| About the author: |
Yours truly, known to many as PW, was born in 1971 in Manhattan, New York.
My great loves include music, sport, endorphins, sunsets and panoramic views.
First Cause was first conceived as a screenplay idea in the early nineties; I shelved
it and forgot about it for nearly a decade, after which I dug out the original notes
and began drafting it as the story it has become.
The piece below, written on a subway in 1999, represents one of my brighter
moments of expressive clarity; it also underscores the worldview that led to First
Cause in the first place. I hope you enjoy it, though I'd hesitate to call it artistic.
Click here to join the First Cause Futurists on Facebook
My great loves include music, sport, endorphins, sunsets and panoramic views.
First Cause was first conceived as a screenplay idea in the early nineties; I shelved
it and forgot about it for nearly a decade, after which I dug out the original notes
and began drafting it as the story it has become.
The piece below, written on a subway in 1999, represents one of my brighter
moments of expressive clarity; it also underscores the worldview that led to First
Cause in the first place. I hope you enjoy it, though I'd hesitate to call it artistic.
Click here to join the First Cause Futurists on Facebook
| ENGINE I see the contradictions inherent in so many things we do The controlled insanity programmed from such early youth The many ways we find NOT to think NOT to help one another NOT to relate NOT to learn NOT to even care I see the small ways we try to liberate ourselves from our trappings, Only to soon forget the aim and source of our liberation And I want to give up. I want to forget it all, quit the game, leave for good. Then I remember: I LIKE music I LIKE beauty I LIKE dancing, long walks and attractive women; I like television, sports, movies, perfume, and beer, And I am vain. And I, too, am weak; I revel in my weaknesses at times. Some of our pathetic distractions PLEASE me. So I try. I try to reconcile my need to transcend with my urge to fit in. I allow myself petty trivialities, As long as they don’t implicitly or explicitly hurt anyone. (and sometimes, but fortunately seldom, even when they do.) And I hope. I hope I can find what lies at the bottom of our foolish drives and distractions. I see the exquisite: A look of wonder in a child’s face; A look of kinship or kindness in a stranger’s face; A look of love or admiration from one who knows you well and believes you deserve it; A calm snowdrift; A temperate breeze; The warmth of the sun; The brilliance of a dawn or dusk; The infinite mystery of a starry night; The breathless thrill of an anticipated first kiss. And I know that it is this I seek. These sorts of things keep me alive. These things are everywhere, in practically all of us. And I trudge on, encumbered yet freer than most. And I hate what I see, always, And I love what I see, always. And with all the institutional violence, All the lies, the masks we wear in spite of ourselves, The despair that hangs above all we do— There is a love of life, a gratefulness to be on this Earth And a wish never to leave it. And in every glimpse of sublime or fantastic beauty-- In word, deed or image, from friend, family, stranger or foe— A vision of where we can go and what we might become. And all of this is what gets me from day to day. |
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