Friday, March 07, 2008

Trapped Inside the INSIDE

Trapped Inside

Within each of us is us; within that are probably several more of us....I think you are getting the picture. The walls are as thin as they are strong...kinda like the Hotel can check out anytime you like; but you can never leave... Sometimes we can "summon" any particular level or self the situation might require. Other times, one gets too dominant and doesn't share or have any courteous intentions. (you know what I mean, right, or am I the only crazy writer out here?) Anywhoo...when the egg carton is working well; nothing gets broken or at least the spill is contained. If that egg gets outside the carton, there's gonna be a cleanup. That reminds me of one my favorites, PULP FICTION, (great site . This movie is crammed with great blog material and probably a few life lessons too. Every good mob has a "clean up man" Hmmm...I'm getting hungry thinking about it all. Pulp Fiction Hardees Commercial

Who are we? That's the question that launched a thousand thoughts. Observation: "we" is plural but "I" is always capitalized. That pretty much sums up the world. What do you think? Am I making sense yet or are you bored?

These fantastic images are property of Claudio Martinez, an absolutely amazing and talented photographer.

We have the furocious exteriors designed to protect us and ward off predators; and there's plenty of those, visible and invisible. In my fathers house are many mansions. In the dwelling of our minds are the siblings of ourselves waiting for their moment uptop. Sometimes its not good that dictators fall. Another strange truth inside the carton leaking on the counter. Anywhoo.....whew, this getting strange even for me (wink....right) probably not yet, eh? So I am going to shut up and look at these cool images. This stuff SPEAKS to me in seductive whispers beyond my ears, straight to my DNA, my binary code, my Apple-heart. Arent people an odd creation.....


1 comment:

Andrew Stanfield said...

Nope, you're not crazy. Or you're not the only person that is. I like the phrase 'siblings of ourselves,' those pieces of who we are that are waiting for the right time, or the right circumstance, to make their appearance.