We're just rationalizing our surrender to physics at this point, objects at rest tending as you do, comfortable calling it comfortable, cozy and complicit in this old bag, the same old bag.



Born in a bag, buried in a bag, cozy and complicit.


Love,
the dead minotaur

Labels: comic, smiling bag-time jamboree

Perceptions shaped by natural selection would seem natural enough, yet in capturing the world in language the grammar twists translation until we're left with only an artifice in the image of our delusion. Whatever reality is out there has disappeared inside the bag of our means to understand it.



And once realized how shallow the bags really are, the tearing can begin.


Love,
the dead minotaur

Labels: comic, smiling bag-time jamboree

Minds weaned on cause-effect rationale used to be good enough damn it.
Used to be good enough to be mistaken.
Good enough to be wrong.
It's still okay sometimes.
Sometimes it's the best.
But it's still harder to fill the bag than it is to decorate it.



Such fancy bags, such room inside.


Love,
the dead minotaur

Labels: comic, smiling bag-time jamboree

Bound/chained/choked by grammar/custom/convenience and the lie/trick/dream of a one true fix.
Instructions deep red front to back but how I'm going to pierce the veil when I can't even fight my way out of this bag I haven't the foggiest.



When did we lose the foggiest?
Sometimes I wonder if we ever had it at all.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Labels: bags, comic, foggiest, smiling bag-time jamboree

Every generation of man that's come before has realized the prior had been profoundly wrong about a good number things they felt were pretty damn certain.
Can you imagine what's to come when our reality grows old and dies before us?
When we outlive our normal?
When our bags dissolve around us?



When faux-profundity's cool again?

Love,
the dead minotaur

Labels: comic, reality, smiling bag-time jamboree, uncertainty