Back to the Roots (part I)

Once in a while I have to return to the roots. Once in a while I have to remind myself (and others) where it all started. Even this blog needs to be reminded the wheres and whys of its existence.
Alan's Phycheledic Breakfast started with a picture of Mademoiselle Nobs singing.
This blog is a relic of my everyday routine. Most of the time I am not inspired enough to post my thoughts. I could say that I prefer to experience instead of observing reality. I could be wrong. It is more likely that our everyday actions are normalized by reality. Inspiration cannot be normalized.
Beauty can be a way to revolt against this normalizing order of fragmentation and alienation. Beauty is subversive in depth. It is the precondition for personal awareness.
Today I came across beauty in the form of music. Pink Floyd. And it invaded my brain taking me back to my roots and forward to a future that hasn't been formed yet. Time is grotesque and frightening. It is always on our backs pushing us in a quest of something.

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over,
Thought I'd something more to say.

(Pink Floyd, Time)

Enjoy! Revolt!