I don't exactly love this (Last post)

I love when I am on the precipice of my responsibilities and turn to this blog,  it's a shame to think I might not be using it anymore in favor of the blog on my art website.  (which is the only thing providing me with food,  what little food that is.)  I would rather go hungry than miss rent however,  I have got to much honor for that.  I don't want my family to think I am not alright.  Hopefully the person who so avidly wanted to buy my painting last night is the same one today.  I am tired of talking responsibility,  that's all I fucking do now.  I don't go to parties to chill,  I go to them to advertise.  I have no choice,  50 job applications in the past month with no interview,  this town is perfect otherwise. 

College is a paradox of irony,  the goal is to earn money.  But if you have no scholarships,  parental help, or a job it is the act of losing money,  and lots of it.   In this process a person can fail classes if they are trying to pay for living expenses,  my problem is that I have to type 10 pages for a research paper,  earn over 300 dollars,  and pass a vastly understudied math exam to go to csu which was my reason for moving up here in the first place.  All of this in a week,   and steve is not so anxious to give car rides so it's like up to 3 hours of time pissed away riding my bike in the cold every day for these classes.  It was so dumb of me to do such a spaced out schedule.  ahhh that was a good rant I suppose. 

I honestly wish I could just go to school sometimes,  I honestly wish I could just make some sort of living off of art sometimes,  it's a vicious circle of wishes.  I know I have always wished to live in South America,  just by my birth we know the answer to that question.  It's turning me into this bitter person that when I meet rich college kids who have their parents paying for everything it makes me want to punch them in the mouth,  almost out of curiosity to see if they would even care the next day, I know I wouldn't if I was in the same boat.  Now it is time to talk to my teacher about this D paper I turned in.  It wasn't like I didn't research,  I researched for weeks.  It wasn't like I didn't know how to write a rhetorical analysis,  I have done it so many times I want to vomit.  It was because that paper turned into bitter opinion,  I basically shouted for hours in essence. Completely losing sight of the argument and turning it onto society.  Should I just blame this upon ignorance?  upon drugs?  Does a giant pile of K a night really hinder a person that much?  Or is it more like the motivation?

Is it more like the need to escape bullshit proceeds it,  and proceeds it,  and proceeds it?   I am fully capable,  just not willing.  Like any other drug abuser I know.  I partied hard and studied hard for 2 years,  I know it is possible.  We need some more motivation in the world!  Says the lazy man.  Like that would keep us motivated,  it is only at the fear of reprisal that we really gain motivation. Sometimes I like to fail,  secretly I really do.  I think we all do,  sometimes.   It's the fear reprisal from all of whom that we love that we try,  or it is a very large part of it at the very least.  I'm sorry for making my last blog on this page be bitter,  but I am pretty sure that is how it started.  I must move on to entertain the mob for some bread.  big fucking surprise there.

Here is another pretentious and opinionated blog post with no credible sources what so ever. 

But what sources really are credible? 

Creativity Dying

This is the sign of creativity dying.  There is no need to explain it,  the world does this for me.  The over population of mankind has yielded a flaw much more subtle than environmental destruction.  No,  we are much more intricate than that,  if anything we will self destruct from a self fulfilling prophecy like a black hole.

 Our own magnitude crushes us,  hinders us into utter obliteration just to be anomaly of "modern physics."

It is our own self appreciation of the human spirit that leaves the best of us unnoticed.  It is of the popular opinion that the number one market is love,  love is who we are.  Human beings are unique in that they love things.  Really?  Everything loves;  any naturalist can look at a scene of nature and realise that everything around us loves to be alive,  otherwise it wouldn't be here. . . 

The creativity o humanity is dwindling,  everything has already been done.  I'm definitely not even the first person to say this.  Thank you Lennon.   There is only so much you can do with a limited universe, as we can tell.   Hopefully,  as we are coming to discover,  there is more than one universe.  Like when we thought that we were the center of the galaxy,  maybe one day the paradigm shift will oscillate towards the notion that we, in fact, are not the center of all existence. 

The creativity of man can only get so far as we have seen,  simply because our eyes have only seen so much as to what there is to be.  This is the sign of creativity dying,  when everybody has credibility to copy all the old masters.  There is only one Dali,  there is only one Hendrix.  I have seen,  like any other talented individual that people have no recognition,  or at least no withstanding memory of the greatest feats of humanity.  I have experimented and found out that if you tell any random party-goer that you are Salvador Dali they won't even realise who that is.  They cling only on the word that you are "famous"  That you are an "artist",  the master of the trade.  Respect goes about as far as half of your influence on a crowd of people;  once they realize that everyone else is cheering,  they raise their hands in the air for a cause they don't even know about. 

