To all things gruesome

What now seems idiot-level simple to me dawned on me like a fresh face while I was walking through Union Square this afternoon: all things by which we might be repulsed (images or the things themselves) are natural, as in human or animal, living or once living-- the blood, vomit, urine, feces, bones, torn flesh, scabs reopened, dirty tongues salivating, puckered emaciated bellies, stab wounds, rotten food-- I find that I can't even conjure something repulsive that is man-made, that doesn't resemble some carboned based creature of the earth. Who has ever seen a modern or PoMo sculpture that resembles nothing but abstract, cold shapes and been driven to reel back? And even then: the shapes are based on shapes of what's been here all along, so if one is reeling, it is in recognition of something, some triggered memory, of a vile image from the past.

More evidence! Where should we be looking but at ourselves: I knew it! Why are we not all artists? The deepest, most core-tender, searing actions and reactions, emotions across the spectrum, they are all spawned from

i can't look at myself. i am repulsed. but clearly, there's no where but here

plagued with eternal internal inspection, or else really--

--who's learning a damn thing?