In the beginning there is aesthetics, it was always there. We see something – we like it, we have no control over it.
The answer (not the question) is why do we like it.
Art is is the means that the end justifies.
‘Why?’ is the answer.

We like something, this is not a question, this is not an answer. This is something indefinable.

This something leads us to trouble, leads us to adventure, leads us to experience the full range of emotions all of us completely different individuals are all governed by. We start to ask questions of our ups and our downs. By asking questions we enter a stage (as I am now) of defining the finer things in life.

Namely the things in life that necessitate no reason to exist, but however would not exist unless we defined them, otherwise we would have no recollection of imagining them. They are the waters of Lethe. They are the things of day and night dreams, but only because we call them so. They are the things that people get rich off of but befoul by turning them over to the public, into something that can be brought in to a material world. Ideas are not material, language is, mechanics is, religion is, money, politics is.

The aesthetic is outside, the first glance, the least bit of attention paid to something belongs to no one. The second glance is where things turn hairy.

We are not fit for our sentiments, our conclusions about the world, this world of beauty. But indeed it is all we have: to express the inadequacy of language is to express an inadequate theory through the very thing it strives to negate.

We live through ourselves and no one else; communication is a lot like site seeing – its all in your head.

Creation is a cyclical-fractal of collective perception.

Everything is necessary, only because our perception and interpretation and invention is so very unnecessary and imperfect.