Diamonds


A term has been bouncing around my head of late, for no particular reason at all. It’s been mentioned in movies that I haven’t seen in a while, and possibly on the news, which I haven’t been following. I thought about it while bussing tubs. I thought about it while biking to work. I thought about it in class and on set and I haven’t the slightest idea why. The term kind of appeals to the soul, in that same warped way that a car accident appeals to the eye.

“Conflict diamond.”

It stands that blood is a much more valuable currency that dollars. You can buy anything with a substance that occurs naturally in your own body. Gold is to blood as silver is to sweat. Don’t really know where to rank tears. Perhaps they are priceless.

It’s been said that a great idea is like a diamond. ‘Hard to find, useless in and of itself, and impossible to hold on to.’ Makes a whole lot of sense. What makes one electrical discharge in your brain better than all the rest? What makes other brains zap in the same way? What impregnates said brains with new currents, driving them to quicken the heartbeat and strain muscle and membrane to carry it out; that it may be taken for granted by brains in bodies not yet corporeal.

What makes a diamond a diamond?

What makes a face ugly and a painting of it beautiful? What makes me skeptical as to the beauty of my own work? And at what point does a stream of consciousness devolve into a ramble? Perhaps it was born as such.

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