 Creativity is dying because anybody can make their claim to fame;  when you look at a page for a local band on myspace,  who is commenting on their page?  Nothing but other bands!  Once in a while you come across one random friend trying to support them.  Now on a page made by some random fan (not even the Band.) you see hundreds of people making their pledges,  even when they most likely are putting up their comment to leech a small portion of the fame from all the other fans praising the musical conglomerate.   Otherwise a true fan would try to contact the band themselves. . . . maybe actually buy their album instead of downloading it for free.  Creativity is dying because no one person can keep track of all the ridiculous amount of talent flowing from this overabundance of tools,  media, and knowledge.  Society is at a crisis,  like it always is.  But people can become way too distracted before the room we are in is becoming exceedingly uncomfortable from the amount of people flooding in.  Just do me a favor,  think critically of our actions at least once in a lifetime.  please. 


"The Only way,  to Truly Live,  is to excercise in my free will!"  ~Marlo Narwhal

Dreamscape imagery in a scene of Reality.

I had a dream last night that shocked my reality.  In my dream I was at a party with a bunch of my friends and assorted subconscious people I probably made up.  Somehow I eventually realized that I was in a dream as I was talking to them.  It was at this part where the dream took a dramatic turn.  I started shouting at them because I knew there would be no repercussions,  I was screaming at them for all I was worth telling them how they don't actually exist and that they could never understand that.  

My screams fell upon deaf ears.  They were largely unresponsive with eyes full of fear. 

I then got extremely frustrated and grabbed a particular box of pencils.  This was a box of drawing pencils that belonged to my father probably when he was an artist.  I'm sure he made it i.e. him being a carpenter.  I took this box of pencils when I moved out and put a photo of him in them.  They have a particular meaning to me and they actually draw quite well.  Anyways I took this box of pencils and threw them all at the party guests and the pencils stopped in the air almost in slow motion.  I watched as everything in the room sort of split apart in a sort of nuclear mysticism type deal.   What did this mean? 

The more I think about this dream the more I think it is an analogy of real life.  When you scream at people they don't want to talk to you,  this is not how you understand a person.   And like a person in your dream you cannot treat them like their existence means nothing;

  does your subconscious mind like it when you yell at it?

 Like the people that are the product of my mind the people all around me in reality are connected to me in similarities.  we all dream,  we all communicate,  we all feel pain and joy.  When we look at each other are we only looking at a mirror image?  It seems like the person looking back at me is the same but a little different. 

Luckily the dream didn't actually happen;  right? 

Are those people still suffering in my mind?  Or did my mind let them move on with their party,  as if I was the rude guest they kicked out. . . . . 

 Or is it that when we go to parties in real life and that one person who can't hold their drugs and lets loose on everybody is coming fresh from another waking world? 

Why can't we seem to understand that sometimes a person yelling at us isn't just a blatant attack?  What if they are trying to tell us something?  Something that wouldn't hit our ears until it was being hammered in.  Shocking us into the truth.   What is the best thing to do?  It seems as though peoples voices raise when the person they are talking to is failing to see their perspective,  arguments escalate.  It's as if we think that when we dominate the dimension of volume and get a persons ears to hear nothing but us over their own voice that they will actually hear us. 

If I confronted a person telling me that I didn't exist and didn't know it I would tell them,"maybe I don't exist,  I definitely don't know.  But how do you know that you exist?"


How do we know that reality isn't just a dream we all share?

tied up in a parawad

It seems to me that a schizophrenic person could probably understand reality better than a normal person because he can get two perspectives.  A more unimaginative person will never know if the world he sees is some elaborate day dream as he shifts outward on the mundane spiral of routine towards death.  If my life was just a dream and I woke up in another world,  would I forget it?  and if I didn't,  would I write it down? 

and after a lifetime of writing,  would I even want to?

It seems like all my memories are composed of fragments that jump from scene to scene.  Once I was playing with a toy,  next I am looking at fish in a pond.  Then comes the explanation of how the entire day unfolded,  but only sparse details of the exciting things.  Is this not how my brain systematically recovers my dreams?  Maybe every night I sleep is a day I wake in another time.  What is the difference between times and places when each one is constantly changing?  Without the sun we have no concept of time,  no concept of change or weather.

 Without light there is no distinction of darkness and same of light.  Could the automatic processes of life exist independently of these traits?  What classifies life?  death maybe?  Matter has energy,  matter has movement.  There is no true pattern to how it organizes itself,  an ink drop in water makes a different pattern every time but it always sinks.  Life is a pocket of order in chaos,  like any pocket of order it doesn't last.  Like a brief spiral in a river. Life is classified by patterns and repetition.

But do we really die? Even after the heart stops beating the brain is still alive.  Even after all our tissue dissolves the energy in the particles still exists.  Maybe life is what eats the energy of the universe,  maybe life is what recycles it. 

So long as there is matter there is life,  so long as there is energy there is matter,  what begets energy?  Is it life?  Is existence a constant rock, paper, scissors match?   Entropy has always seemed like an optimistic situation to me,  everything just simply burns out right?  Left to be the coals of a long dead fire pit in the mountains.  Is the universe just a program opened on a laptop without a charger?  The overall entropy and decay of the universal battery.  Or maybe it is a division of labor, where energy can take over while matter rests,  the great journey to nowhere.  I hope that the human race doesn't last long enough to realize we weren't progressing to some great end to all means.  Maybe evolution is the inevitable taking of turns for species in this limitless microcosm.  Is the universe only our little pleasant self sustaining cube or is it more like a house of a naive child being fed electricity, gas,  and water from a seemingly limitless supply? 

