While Sipping some Longjing Tea, glaring at Wassily Kandinsky's Improvisation 30, listening to Vivaldi's Spoza son disprezzata sung by Cecilia Bartoli, cogitating on John Donne's The Ecstacy; i have come to write about today. (I'm suppose to be writing something on Hyperrealism, but i am a procastinator. Thus, i leave it to be unattended for now.) And this is what John Perry calls Structured Procrastination.
Knowledge is a farce. It is not viable.
Ramon-Horta was shot. He is critical.
Terrorism is media-made. There is no terrorism without the media. Media itself is terrorism.
The fuss on Jun Lozado. Quo vadis verum?
Richard Lisay mentioned that the Holy Spirit is not God. Merely a manifestation of Christ's teachings.
What is Idiocy? Fideists.
Vanitas vanitatum omnia vanitas.
Still, Kandinsy does not make sense, perhaps i should stop thinking of Donne. Or is it just the tea? Or perhaps, just perhaps, it is Bartoli singing a Vivaldi.
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