n the tumble of failed endeavours, the rare useful idea is all too
easily overlooked and lost. Squeamish as we are to sort through our own waste
in search of a swallowed diamond, a vital part of our experience is often
carelessly flushed away with the filth that the less eloquent portals of our
biological expression issue forth in astounding quantities. Only by moving
beyond this habitual revulsion in regards to the baser aspects of ourselves can
we insure that the exceptional is not inadvertently banished with the
excremental, leaving us with no more than bland mediocrity to fuel our
imaginations. How many brilliant inspirations have we been deprived of in this tragic and inexcusable manner? What kind of monstrosities bloated upon the rich compost of our effluent wander the sewers of unfulfilled possibility? They would put the tedious bric-a-brac that clutters our crippled consumer society to utter shame - of this I have no doubt.
But it is almost unbearable to think that this store of inspiration-gone-astray is now entirely beyond our reach. Ideas take on a life of their own, sometimes with a nature more vital and enduring than that of their originator's; and, once conceived, are not so easily destroyed - not even through a deliberate effort to do so.
Somehow there must exist the means to retrieve this orphaned multitude,
to make it once again an active part of our lives. Yet one can not help
consider the possibility that the very idea which provides the key to this
dilemma has itself been lost by result of the same carelessness that it was
intended to remedy.
M3b(5)