>Our Glittering Decline

>I have become obsessed with creating something that will make other people think as I have thought. Something dark and cryptic, something brimming with hope, madness, meticulous choice of words. Recipes for bombs and recipes for rice cakes with strawberries. With devastation and undoing of devastation. With the absence of all that is good only to make them realize what is good.
Giving someone what is good does not make them realize what is good, only what they perceive is good. One side of the conversation cannot give one the essence of the whole, but merely their perception of what the whole should be. Making people see what is good can only be achieved by dumping what is completely devoid of good on top of their narrow-sighted consciences. They will beg for the truth once all they have is lies. Once all the truth that is in their field of view is based on the untruth, the truth will be a street of gold in their gray perception of reality. It will then be impossible to ignore.

Villains today don't wear masks of black or spew vile hatred towards humanity through clenched teeth, instead they come with flowing robes and eloquent tongues and halos on top of their crowned heads. They win affection and build people's minds to understand what they say as being the one truth. Sparkling words do nothing but blind the ears of those who hear, making the decline of said words' lackluster unknown to those ears they have reached. Nothing that glitters is gold, and all that is gilded shines like the sun.

With my slip into insanity comes the enlightenment of mankind.

Hamilton Barber

The subject of this page is an introverted writer/musician/lunatic from Chattanooga, TN who dabbles in lexical dexterity, unorthodox thoughts on prosperity, and being overwhelmingly undeserving of the privilege of waking up every day. He hopes that everybody who reads these words takes them to heart and leaps higher than he ever could. He reads, thinks, and speaks too much; he listens, works, and loves too little; and he says “I” entirely too often. The words on these pages are not his: they are the words that were given to him.