Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

i've thought about
-- if only i could truly say,
"i thought about it."
in the past tense, rather than
the present --
ending this life.

sometimes the divide
between
reality
and fiction,
theory and practice,
is
the divide between
life and death.

It was the Spanish maestras who taught philosophy.

They were all yoked to each other with an unspoken smile that laughed out loud: we use the idioma to subvert the system and teach the kids what they need to know...we just make it look like the focus is on the Spanish words, not on the thoughts in Spanish.

They moderated the grand discussions on "Realidad o Fantasía?"--
and we pondered Pablo and Frida and Joan Miró and El Greco
and read Cervantes and Alejandro Casona
and lost ourselves in Allende and Cortázar
and recited Neruda and Martí and Nicolás Guillén
and--

Realidad o Fantasía; if life and death are black-and-white, which fills which category best?

where is that fine line drawn? at what moment are we actually completely in the black state. thoughts i do not wish to think of right now. To me a scary write, at least to the current state of mind. Tomorrow is another day.

You toe the line I suppose
the solid line
but you never make that leap
it's not a solitary choice
never a solitary choice
you take others with you
make them
the living dead

toe the line
study the line
analyse the line
write about the line
but never swing from the line
or swallow the line
define the line
defy the line

I've thought about it, too.

don't be alarmed dear readers, this thread-starting post entitld "Fiction" is just a meditation on Hamlet, the question To Be or Not to Be. it seems that Hamlet, far from being a nihilistic existentialist, was really just a god-fearing man: the only reason one should not commit suicide is so as not to go to hell, just as the reason he doesn't kill step-dad when he has the chance while the king is praying is so as not to send the latter to heaven. Sort of the negative versions of Pascal's wager. What dreams may come . . . .

Quote:

I've thought about it, too.

Thought about it? I got plans. Three ways so far. Walking on a beach with my pockets full of rocks and my lungs full of caner. Or, Krispy Kreemed to death. Or sailing out of Ilwaco in a forty foot ketch, like Captain Joshua Slocum.

Nice work e-dog:

Ya know I think I liked it better before you explained it