A narrative outside of social convention becomes important, this is the role of love. Any socially derived narrative is open to satire and to tragedy. While 'god' functions as some inescapable parasocial narrative, love functions as something which only fails by being mediated by society.
Or maybe all satire is meta, but not all meta is satire? Id definitely like to find an example of meta not being satire, but i have a high expectation it would be open to criticism of being overly intellectualised and ultimately vacuous.
I don't necessarily want the concept of meta to be reduced to a single lane, But is meta the lowest form of satire? (At least some of the time)
I'm a fan of Sam Campbell, but I've never cracked up so hard to a premise before. Less than 2 minutes in to episode 1 of Make That Movie
I'm struggling to break out of a bad cycle right now, I had been attributing it to the heat, but no, it was at least partially me. I keep fantasising about it being hot enough to get relief from a cold plunge, but I might just need to take a cold bath on a mid day to stimulate the vagus. Idk
The difference between an ontology of space-time and an architecture of space-time is the difference between a metaphysical reality's pertinence to eternity and simulation theory's relationship to an endless array of turtles.
Triggered by the bond market Here for Art History. The Pictorial Content, Magritte, 1947
All practical actions take on a symbolic role. It actually requires work in order to prevent the symbolic role from taking over, the allure of leadership, the notion of the alpha male, the authority of religion and law makers, make a practice out of the symbolic. Possession of the symbol as an end
The cross worshippers who travelled the globe destroying other cultures while oppressing the natives in the countries they had already claimed are still doing these things.
"Ashton Bodymind" 5"x5" water-soluble graphite, acrylic, paint pen, wax pastel, colored pencil on wood panel
The marked weight of your privilege denies any doubt to be beneficial from
Media control in Victorian England: forcing Shakespearean actors to perform the satire with a straight face.
Finally got a better pic of this WIP. I'm in love with this one. Exploring the intersection of oil painting and sculpture has become my favorite medium. I think I got a little self indulgent though. Its a little muddy right now, lost some of the simple beauty. I'll tone it down on the next pass.
Gods gone until I articulate fairly Who i was before and then thereby you changed Who i was before? From the cursed mouth of Who I now am? Fuck it all, I was already gone Fuck it all that's come and gone Except for my belief Inarticulate, that i keep, knowing or not, that you are gone (from)
Older than this? What words of confidence could speak? The bleeting metric of scythen tongues with cheek towards childish humble speech Where foolish grown men fright to trek The ghoulish adolescents bid to make a path they never err to take, but on these grounds my hill to brake this unleveled pyre
What light? This Light Its draw neither forgiving nor merciful Not vengeful cold, but morrowfying Destiny paled, measuring against the measureless Only on the heat of flesh to pour its cooling pales Of milk and ash alike Drink not of these alike But water from your heart's intent Or do without
God's gaunt display of thought against the satisfaction to breathe deprived senses into it's believers The wrinkled finger of a wrongdoers intent upon the lips of every shortcoming human being's failure To speak out about their hand in parts to disglove another's fawning conclusions regarding belief
My true love's leaves Given drunk to me My pretenders haunting Distracted by my journey Failing as I must To see my way back to leaves once torn down from a tree Who saw much more than I could see
Tacked to an ought Barely seen by any like mindedness Not to her, but to any ought Seen only as to her's destructive thoughts Caught in circumstance of causes Shared by a disgruntled lot Who cared nothing of her short Sighted comings gone
The garrulous subsection to gossip's prowess Of heart's drawn scant to nought but despair God's hand's lift short of vanity's fair retort Beneath gallantry's quest to be remembered sure The arch of time takes more and more And in the meagre heart parched unborn Faith in death dwindled insecure
I'm not loving Ted Lasso looking like they're going to try and keep it going indefinitely. I do, however, have a couple of ill conceived suggestions, mostly all contained within the single idea that Ted Lasso takes place in the same universe as The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret