing board. I walk back into my bedroom, Greg sits up, sighs heavily. "I don’t want to get up…can I have that sweatshirt?" I take off the sweatshirt, hand it to Greg, he gets up out of bed, I crawl into his spot. It’s warm, but I’m still cold. I lay under the covers until 8am, watching the hands tick on my new clock.
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