sono.tino

these are the words and photos that depict the world in which we live.


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La bilancia di gravita

Some days gravity feels like the air is an ocean and it just pins you to the ocean floor like you’re a crab, forced to crawl. I mean, how do those thing actually keep themselves down there. They’re hollow! We’ve all cracked one open, you know what I mean. There is precious little meat, the best of it is in the claws and otherwise it’s a hard-shelled balloon aching to fly off to meet an unsuspecting finger; even the soft-shelled ones.

I digress. It’s what happens when your ability to function optimally seems stunted, like not all 8 cylinders are firing. This lack of capacity must be linked to an increased density and surface tension in our daily fluid. Doesn’t the air just feel heavy at times and steps require a little more energy than they did yesterday. Maybe all of the free-radicals are reacting with some unstable oxygen, and increasing the bonding energy of … well, everything.

Imagine the moon in it’s low gravity environment. It’s as if you were to take that lunar acceleration and go the delta between the moon’s and the earth’s gravity, but to the faster end…that’d be some heavy shit. It would feel like a constant state of depression.

Just getting out of bed in the morning would become that much more difficult. In essence, the world would be pushing back. For all of the times that you scorned the world as if it had somehow been a factor in why some random situation did not result in your egocentric favor (insert black & white John Wayne scene with him yelling, “Damn you, world!” in a fake rainstorm with a six-gun strapped to his thigh). Consider this increased resistance as the world deciding to take the opportunity to put you back in your place…literally.

Perhaps this slowing down of affairs is a blessing in disguise. A forced moment to take the lay of the land, attune yourself to the internal barometer and relearn how to react on a more millibar basis. Notice how you feel about the people with whom you decide to surround yourself. Notice how you feel about yourself in all different situations. This is the level of connection for which we should always strive.

Watching life go by at a fraction of its current post-millennial speed makes us realize just how much happens every day. When you allow your brain to speak on every bit of observation that it makes, it is a huge flex-fest for the cerebral synapses that leaves you feeling so alive. So much so that it is easy to get caught in the simple subtleties of the days most minor events…or drowned out by the life changing moments that can occur.

So on the days that you feel the slowest, take your time. Take time in your 1st gear and watch the billions of mini actions that really compose the threads of the fabric of the world. This is where you witness the finest embroidery.


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The dirt falls from my fingers,

Because I spend my days toiling in the fields. It’s back breaking, thankless, and the least likely thing to deliver happiness in this curt life we lead. My muck boots may have fine laces, but they are still made from heifer leather. My sleeves still roll when the going gets tough, though the cuff may be French and initialed. Our backs pain together, arched over our handheld technologies. The steel is either hand-ground for an edge or polished to a shine. The tool is our cross roads between working harder or smarter, where grunt meets hmmm. This has become the most opportune moment to sit back and strategize. A bonobian brow is raised and a chimp’s fist comes down with a thud. This is a moment of evolution, something that uniquely sets us apart from those who came before. Though the action may be small for one human, it is but a leap for humankind. This is why those with the weight of the world on their shoulders seem to have the strength of an army and the vision of an oracle. Divinely inspired by something that is anything but…the inching forward of ACTG into another helical duet that leads to another and so on, until something is from what was not. Great contemplation has no relation to contempt, because creativity is the photon packet of man that no shallow dish of human emotion can refract or distort. When the flash of brilliance passes like a solar flare, our noses return to the laws of gravity and we return to what we were doing before the nano-stretching of the fabric of life made us step outside of ourselves. Then we take comfort in the dirt again, so familiar, so grounding, so now.


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We All Believe In Something,

I just tend to believe in it more than the next guy. When you find something to believe in, you stick with it. When you find something you are good at, you stick with it. I’m a protestor for hire and I support causes. Gender causes, racial causes, environmental causes, political causes, class-warfare causes and any other cause that causes you to have a cause. You can say that I quite literally live a cause and affect relationship. A cause is bigger than us. It has life, yet is lifeless. There is energy akin to cold fusion in causes, and when I tap into it I can protest forever. On my feet picketing, on my ass starving or on my stomach in handcuffs – I support the cause. I would take nails through my hands for the cause. I am the master of props in supporting the cause. I once wheeled an old woman out of a convalescence home for a cause. She had no idea who she was or where she was. It’s not like I mistreated her, as a matter of fact she was doing more than she had done in years. We stood outside of that pharmaceutical laboratory and we let them have it. Science for better living, they say; my ass, I say. You produce the most lethal type of warfare imaginable, the kind that people truly believe they can’t live without. I understand the marvels of modern medicine as well as the next recipient of a few more years of quality living; more than I would have had on my own, but they play a different game. Get them early with ritalin, adderal and welbutrin. Keep them forever with vasodilators, ACE inhibitors and pain relievers. We all know people who dodged the addiction bullet, and we all know some who took it between the eyes. We can’t allow anyone else to get hurt. Like poor Materna here in the chair, she will never know her grandkids because your Allegra failed to make her happy…and we all view happy in a different way. For some it means no more restricted air passages, for others it literally means being happy. Don’t judge them, because we aren’t them. Support them, as you would want them to support you in a time of need. See how this auto-support can be addictive. Doing good is truly addictive. The only way to break an addiction is cold-turkey, but even I could protest against that. Stop devaluing the social benefits incurred by our national holiday of Thanksgiving. Take the opportunity to see how it brings families together and spurs individuals to give selflessly to others in much greater need. Warm turkey is a foundation of humanity and inextricably linked to our cultural underpinnings. And our culture is about making ourselves happy…now. Actually yesterday, if it were at all humanly possible. I support the organic production and distribution of happiness. As long as it is sustainably grown and harvested, it seems like there should be enough happiness to go around. This is why I support sharing, like the WiFi that I am borrowing from my neighbor to post this supportive cause of the representation of self-fulfilling causal support.