I'm glad that by discovering that matter cannot be created or destroyed we didn't in fact start destroying a part of the universe that could never be returned.  But the flaw of this rule is that it doesn't factor in duplication,  what if it wasn't created but rather grew unto itself?   It doesn't take a genius to realize that ourselves and the world we see around us is ruled by concepts and definitions,  awareness and intelligence are created from a mutual consensus of belief.  Instinct was born from the unordained consensus to survive and reproduce. Instict flourished when that consensus became mutual.  Love is survival,  if we work together we survive.  Love will never die so long as death is stalking behind it,  much similar to a fuse that cannot stop because of its own volition.  Love says, "let's go until the bomb explodes."  the ultimate fuck until death.  In all reality a limited universe means limited questions,  but only one conclusion;  we are trapped. 

The Capitalism of Dogma

Fighting and War is our nature as human beings,  much like the natural world but not quite.  Humans cannot perform symbiosis like a lichen can.  We never have allowed another species to enjoy the spoils of being human quite as whole heartedly.  The closest living things we willingly allow to live on our bodies is bacteria,  and so it should be because we are just like them.   Everything else we feed must be kept in boxes.

  And how do we justify the rape of nature?  We say that nature was put here to serve us. 

Really?  I think the sentence isn't finished;  God made nature to serve us and he also made us to leech off of nature. 

We say God made us in his image and that we are his children,  yet at the same time we say that humans are born into sin, and that we are evil. 

Since when does that make sense? 

Only a capitalistic society such as America would condone a religion that instills the idea that life is the gain of passage into heaven,  that there is a toll.  Only a war based religion would make the statement that it is the only right way and any other form of worship is evil.  I think collection plates are evil,  I think that the fact that the defining image of a faith is a man hanging from a cross is evil,  I think that men preaching of blind faith is evil,  I think that subjecting universal morals into 10 tiny commandments is downright ignorant.  Where is "thou shalt not own a slave?"  every book of the bible speaks of a different god. 

I believe that if there was a christian god he would not believe in Churches,   god would not want a single man to put words in his mouth for him.  God wants all of the authority.  Churches are the organization of men,  not gods. 

I feel like 1% of the population actually try to think for themselves. 

"freedom of choice is what you have,  freedom from choice is what you want."

The Crystal K

Ah you sweet substitute for those secret,  unaccounted for joys in life. 
Nothing can harm me within the palm of your hand
Doors of serenity are granted new confidence of this easy going tide,

Inside. . .  but
More so engulfed,  by the sea of light spilling into my eye

Green effervescent shadows dapple across the dark sea
Of open eyes,
Nostalgia of reality grips me in the heat of
Eternity but ephemeral beauty still has it's own comet in the night sky.
.
.
.
.

Moving out

Yes it was long overdue,  and I am days away.  It hasn't really hit me yet. . . .  I have been so ridiculously busy with finding jobs, registering for classes,  and a lot of other riff raff.  I've had some moments where I sit and look at how far I have come and relax.  But I am mostly dominated by constant stress.  And what do I do under duress?  Strange,  strange things. 

I play lots of music,  make lots of art,  read about string theory,  watch videos about string theory. . . . .  It's almost as if I think that understanding the complexities of the universe will help me solve my debt. 

But all of this is for that one ticket;  CSU.  Finally a major university is within my grasp after much deliberation and so many turns of events.  I was close to forgetting that deal I made with myself when I dropped out.  But I can't even focus on this long term goal,  I only keep thinking ahead of that.  Then I want to go to art school.  Then what?  Win the Nobel prize?  Paint a masterpiece?  It is almost like those are somewhat tangible goals if I could only focus on something.  It feels as if the purpose of every person on earth has to focus to a point and then explode before they die.  Every person has their niche. 

Pablo Picasso is a great poet,  nobody knows this.  He said that one day he is going to be known for being a poet and not a painter.  Wishful thinking.  It is impossible at this point.  Like any renaissance man people will seek out only the things that are needed in that time period.  In a period of great surrealism and art he was a painter.  If poetry was the craze at the time than that's what people would want. 

That's the great thing about being a child,  you get to plant all these seeds of inspiration and possibility and then when you are an adult you have to pick the most profitable tree and kill the rest of them.  The rest gets denigrated into little "hobbies."  God I hate that word,  it makes me think of old ladies and crackers. 

This may be pessimistic but I am quite happy.  I saw the apartment today and it was better than I hoped.  I am so stoked for this,  although the first coming months might be tough.  Ramen noodles all the way!

The Fear

I have gotten the Fear,  it is a common anomaly of such subtle intricacy.  The fear that every waking moment is only an unraveling of the threads of the fabric of space and time.  The tapestry can only look so vivid when the fibers mesh together and compress into that vast 2 dimensional plane.  I cannot be as beautiful being only a strand of string floating and congealing on the meniscus of the sea of space in the grand beaker thrown into the centrifuge to be evaluated and determine that in fact the secret to life was that we were never the only ones and that there are many secrets. 

