On the disingenuous nature of metaphor:

Often I talk about 'Junk Philosophy'. This is my term for spacey rambling and accidental insight, the two things I am most talented at. It's the law of averages that drives this. If I run my mouth long enough, something worthwhile is bound to come out.

I dedicate Synapse Soufflé to this notion.

When I write the tangible becomes irrelevant, lost to distractions, transient decoys sent to throw even the most meticulous reader off the trail. In this manner, I find that there is enough distance between my reader and my meaning to feel safe in the expression. Though, I wonder if in this way my metaphors become a lie.

My current obsession with Bukowski has made me keenly aware of his tendency towards the 'naked real'. Often vulgar, he expresses life as it is, much in the way a talented comedian pulls together common 'anti-virtue' to bring us home. Understanding these things, we find humor only because it puts us off, pulls us out of our sanitized visions of self.

Metaphor represents this, skewed, hidden. Yet, even as naked as Bukowski is, he must use metaphor. This is common to us all.

In this sense, all writers, all dreamers, all people must be liars.

And in this vein, I craft a sort of Mission for this Blog. I swear to any future readership that meaning will be distorted; I will to the best of my ability provide a refuge for the absurd, perhaps even a path to a more nomadic philosophical sense. My goal, if I have any, is to expose reality for the overly self-conscious metaphor that it is.