as the end credits roll backward toward the beginning of the end, the opening shot reveals in the first few frames the details to decode the final dissolve… inspiration, perversion and corruption conspire to pollute and inspire... to breathe within without among and between... to break, to brake, to destroy destructive patterns, to slow down… reflection, recollection, recreation, recognition, re-evolution, realization...

the realization that maybe you're a cog caught up in some crazy machine, pledging allegiance in the name of the machine willingly or unwillingly feeding the fires of the empire, contributing to man's arrogant battle against nature and man finding ways to impose his will upon nature and man, in doing so, loses his humanity and becomes more insect-like, living and working in service of the hive...

kafka was on to something, he understood the grave consequences of this all-consuming alchemy, as did mary w. shelley... dr. frankenstein as prometheus as modern man as prometheus, and his creation plays the role of the golem/adam (yhvh made adam from dust) as well as modern man and his effects on his environment... a man-made monstrosity, self-replicating, creating chaos and destruction in its wake...

awakened by the nightmare and horror of humanity, you take a deep breath and recognize it as the living spirit breathing within and around all... and realize all is not chaos and destruction, all is beauty, creation and destruction... and revere the beauty and light residing in all... only to repeat the tragedy when time, forgetfulness and spiteful pettiness corrupt the quest and reverence becomes anathema...

any thoughts or reflections are now turned inward and kept hidden, but you look in the mirror and ask, "would you please help me to paint on this smile?" because you have to protect and project the image, the illusion of happiness... playing pretend to placate the passive masses grazing plastic pastures... how does this help us grow? not wise, but bored and angry...

so the sickening sweet has you chewing through your cheek and grinding your teeth down to the nerves, yet you keep gnawing away... to make matters worse, you suck down the sugar and saccharine you're constantly spoonfed to assist the eroding and corroding of your mouth and mind... but now you've become addicted to the pain and a mere root canal cannot satiate your dolorous desires, so you clench your jaw so much that you reward yourself with a case of self-inflicted tmj, everytime you feel that pop! you fall into a paradise of pain and for that fleeting moment you're alive...

otherwise, you're mostly dead inside... maybe because you have lived your whole life with the suspicion that you're the subject of some experiment, the target of market researchers evaluating and calculating your every move... bombarded with images of what you need, want, must have, until volition becomes automatic response to stimuli and all you truly feel any more is alienation...

possibly ending up in a place like 6 east... a route, a direction,a destination, an intersection of good intention and questionable execution, a collision of competing conflicts, a cross-section of conspiracies both real and imagined, as if there really is a difference... and again you're faced with the difficulty of distinguishing between objectivity and subjectivity until you figure out there really is no difference...

truth and fiction, fact and fantasy weaving within one another, coiling in spirals of shadow and light... standing at the edge of the abyss, you stare into the darkness of the void until you see the light within and witness the instantaneous dance of creation and destruction at the quantum level, the union of infinite and infinitesimal...

awed by the complexity and confusion of your abysmal enlightenment, the revelation of your transformation and alteration, a tear forms only to be wiped away by the sole of someone's shoe and a harsh reality kicks in literally... orwell understood too well, whether to be the foot or the face, to step lightly or stomp heavily, all the grand metaphors are reduced to a boot to the head...