This is comedic genius, Harold Lloyd, hanging from this clock. Yeah, he did it for real. He actually free-climbed this tall building entirely. He managed to do a ton of prat falls along the way. Harold owned comedy in a way that Chaplin and Keaton did, but so many others did not. I prefer Lloyd because he never got sentimental and was crazier than Jackie Chan when it came to physical feats.
Time, we borrow it, consume it, watch it drift away. David Bowie once sang in his song "Time", off of Alladinsane, "Time - He's waiting in the wings. He speaks of senseless things. His script is you and me boys."
It seems that Time has its way with us. What can we do? We don't even own this thing that we spend. What do we own?
Moments, feelings, memories: Time may alter those, erode them, but we own it. I have wanted to take a singular moment from my life and build a vibration from it. I want that vibration to shatter my existence and reveal everlasting bliss, then follow it. I can take a smile and meditate on it, not the meaning, but the mantra of a smile. It makes sense to me, at least. Maybe I am from another planet, but I have meditated on your smile, even though you have pulled away from me. I own that smile, those memories, that fascination, the moments, the way that I feel, and have felt.
Time, you are my muse, my lover, my landlord. When my rent is due, I hope to have spent you wisely--Time. But, Time, you will never take away what I own.