Cimbing Stairs

It strikes me that life is like climbing a set of stairs--or walking somewhere.

The West has told us that all that matters is getting to where we're going--or else why walk at all?! So around here, we ignore the scenery--try to get past it faster.

And we certainly have a point.

The East, on the other hand, insists that as we're walking at the moment, where we're going is immaterial. Which, of course, is true as well. But why not at least head for places with even better scenery as long as we're enjoying it? Why not go visit shit we've heard great things about? Why not investigate what we want--as long as nothing matters anyway?

It's not too hard to see that here in the 3rd millenium, what we're going to do is shake them both and say: "Yo, mothafuckers! It's both!"

And maybe add a quick "Get over yourself." Damn.

The question remains, though, which one to use as our primary reaction to things. Which one to favor and hold more holy. For certainly we aren't bad-assed enough yet to speed like we've been doing and dawdle smelling flowers at the same time. Maybe some day, but not quite yet.

Like computers, our attention doesn't quite parallel process as efficiently as it does singularly focus.

The rent is due, and the couch is feeling relaxing, do we believe or get scared?

We have missed rent before. Even starved and hurt. The question is real.

And there's a series of paintings calling. And a few songs percolating.

You have paintings to sell, but none have sold so far.

You've been at it ten years and haven't sold shit.

Faith or fear?

Which will render you a man and which mighty mousey?