How can we unravel a mystery when the strings within our ball of yarn are only in fact many tiny strings composed of even smaller balls of yarn too small for our hands to reach.  I still have the fear.

The greatest fear we have about our own paranoia is that it was in fact ______.  the light slowly reveals the mass of fur and muscle and the shimmering pool of an opaque black lake that rests in the crater of the dormant volcanic peak that is the eye of the beast.  It was never the fact that he is there now but it was the fact that we thought we were safe the whole time while the monsters inevitably sat and waited by our sides.

  the fear disables me from living,  the fear enables me to stay alive,  in all I am left unfinished, unresolved, undone.

SEX!SEX!SEX!SEX!SEX!SEX!XES!XES!XES!XES!XES!

Those with children get the economy size funerals and go by undoubtedly popular,  is there any way that we might forget how to make children or at least lose the will to go on?  Or will we just; and then; until; or when; we; die; forget how to lie; see if: it were; up to me; so see; that when; we, go, on, we don't, go, on, but actually, destroy, the host,

in sweet sensuous waves we echo repeatedly in a cataclysm of pleasure and divine bliss spilling over and overflowing from our overjoyed phantasmal neural reverberation of flowing prana and waves of energy  into a network of vigorous vivid neon capillaries of life and sweet resonance of the greatest melody it was then and only then that I realised that no,  we cannot stop.

 Our bacterial heritage still has a grip on our smallest molecule of      D.     N.      A     too far for the scrutiny of a lens of any magnitude it was here yes, here,  that only the keenest of eyes could spot the colony of planets crying out for release,  singing their sweet songs for only one melody to be heard by the greatest birth known to time where at one moment the child realizes, "yes! I have heard the song!" 

What is to be made of this thought process?  After all what action is to be taken? One could say deal with it,  things die everyday.  I find it funny that these are the ones that panic the most when something steals their breath away.  I can't find any outlets anymore my power is dwindling,  I haven't cleansed myself in ages,  I have not rested since the moment that trip began.  I cannot remember exactly where but it has been going for years if not decades,  when will I die and wake back up in that crib where it began?

coming to terms with what I have done

Guilt as ridden as a self proposed intersection of bad decisions laced with good intentions.  At one point I thought it was natural,  at one point I thought it was divine but at each and every nexus I found out it could be so wrong it felt like it outweighed the right. 

Give unto me some sort of serenity that a rhyme could not save from being interjected by some sort of reason for it to be untrue.  what can I tell you?  That it in fact was not real,  or at least it was very real.  Probably as blunt and as real as it gets,  so real it scares us into a deep hibernation of snow and fear. 

You are bold enough to face that fear while I on the other hand cower in the palm of nature,  so then what can I tell you?  That it was a byproduct of anger?
 our teeth clashing and squeezed fabric gnashing at the seams of my knuckles,

 pulling onto something brings me around to so fond a memory of the greatest trauma of being clawed and ripped from the mother of all feminine beauty and the natural succession of seasons and perpetuation of the continuation of the moods and feelings of gaia. 

Oh how the art speaks true to the original creator the one who found that 2 dimensional plane riddled with 3 dimensional characters.  He who scratched the surface and broke the picture plane with one destructive indulgent but incredibly keen stroke of destruction widdling down the surface of the chalky residual tower leaving its fine film stretched and flowing in a frozen paste upon the lifeless rock.  It is lifeless but it can move,  it can't talk but it can hum and resonate,  it cannot eat but it can consume and grow,  it cannot feel but it can be scarred and ravaged,  it cannot see but it can know the light of day,  it communicates not through procreation but through regeneration through the residual waves of time.  Give it time and the markings etched across it's face will one day sing of the same artistic expression of the many valleys and peaks of erosion. 

But there is always that guilt that what I thought was beautiful creation and regeneration is in fact complete annihilation and destruction for another.  This we cannot change,  this we cannot control, there is only so much, so much you can do we can do anything in our box but leave, we can do anything outside the box but have control it has no whim no feel no light no real no trees no cars no sound but bars no flight no cries no lies no skies it has nothing outside of it.  this cage of laws, of thermodynamics.  You don't want to think about this because you think that one certain combination of good deeds will get you out,  but I'll tell you purity is within the eyes of the beholder.  An ego is all you have to becoming an individual,  you can drop it all you can and it will come flying back up again,  sky high for a sigh once again we wave goodbye to the end of the story of pertinent purpose within a meaning of a self ridden half begotten way to end all ways for the next episode on how to create an existence in 7 days.

Were our lives just all a countdown?

7
6
5
4
3
2
1

ignition.


next stop


 eternity


What sounds appealing is what ends up being our greatest optimism as if meaning and purpose were a day spent shoe shopping or browsing the grass for the best tasting vegetation.  Do you want to be judged?  Than be judged! do you want to be god? than be god! do you want the rest of your existence to be an endless cycle of orgasms?  Than you will be the eternally functioning self propelling masturbator.  Endless energy,  endless pleasure,  endless dance,  endless joy,  tickling the greatest nerve in your body until your internal clock breaks and your cd skips and plays over and over again.  Everyones ideal heaven is somewhere where they don't have to serve anybody,  the American dream is obesity. 

