The mark

Context is King. Things without form are given form by it, things standing weakly before a harsh backdrop of nothing are given by it. Context robs us, it blesses us, and it lives with us. Without it I am a babbling child, and sometimes with it even. Do you have to be something beautiful to make something beautiful? I hope to God not. I don't find any beauty inside me. Maybe far down at the bottom of the cavernous well all of 90 miles deep, or like that one episode of Tiny Toon's where the pig and the duck are falling for like, 15 minutes and have a conversation on the way down. I must think that it's like someone having the wherewithall to capture on a hat's drop something floating my them, seizing on it, and pounding everything they can out of it. It doesn't come from us, it's already out there. We just gotta snatch it when we can. You can catch a moonbeam in your hand if you're trying hard enough. I've seen it done. I've seen wine from water, something from nothing, and it's doable. Just be on alert to catch it before it's gone. Dear livejournal, I went to see the Spring Awakening. It was totes good. There was rockin' music and singing and dancing and even some of the boobies. The part, the part where it got dusty in the theater, was the Mama Who Bore Me Reprise. Premature, but it's who I am. It's one of those things, the moments that are so much bigger than they literally are. They're part of a perfection that can be confirmed only by visceral reaction evidenced by the bumps on your skin and blood in your heart. With outstretched fingers, you don't touch the face of God, he touches your's. One day I'll be a part of something lovely.