5.2.

“To kill an error is as good a service as, and sometimes even better than, the establishing of a new truth or fact.” Charles Darwin

22.2.

The truth is out there. There is no truth here.

Once you go there you will see that there is no real truth there either. Please do not be mistaken…  

I did literally try to escape to Robben Island. Admittedly I have been trying to get away but not from a physical location. The rowing is incidental, don't focus on it as it offers little other than the obvious. Blur your vision and look around it, look behind it. Even better don't look, think. 

-7.8.

My parents, Dieter and Gail, have a peach and it never ages.

It is really unreal with the fruit’s marble body gently blushed and bruised with pigment, and in its navel nestles the clincher: a real wooden stem… here lies a peach.

When I first touch it I am touched by it, am taken by its ability to convince me and then convince me otherwise.

Here stands something that is and is not, it agrees and disagrees.

This peach, this thing holds a moment when the idea of Truth is questioned.

I am unmistaken and mistaken, I believe and unbelieve.                                            (2012-02-07)

77.1.

have your doubts                               
(2012-02-09)

18.2.

caveat lector

It functions as a reminder that thinking twice about what data we are consuming is key in our post-Information Age; we have been and are being informed and we are informers ourselves. Anyhow, even in this case it would be good not to judge a book by its cover et cetera. The title has its pitfalls but it is upfront about a complex narrative speckled with a history of solid truths and media distortions and or manipulations. The lies are unavoidable in a world left unspellchecked.                             (2012)

6.3.

duumviri 

(Lat duumvir, "one of the two men"; in plural originally duoviri, "the two men") 

285.

Can we talk? Somewhere not too public, not to private either. Here is good enough... I have growing pains, it feels like my heart is breaking. I am getting jammed in the crease, the whelm. I am gasping grasping too often. So, I have recognised that there is a problem. I have acted on it, been dealing with it. I am working on it. It being working with myself. I am actualising things, beautiful simple things with complex innards. My tertiary education is over, no more collaboration for me at least not in the sense that I have pursued working with others. I am doing with what I have, very doable. Hard as fuck. While I am in this unbecoming state of becoming I am finding that working placates the mind. Everyone and everything seems unreliable. The second guessing creeps in and replaces thinking twice all to often. As if I pictured a different life. I have always done my own thing because I don't belong, it has been good being on the experiential innovative side. (but) Now I feel it, the not belonging. Nowhere. Seriously. Sleep evades me, tears appear. Its not like I strive to belong but this alien feeling is tiring. Not my finest hours but it's a productive transition period.                (2011-05-07)