Wouldn't it be hell if everything you wanted to happen happened and you could never stop changing your mind?

Somebody decide for me,  apparently I can't make any good decisions anymore. 

Last words?  FIRE!!!!

Spell check cannot make you make sense.

Swiftly contorting kneecaps and intracellular cross labeled messages congeal lightly upon the rapids of every one of my blank states of mind.  It is left without a singular cellular backdrop to fall onto and no personality I can refer to,  it is nothing more than a state of humdrum melancholy that leaves me with a question of perspicacity as to why I continued to continue, and keep staying busy.

One more round of blocked junctions in my mind in order to come closer to the sweet bliss of rest.  Life is work since the moment we start dividing things into sections and building onto ourselves to make a great block tower of domination to show to our teachers that we can continue playing the game without question.  My father before me and his father before he shows no mercy or capacity of knowing what in fact he could actually be in he continued to be after he was not he just like I have slowly learned to not be that which is me. Lies are creativity as are lies leaps of faith,  we make a lie to see what it can accomplish just like we take a turn to meet a dead end or a highway,  personally I would rather stop at the dead end to park and dance flowing webbed knowing internal completion of thought unraveling into each others interconnected globe of personality whilst all partying to the end of nobodies means in a parking lot of self prescribed endless fiasco's of color and meaning binding of ideas and the mating of entirely different conscious beings it was a traveling music circus and museum of antipodal self inebriating bodies that felt the feeling of rhythm so powerful and melody so meaningful that they became whatever it was that the circumventer and out of means proportion giver gave to sought with lyrical whimsy so divine,

we just had to say yes.

Did you know that we were once energy and that we could not help but to resist one another until x could become y as much as positive could run around negative in an inevitable endless circle around a tree trying to understand the concept of the other side. seeing is knowing and hearing is believing as is feeling is being and smelling detecting as is tasting is meaning,  we could so easily lose taste and still feel satisfaction in fullness whilst knowing what we can imbibe from what we smell and the process of elimination is key in becoming perfect it takes only the killing of several thousands of the weak to help feed the strong and some say nature does the same thing but we are fine examples of where nature went wrong.  Evolution like reality is a concept within itself that cannot exist without existing and seems to be the general outcome of throwing in our dice in the first place to gamble for that incessant need of an allegorical comparative to the smart philosophical naysayer kings that ultimately judge the right actions for the right means but only then may he too be poor to discover that the philosopher king is a king of the peoples and thus a king of himself just another cog in the machine of ants working on the tunnels for their pheromone producing queen. 

Who had to say that life was but a dream when I in fact see that the dream was in fact life but it was the abrupt awakening of death that tightened the seam.

This is not my body anymore

6:30 am. haven't slept in days and I'm not even on drugs.  I don't feel like I know who I am anymore,  I am slowly watching myself lose control.  Who knows what's going to happen when I can get a grip on myself again.  I keep feeling like there is some sort of change I can make in my routine and life that will get me going in the right direction.  A new haircut, quiting my job, moving out.  I keep pulling these illusions over my head.  Now I don't want to eat, I don't want to sleep, I don't want to shower, or talk to very many people for that matter. I am in a bizarre state where I can't go without constantly playing music or painting.  It's my only sustenance in a cell with bars constructed from my needs.  It is my desire for stimulation and entertainment that will kill me one day.  Desire for a worthwhile purpose. but I am too much of a rough critic. 

Childish Optimism

I hope we don't already know everything about the world and I hope we never do.  The more conclusions we make about our existence the more we build a box around ourselves. 

A concert away from the earth

The entire red rocks amphitheatre stuffed to the brim and parking lots full of drug crazed loons.  I was in the 6th row and images of 10,000 days album art was being projected onto the clouds.  The bonds that were made between all the people lost in the music together were beyond words.  All we could do was look at each other and shake hands with our dumbfounded looks.  Now I am sitting here and all I want is to go back.  This really sucks,  every time we feel something amazing our capacity for normal life just becomes so shot.  All we want is more.  As if life was something to have and posses.  I don't have the time or the desire to buy a bunch of souvenirs.  Such a beautiful experience,  the whole night afterwards was great.  Some of the most unappreciated people are the ones that should be appreciated the most.  Adam and Maggie;  I will never forget taking turns being in the drivers seat.  hahaha.

I hate, that is all I do.

I hate when you are so angry and drunk that the only thing you can do is go to sleep to feel better.  How debilitating.  Too angry to express myself in any form other than just breaking down and crying.  Fuck this feeling. 

Meditation

Is better than any drug I have ever taken by tens of thousands of leagues beyond any idea I could possibly have thought was satisfaction. 

I just came out of a deep hour and a half experience and several things happened:

I couldn't hear my breathing and I didn't feel it either.  Breath was completely void.  I slowly left my body,  most of what happened is almost impossible to remember.  It was pure serenity is all I can tell you.  I had some things revealed to me that were troubling and lots of self repair was in order. 

