Saturday, February 26, 2011


Blowing Bubbles, originally uploaded by Justin Shearer.

What is this dim, purplish monster? This cuddlesome virus that stalks in the midafternoon? It lulls one to sleep, beckoning from the tepid waters of a bath heaped high with frothy bubbles. Turn the corner of pleasure and it is there, staring you in the face. You have been satiated, satisfied. What could be left?

Pleasure can be a heartless taskmaster: exacting what everyone wants to give, but disappearing so quickly that it must immediately be replaced by a different kind of pleasure. A constant cycle--the Ouroboros--and it bores in the end. Even the beautiful, tickling, majestic power of self-fulfillment can leave a sullen aftertaste.    

Still, this monster is a cannibal, a creature that feeds on its own flesh. It would suck you into the bubbles, stroking your eyelids, making you believe that there is but one alternative to pleasure-seeking. But it is harmless, really. Apathy. Inertia. Beautiful ennui....

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