Something... I Used To Know...

Stacey Ann Quick SQUICK Kansas City Street Artist


In the stark, unyielding landscape of existence, where absurdity reigns as a silent monarch and logic is but a whisper in the wind, we traverse not as mere spectators but as integral cogs in the vast, indifferent machine of the cosmos.

With the precision of a clockmaker and the detachment of a winter's frost, let us dissect the tableau of life's inherent irony.


The Mechanism of Descent

Envision a world not dissimilar to a grand, intricate clockwork, each entity a gear in the relentless grind of time.

Adorned in the illusion of significance, we glide along the spiraling grooves of fate, our every ambition but a fleeting spark in the eternal mechanism of the universe—with each tick, a step; with each tock, a slide. The tightrope of existence is iced over with the cold truth: beneath us lies not a safety net but the void itself, its embrace inevitable and indifferent.


The Mirage of Ascent

In the cold light of reality, the myth of the Great American Dream transmutes into the cosmic comedy it truly is. We scurry like ants on a piece of driftwood, mistaking it for a mighty ship steering toward paradise.

Once vibrant and warm, our dreams now shimmer with the cool detachment of mirages on the horizon of an arid desert. We chase them with the enthusiasm of the damned, only to reconsider where we began, our laughter echoing hollowly in the vast, empty auditorium of the universe.


 The Elegy of the Ether

Spare a thought for the beautiful losers, the starry-eyed outcasts who dance alone in the pale moonlight of obscurity. They ignite the sky with the brilliance of their descent, trailing fire in the cold, unfeeling ether.

But their flame is temporary, a momentary defiance against the dark, a fleeting rebellion against the eternal chill. They are not falling but surrendering, their light a brief respite in the relentless march towards the inevitable dusk.


The Icy Embrace of Infinity

As the final act draws to a close, the audience long dispersed. The echo of our journey remains the frozen trails of our laughter and tears in the snow of oblivion. Embrace the slide, for it is the only truth in a world of shadows.

Embrace the cold, for it is the only constant in a universe of change. And when the ride becomes too treacherous, too steep, remember to gaze at the stars and marvel at the beauty of the frost. For in the end, it is not the warmth of the destination but the chill of the journey that shapes us molds us and defines us in the grand, indifferent design of existence. Buy the ticket, take the ride, but remember: the cold, unyielding slide carves the canyons of our souls.


-- JSPC [ OVER * OUT 2023 ]

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