After this portion however I got the craziest feeling I have ever gotten in my life,  I feel a hand pushing on my forehead.  I started to focus on the feeling and it was starting to get painful,  I felt my forehead right above my eyes but in the center being pried apart and it was like my brain was radiating out.  Then I felt a growing sensation which I would like to say is similar to an eye busting out of your head.  The pain started to get ridiculously unbearable and the eye was now boring into my head in this giant spiral.  I started trying to find ways to alleviate the pain,  first was maybe to look through this eye and see what was out there.  Nothing but strange things.  Then I felt like I walked around my head until I found a sort of tumor and I cut it out.  Then the pain went away,  I heard a sort of bell noise.  and slowly regained consciousness. 

All I can say is WOW!  Meditation is very, VERY powerful.  and this is coming from one of the biggest skeptics you can find.  My forehead still feels sore and my mind utterly fucked and dumbfounded.
Several of my fearful questions have been answered. 

The post that never posted, careful it is long and religious.

Sometimes when I am starting to wake up and reach a half awake and half asleep state, I feel like I can occupy every corner of the objects around me and the room itself. Then I bounce back and forth between them in a sort of dance. It can be quite blissful even though I do not quite understand it.  Maybe I am accessing the part of my subconscious mind that passively measures all of the dimensions around me and then the constant dancing between the points is the harmony that ties the room together.




 I think that is why I believe I prefer to be outside than inside because it is then that my mind flies off to vast distances to dance between the farthest reaches of the universe and the deepest facets of the earth and my own inner world.  This shape in my mind is definitely not of a square room,  maybe a giant sphere I am not sure.  I simply love the harmony of disharmony (hahaha),  to me it is simply conflicting forces that give each other purpose like a ying yang.  But I am not going to delve into that.  I am going to be more personal; introspective for a moment.



So I have reached a realization that I have been dire of finding for these past 9 months or so.  Ever since I had my first psychedelic experience at the end of last summer I have been exponentially spiraling more and more outward into mass paranoia,  a very negative space.  I have these recurring thoughts about life and what exactly it means in relation to the universe.  Now I don't believe these things entirely,  I simply feel afraid of them.  Most of you wouldn't know me to be a believer of most things,  everything must be examined and understood for me.  That is just who I am. 



But anyways I have these several drug induced paranoia's that have spiraled out of control,  one of them being the thought that life is a virus.  Or let's say a very small part of a giant organism,  that is killing it.  I am not sure if there ever was a virus that could have become self aware and ultimately kill itself in a noble act of martyrdom.  I think that this action is unprecedented in nature,  it simply would not suffice for evolution.  The act of living or growing for any organism is what drives us to survive,  to love each other (in most cases our own species over most.)  Considering in theory that life emerged from simple single celled organisms it would not suffice for a virus to become self aware. 



Or is it the other case?  Haven't we heard of all these miracle cures,  leaving doctors puzzled as to how the hell something just happened?  Regardless this is one of the paranoias I have,  usually I can reason my way out of it but paranoia is quite tricky.  It will not listen to reason,  because one can become paranoid of what reason exactly is.  Maybe I was taught to believe it?



My second paranoia is that of a religious zeal,  from a drug episode in which I thought that I went to hell.  And then when I came out of it I thought I never left.  But this was even more maniacal in the fact that I believed I was born into hell.  The worst kind of hell for any human being is that they were born there,  and that everyone is born there eternally for all generations to suffer. 



See this isn't a far step to conclusions if you already believe in heaven or hell.  Because if you believe these things then there is absolutely no certainty that you are not already in one of those places,  where is the transition?  I don't think someone comes up to you and says, "Hi Dom,  this is heaven!"  or "guess what?  Your in hell now."  The first reaction would be denial,  because any person off the street at this very moment could tell me that.  Trust is a scary thing,  not trusting yourself is even scarier.  That is my definition of paranoia,  not trusting yourself.  Regardless every time I am in some sort of room and lots of people are staring at me I feel this fear.  Like it is my personal hell in which everyone I love suffers as well.  Regardless of whether it is physically true. Especially when I am at a party where people are doing lots of drugs,  I feel this fear that this was our downfall or at least my own.



*Tangent* FUCK D.A.R.E,  it does not teach you anything but ignorance and not only that but to develop a fear of understanding.  They better get rid of that program in elementary schools if have kids.  I didn't even know what drugs were until I took those stupid classes,  I would have been drug free much longer.  But regardless not all drugs are bad,  excess is what is bad.  In just about everything,  but they will never preach that to children of course not.  This is the U.S mother fucking A! *Tangent*



That is my second paranoia,  the third is a little more subtle and hard to describe but I really have trouble getting around it.  I have continued to spiral out into the weird as you can tell for this next one.  My next fear was from the experience that made me quit everything except alcohol for the past couple of months.  Basically it is a process that delineates reality,  I get a feeling of perpetual non-solidarity.  That we consist of a flat image of reality twisting and contorting into a perpetual gaseous state.  We are not aware that we are running in a perpetual loop of time.  It is like an atheist hell,  where there was no higher beings to save us and life survived long enough to approach a sort of never ending black hole.  Where the universe starts in a big bang,  expands,  contracts,  and approaches a compressing anomaly that ultimately doomed any sort of progress.  I take this fear as a fear that progress has no solidarity,  which is an analogy for the very likely possibility that it does not.  I just simply have to come to terms with it. Which brings me to what I was writing about in the first place. 



