Sometime this city is a confusing place to live. There is so much freedom; freedom bordering on anarchy. Sometimes I think of Tucson as full of decadent bohemians. Sometimes I think of it as a place of wandering souls. Sometimes I think of it as an axis of great pain; the kind of pain that pulses and won't sleep. Like a tattoo. The kind of pain where the needle enters under the skin over and over again to leave its ink. The kind of pain that you ask for. You pay for these manageable battle scars.
Einstein's definition of insanity, "Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."
He said, "We are all a little crazy."
She said, "I have some crazy, but not the homicidal kind."
He did not seem surprised.
He bit her.
She bit him back.
And they lived happily ever after.
(Except it never ends that way.)
"In short, pure abstract art involves the perceptual idealization of the unique qualities of the visual world in a practical society that has no use for them, except as decoration, confection and a touch of glamour or charm. All are grotesque misunderstandings of unique quality, distorting and degrading it into a trivial sensation."