A. B. Clarke

“Young bodies” vs. “Old loves”

by abclarke


Old loves are like young bodies:

They are strong — each day, lifting their burdens, they grow more substantial, tougher, and more capable.

They are flexible — they can stretch and bend to extremes as needed to make it through the world.

They are radiant — they need no makeup, no coverings, no tricks of light for others to see their beauty.

They are resilient — they can withstand much pain yet wake up the next morning yelling, “Yes! Again! Again!”

They are mortal — they believe they can live forever, but can be wiped out in an instant if care is not taken.

(I took the above photo on Vigeland’s bridge)

Man in a Ring

by abclarke

IMG_0583 2

(I took this photo on Vigeland’s bridge)

My wife looked at the statue and said it reminded her of me.

“How,” I asked? “In his noble strength against his constraints? In his righteous fury in response to his captivity? In his perfect form against a perfect prison that can redistribute his force as he pushes, yet still he fights on?”

“No,” she said. “In that if he paused for a second, relaxed his grip, and stepped forward, he’d be free.”



Doing Nothing by Induction

by abclarke

N == 0: Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?

If N ==> N+1: Why do tomorrow what you can put off until the day after tomorrow?


Nietzsche & Descartes

by abclarke

He stood upon the edge looking into the abyss thinking ‘does it gaze back at me?’ No! Horror! It looked beyond him, past him, through him. There was no edge. There was no him. The abyss was everywhere, but even that was wrong. There was no abyss, no darkness, no lightness, no edge, no boundary, no nothing, no something. Nothing but his thought, and even that vanished as his eyes bolted open, heart beating, and he stared at the bed room ceiling, his wife’s body breathing beside him. There would be no sleep he knew now, just the despair he felt during the day his companion now in the night.

He rose slowly, so as not to wake her, and in the dark, still shivering, walked to the bathroom. There, head between his hands, he sat while slowly the urine trickled, then rushed, then gushed into the bowl below. And feeling, hearing it, the swish around the porcelain maelstrom, the thought came unbidden but welcome, comforting him, consoling him: I piss, therefore I am; I piss, therefore I am. I piss, therefore I am.

Other People Thoughts

by abclarke

When I was younger, I worried what other people thought of me.

As I grew older, I stopped worrying what other people thought of me.

As I grew older still, I realized other people don’t think about me.

As I grew older still, I realized I should think about other people.

Four Permutations of Three Words

by abclarke

Is this it?
Is it this?

It is this.
This is it.


by abclarke

Why don’t we paint the freeways?

Yellows, reds, greens, or blues?

Flowers, children, gay mosaics?

Why are they grey, lifeless, and morose?


by abclarke


Opiates of the masses

by abclarke

Image result for opiates

In the early days of the United States, when communities were the only way to survive, religion was the opiate of the masses.

As time progressed, and the family rather than the community became ascendant, television became the opiate of the masses.

As the individual became ascendant, the Internet became the opiate of the masses.

And today, as individuals are lost, opiates are becoming the opiate of the masses.

The evidence suggests that humans require opiates — perhaps, together, we should choose a different kind than the one we use now?


by abclarke

Long time ago,
Rock strong, alone.
Water comes.
And crash.
Long time ago,
Rock strong, alone.
Water comes.
And crash.

Now Rock is Sand.
Now Water brushes Sand.
Now Crab nests in Sand.
Now Water caresses Sand.
Now Dog frolics on Sand.
Now Water teases Sand.
Now Child plays with Sand.
Now Water kisses Sand.

And Sand ponders,
Long time ago,
Had, God forbid,
Water never come,
Would Rock strong, alone,
Have had the strength
To go to Water
And crash?