I basically have been unable to get past the aftermath  of all of these bad trips for a while now.  I decided I cannot leave that realm on a bad note and have the ingredients for the mother of all brews; ayahuasca, yage, whatever you wish to call it.  It is the most spiritual of concoctions and there are religions based around this substance that has been brewed in the deep heart of the world in primevil Amazonia for centuries.  So when I was looking up experience reports I found one that mentioned one word, "kundalini experience."  I was very curious to see what that was. 



I went to some yoga site that gave a basic format for it and all that chakra business.  I started to read about how to meditate and I have always been curious as to how it works.  basically being a man of logic it was hard at first,  but I believe that when it comes to yoga changing words like "prana" to say balance of breathing and balance of mind makes the transition easier.  I got into the second stage of the process and balanced my breathing to flow through both nostrils which is actually quite hard,  and the outcome was that I was fully rejuvenated.  I had a calming feeling of a wave of energy or "breath" coursing through my body.  I was just at body worlds today and after seeing all the ridiculously small and intricate alveoli of the lungs I could feel the air penetrate into all of the branches of my lungs and I realized a sense of reality.  A sense of resolve and reason about my life.  This I realised should be steps I should take before my next and final psychotropic experience.  I must master meditation to calm myself before the inevitable plunge and resolve the demons that have manifested in my mind so I do not simply enter the loop of negativity once more and continue my perpetual paranoia.  I feel confident and ready now.  Now I can get back to painting.

Death

Just this moment I was thinking about what I will leave behind me when I die;  a fairly large corpse, thousands of words,  millions of footprints,  several metric tons of junk tallied up over the years,  a car,  all the money I spent,  all the trash I have thrown away,  the billions of yard trimmings stuffed into black trash bags(which never made sense to me by the way.),  not to mention the thousands of breaths I stole from the world and yet I feel myself wanting more. 

we are all living the American dream;  to leave behind a lifetimes' supply of junk. 

All I really feel like I left behind that is worthwhile is my writing,  my paintings, and my experiences with people.  Sooner or latter we all realise that it all is communication,  a painting left unobserved is like a shout in the wind.  Yes maybe it felt good to shout,  but it would have been better to be heard.  The things that we feel are worthwhile in our lives are the things that impact people,  otherwise it is lost among the pile of rocks and trash. 

Now what does the common deer have to worry about when it dies of old age?  It does not have to have health insurance,  it doesn't have to worry about its children who pranced off into the woods long ago,  it has no heaping pile of trash in its wake;  a deers legacy is simply itself.  A beautiful beast capable of perfect survival for eons.  and it is not stingy with it.  The deer does not care if its legacy gets ravaged by wolves,  buried in dirt and decomposed.  The deers legacy is that it provided vital energy for the creatures around it.  Ah nature,  I envy you.

Stability is something you should never seek in your life,  it is impossible.  Yes I sound absolutely bat shit crazy to say that but it is true.  It is an unspoken agreement that we do not speak of stability in such a way.  If it were up to human beings we would encase ourselves in diamonds to be appreciated forever,  but even diamonds can be smashed to dust in time.  we cannot preach stability when we are living under a giant ball of fire that threatens to explode and dissolve any semblance of a living earth from the cosmic record.  So yes I will say it again,  nothing is permanent.  Leaving a  Legacy is a fools quest for immortality,  I am sure somebody has said that before me.  We should give each other meaning,  because in this tiny pocket of the universe all we have is each other. 

Brave optimism

Every single one of us has a demon and an angel within, and they are constantly at battle until we die. If christianity stands correct than we are standing in the middle of a giant war. This giant war as christianity would have it is what gives the earth its existence. So when we look at ourselves we only see a product of war. Which we should, because not only are we a product of battle but every single easy going creature on this green earth is. Evolution is a battle of life against a non-living existence. Evolution is also a battle of life vs. life. It is all a very simple analogy to the bible, and the bible a simple analogy of life. god is the first species, satan is the species that breaks off from it. satan is deemed evil simply because he left. Satan is deemed evil simply because he wanted to grow, to change. For the better? But what is the difference between that and desiring strength, power. Mastery over each other. In the game of mastery, Hydrogen wins by far. The impact and number of humans pales in comparison.




The explanation for the bible is fairly simple actually, people living on this earth, especially the philosophers were thoroughly opposed to life being war. They were opposed to engaging in total indulgence, they simply wanted to preach temperance. Which isn't bad, but the idea of hell isn't necessary. Most of the philosophers who preach temperance, preach it with an authority that if we engage in excess there is consequences. Which still goes back to survivalism, the great battle that is existence. If you are enjoying more than me, you should pay for it. Sibling rivalry. Christians are right, we are all brothers and sisters. With God as our father and Satan as our mother. Yes I said it, blasphemy, talking back to my parents. I had to reach spiritual puberty sometime.



