Grounds For Sculpture ---

Okay, fresh page ripe for the typing. A lovely couple from Brazil thought I worked here. His wife had to translate that he used to work with typewriters a lot as a child, interesting people you meet here. It is getting late, the park will most likely close soon. However, I enjoyed my time here. Maybe I did I'm just joking. Though perhaps this booth could use a new chair and some ink.

My initial impulse was to type some sort of obscenity, but after seeing what the purpose of this station is, I think something a little bit deeper would be more appreciated. I have a lot of questions about what happens after death, a lot of them arising after my father died almost two weeks ago, so I'm wondering what others may have to say about the subject. I look forward to seeing some responses.

No more sophistry, no futile rhymes. No more metaphors that just waste time. This attempt at art goes out to those who have lost all feeling of repose. This attempt at a manifesto is for scholars for whom knowledge flows. This is a tale of false unionship told by a peasant of rulership. The resignation is due to this: our perpetual supreme abyss, goddess of all the flies in the sky. President for life, we glorify. You got away with a hit but we lie and wait. You got away with it but we ALL lie and wait.

Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

Praise the Lord. We love because he first loved us. The Son of man came not to be served but to serve and to give us as a ransom for many. Matthew, the Lord, is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name's Sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my Enemies; You annoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever. Psalm 23

Divided we fall. We are divided by artificial lines of code. We pick a team and think that it makes us stronger. It doesn't. We bark and rage at any one who is different, conservative, liberal, millenial, racist. Yet we never consider the similarities between us. We are all born we all die. And now instead of creation, we observe and point and destroy. We post and blog and it gets us nowhere. The internet did not bring us closer. It made it easier to o retreat into ourselves. Our anonymity. We need each other. We are strong together. We could build. We could imagine a better world and make it happen. We could finally rise up and be the people we know, or used to know, that we can be. Labels, thought policing, and pointing only serve to help control you. They are tools, and effective ones, and we accept the yoke of zombihood gladly if it comes with a new app. This is the end or the beginning, and it is up to us to decide which...