Beauty, is that what we should call it? In defiance to such a claim that beauty is really the target, the aim, and therefore succeeding in human flourishing, my wonderment is: why ‘beautiful‘? Why must such vastness of imagination, experience, feeling, creation, observation–such transcendent–bottomless, unconceivable heights be chained to one word, one succession that can explain it all? Of course, I say this knowingness that all magnitudes, like the abhorrers and subtleness, that all levels can be exempt to ‘beauty’. It is here then, whereby I ask: who bestowed the infinites to one word, and why that word? As well, thusly, I am aware that the question is rather ambiguous, and maybe inane, but nevertheless, it is a question, and I, relatively see that–this wondering–mildly sceptical inquiry: pertains it’s own tranquillity. Most indefinitely, someone might view it to be levitated on more of the aggressive side, and be maybe even slightly, just a bit appalled that beauty would even be at question–but all the same, I’ve incite something, even the remote stirring, or puzzlement. So, what do I call that?

Appalling Aesthetics
We have become conventional to disgust, so as to that, we’ve nurtured it. There happens to be a crevice disposed on the last step of my concrete stairwell, where the bottom tries to liberate itself to the top . It is no mere crack, but a fissure erupted from ignorance, and with it, reeks of a substance that can only be expressed as this: murky discharges of society’s bile; chemicals that induce birth to creatures that crawl out only at night, and infest themselves deep into the walls, pertaining the areas repulsiveness. Peering into the crux is a deep blackness, which can only be assumed is bottomless; vermin warmly snuggling into the trenches, burrowing into the steps, trying to manifest the darkness into nothingness. The sight is captivating and unbearable. That crevice reminds me of the filth I sit in, the ghastly substance that I passively allow to bore, and have now, become custom to.
In this world, that man envisioned to be beautiful as children, there exists a enigmatic fluid, an interference, which derails the aesthetic conception into a vision that gives birth to “the ugly“. This unpredictable interference is man made, and it is the fluid of influence that indoctrinates such a disease: the disease of disgust. It turns the world dirty, ugly. Wretched. One could say that it is only reality, the factual truth that the world is indeed an ugly place, and that the interference is only reality making itself prominent. But I concur, there prevails many individuals who still see this world as merely a piece of art, in their own interpretation of what is beautiful. The whole question on aesthetics is an impervious one. If following reality, then the fact that these days modern art of torture and indecencies, which are implied to be beautiful – well – there’s the enigmatic fluid I speak of. What is seen intolerable at first, will then show up everywhere, and thus lead to the gradual seeping into society’s fluid, mixing in and setting in as the catalyst for the unspeakable. It is in my notion that: all that we claim to be ugly now, will in turn emerge glorious again. And the world: it will leisurely acknowledge itself, emanating it‘s familiar, majestic, prestigious, domineering, all so very august and horrendous beauty. The disgust we once harboured with the world will then vanquish. There will only reside the disgust for ones self.

“Everything can be seen as a word. We have to look at the right words, in our own dictionary.”
“Presumed insane people, to me: are merely ones who see things others don’t.”
“It is in my notion that: all that we claim to be ugly now: will in turn emerge glorious again. And the world, it will leisurely acknowledge itself, emanating it‘s familiar, majestic–prestigious–domineering, all so very august and horrendous beauty.”
“Knowing nothing, means being groundless. I like being groundless, not restricted to one level, not simply seeing an imaginary horizon. I can fly.. and see all the suckers down there.”
“Common sense is for common people. Idealists don’t limit to the commonness, for us, there are no senses-only perception- only the mind, and the ideas.”
“We are all born knowing nothing, so does that make us all equal?”

-Melissa Koay