Preserving a snake in a jar

In this society time is a snake who eats you, you're off to a painful start with teeth and it's all constriction and acid thereafter until death (what's more symbolic of our growing mistrust in the afterlife than snake defecation?) Time has got it's parts: you pass through ribs, through a small intestine, through a large intestine and you slowly break down over the duration of the journey. That's how white people see time, a winding living line that you pass through, marked by stages. On the whole, it's not a trustworthy beast. In the end it will destroy you.

I'd like to try and describe other ways to know time. I've caught glimpses of them, but it can be difficult to see time in a way that is incongruous to how you've been raised, in a snake. Some people don't measure time in increments.

The passing of time is meaningless if you are aware of what's happening now. You are always here now, except for in the times when your mind is not here, now, and is instead preoccupied thinking about the snakes teeth or the snakes anus. The past and the future are essentially lost on us, but we are constantly putting our minds in those dream worlds. If you pluck your head out of fearful contemplation of the snakes sphincter and open your eyes to focus on that which occurs in this very moment; time becomes less linear and you touch omnipresence and eternity. Because, after all, every thing that has existed and will exist can only exist the present moment, and there is no other time than right now. 

Priorities

Even when I have $7 in my bank account and no food in my fridge I am a happy person if I can talk with people I love and have a piece of paper and some ink.

Just a thought about writing

DE BEAUVOIR: Just  how can one tell what are the words whose association will act on the reader? Must one trust in the void? Take the plunge?
SARTRE: Yes, you chance it. After all, you have reasons for chancing it.

So, my reasons for taking chances with writing are related to two important lessons about human behaviour presented to me by one of my teachers at uni.
The first lesson is that politics is in everything, not only between nations but between two people, between two grasshoppers, between a can of tomatoes and a raw tomato. My can of Italian tomatoes flavoured with oregano travelled a long way, packed in and taped up aboard a boat. My can of tomatoes undoubtedly cost more economically and environmentally than my tomato I grew in my backyard. Tada: politics.

The other lesson is that conflict is notoriously present when interesting people get together to do something productive.
So long as I can find interesting ideas and characters, no matter if they are incomprehensibly unrelated, pushing them together in writing creates conflict, power struggles, a jarring dynamic, politics. It's the process of making a crude reflection of human behaviour, so that readers recognise humanity in the words and are, as Simone says "acted on" by literature.

My efforts in writing have been lax recently. Some time, brain willing, I will explode again.