(Wrapping Drafts) Copypasta: From the Intertubes
((Wherein I copied bits of writing))
A expanding selection from here and there.
“One sticks one’s finger into the soil to tell by the smell in what land one is: I stick my finger in existence — it smells of nothing.
Where am I? Who am I? How came I here?
What is this thing called the world? What does this world mean?
Who is it that has lured me into the world?”
“The masters all painted baskets of fruit, Why? What is it about fruit, That demanded such passionate expression?
Was there a lucrative market of fruit lovers to exploit?
Personally, Fruit doesn’t bake my cake, if you know what I mean.
Now naked babes in the grass, That I can understand, But apples on a dish? What is it they’re trying to say?
Do they tempt us like Eve,
“Buy the apple painting, Maude, big, delicious, juicy, red apples on a porcelain white dish. Buy it, buy it, buy me,”
Whisper the artist’s serpent strokes.
Or maybe It was some deep psychological need – That compelled the depiction of fruit.
There they sit, Inert, In a bowl, or basket or dish.
The artist as pear.
Brimming life immobile. Contained within-
A precious seed Waiting…”
-Kaitlyn Paige Nakamura **, https://joindiaspora.com/posts/1126777
“to me, knitting is exactly like sex.
I can only do it for myself, or someone I hold very dear, and only out of love.
I would never think of doing it for money”