Everybody's a sucker for something, I imagine, and beauty is one of mine... something that cannot be named and yet is named because, when its consuming force happens to be absent, things get too lonely. It is at this point that the bullshit begins ... "everything is beautiful." Go suck an egg with that sort of perfectly true perfectly bullshit!
Beauty -- speak the word and it's like some Tupperware salesman or door-knocking Christian ... so uncertain and so filled with doubt and longing....
Perhaps the antithesis of beauty is ownership ... something to die for and yet if you die, the beauty will not be diminished.
It is miles beyond anything anyone could possibly share and yet, before the bullshit begins it is shared ... sort of like a puff of wind or the comedian Gabriel Iglesias suggesting, "how about a serving of shut-the-fuck-up?!"
Oh well -- there's a sucker born every minute and I am just one of them.
For me, a moment well spent is a thing of beauty, and fairly rare.
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