I don’t know. (Also, you bastard.)
Philosophy isn’t my strong point, in truth. (And that missing typographical unit crops up loads in JPS’s thought, which is difficult).
Going day to day, instant by instant. Untradition, bad faith in status quo. That way hits right into my torso (blood pumping organ). Don’t lay back and swallow old truths. Today you walk paths building into that blank in front of you.
You can always go forward. You pick how to go on. In an instant, you build your own world. Don’t sit back, ignoring your own world in favour of that which is laid out for you.
That is not yours.
But I don’t know JPS’s work. Just notions, built through words that ain’t his. Boring? How can I say? His thoughts impact, his actual words didn’t hit.
Not a jot.
But that impact. That’s big.
His philosophy is good shorthand for wank though. Word has lost it’s form and now an insult. Shallow, rolly smoking, black outfit. Look right, look smart. Hold a book, JPS in sight, your public know, you know.
Such is philosophy. A mask. Worn outwards. Proclaim your point. Show which coin you worship. Plato? Kant? JPS? Intimidating.
You stand in front of big brains from history. You pick your daddy. You borrow words and thoughts not your own.
Stand tall, without history groping you. Forward on your own. Try it. Fuck philosophy. Fuck big brains of history.
You can still think without that.
You on your own. Infinity in your mind, conflagration in your torso (blood pumping organ).
Growth is yours. Don’t bow to boring.
But possibly look at words on your own. I am stilts and stunts and boring too.
Fucking ridiculous this. Can’t talk. Bound by trivia. Thought is hurt. My brain is hurt.
Boring, no doubt, for you, this contortion.
Word tools not valid. This is how my brain usually thinks. I am monstrous without that tool. That tiny brick in my wordplay.
Stops my brain from working.
You couldn’t hurt my mind so much any which way. I am stuck and rigid.
And boring. Boring as JPS (possibly).
I think this isn’t what JPS would want. Smashing blocks was his thing, right? No conformity. Truth in an instant. Right now, I am full.
Don’t just do what is told to you. Go forward, in this now.
World is in front. Pick your path along it.
You and I in this instant, with ways to go on. Forward is natural. But which forward. I pick forward from my torso. (Blood. Pumping. Organ).
I try not to follow arbitrary instructions without thought. But I am writing anyway. Slowly dying too.
Boring is boring. But you might find a thing to pump your blood. JPS cut paths for us.
And you and I can walk on.
I win, Mr P.
Illustration by Kieron who has an ‘e’ in his name.