I call satan our mother because he supposedly played a part in our becoming according to chrisitianity. ( In Conjunction with god. Sounds a lot like reproduction to me) Otherwise we would all be in gods house right now with no “evil”. I think God was a word we humans have made up to simply describe, “the beginning.” So I would rather call him the start, not god. Anyways what I am trying to get at here is that we can only see the world through our eyes, we can only evaluate what we see with our brains, we can only hear what we are capable of hearing and when we try to go beyond that we make up our own answers. We lie. Religion is not a lie, it is an analogy; the lie is that religion is reality. Reality is a concept that is quite beyond us and in my opinion is the craziest concept known in the human dictionary. Reality is also something that we believe we can establish through other people, but we must realise that the one who makes it up is the one who dictates what is real. Knowledge in itself is also a lie, knowledge is the imagination of human beings built on itself over time. Knowledge in itself can be good or it can be bad. It can limit us incredibly and make us incredibly sterile if we only trust our own understanding, but it can also cause unwanted destruction, manipulation, and slavery if we listen to the wrong people.



But what does this all mean? You may ask, “is reality a lie than? Were we born into the slavery of reality? Are we all brainwashed zombies of some great entity?” Or are is it the opposite? Are we condemned eternally to a garden of paradise? Is the walls of our cage the only thing that protects us from the acrid, poisonous atmosphere outside? If we destroy everything for freedom will it only drown us? What is freedom other than a very large cage? If you find a door in the cage wouldn't it just lead to a bigger one? What is freedom? We can only dream, because once you leave the safety of the home to wander the trails of the universe you are still inside the confines of your body. Nothingness is freedom, a place without walls could be true freedom. But we like the freedom that is the cage, because in the cage we can do anything to no detriment. We trust that the walls will never come crashing down.



So in regards to the confines of our bodies, some would venture to say that you must have a body to experience anything. Some would say that you do not. What I say is how do we know that we are not just simply entering a new one after we die? Becoming something else. Assuming that you live after you die. Assuming that you are conscious of it. But essentially our bodies do not die, the atoms in our cells still radiate with energy. The detritus that is our decaying flesh is consumed by other forms of life, we essentially soak into the soil. Of course we would prefer to box it away from the world in a coffin, but one day the coffin too will wither away. If there is anything I would want to tell my children it is that you cannot build a wall to protect you from death without isolating yourself from the universe. If we want to live forever than we must isolate ourselves to the point of where we are essentially not a living creature anymore. If we wanted to preserve our legacy that is life forever within a book, it would make no difference until somebody came along latter to read it. Permanence is indefinite throughout time, as soon as matter comes into being it has permanence. We can theoretically say, “It existed.” What disturbs us the most about permanence is that we cannot feel complete until somebody appreciates us in our absence. Permanence and legacy only lives off of appreciation for it. The book of time can only serve a purpose as entertainment for the writer and the lucky person that can read it. We could only hope that reader has the patience to read it and the writer the inspiration to write it. I feel like the story of life and order would be the most repetitive parts and the grand chaos of everything else the most interesting.



If there ever was a creator out there I would have to say bravo, you have kept me interested.

A warning

This is just a warning, for the few that ever stumble upon this message. This is the writings of a crazy man, probably bi-polar. schizophrenic? I certainly hope not. although sometimes I feel like most of the random jargon I pump out in my daily routine just feels like a giant word salad.

I am at the Ericson's stage of my life where I am supposed to find my identity. what if I am afraid of what I predict to come? What am I going to call myself? Dom the starving artist? Dom the drug fiend? Or is there more to the picture? Dom the almost botanist, but full on drop out. Dom the almost criminal, but only a minor offender. I started out a menace so what do I become? A full blown terrorist? I wish it was that easy, I wish that the world played to our strengths but it doesn't.

wait. . . . who am I talking to here? Myself, or my future children?

Maybe you were right Joey, I am the rotten seed. I hope you continue to get everything handed to you your whole life. Everyone deserves that at least for a while. Just know that it drains me like a twisted rag, robbed of its essence so that it can be shoved face first into a wine stain.

I still feel like a child, I probably will until I move out. Whatever that means.

But I will satisfy my promise to myself, I will pursue my goals with everything I have got. If I fail then I will just admit defeat, withdraw my cards from the deck and say, "I tried my best." Whether or not that is good enough is up to chance. Chance is as bittersweet as it gets, chance can tell you that if you succeeded it was only luck. Predestination could be worse I suppose. But I firmly believe that luck is when preparation meets opportunity.

So I could be known for three things; Dom who had his chance but didn't take it, Dom who had a chance and thrived from it, or Dom who never got his chance and tried until utter failure. Ah, the sweet song of a failed musician. What other choice does he have but to play onward?

I have become the jester in the kings court once again. I have come around full circle, better fly straight when the clouds clear.

Deceptors

I have nothing to prove to you. You are a weak and powerless leech that I have to cut off my skin. So tired of being here, my leave has been long over due. I can't wait to watch you fail from your overprivileged little life. I am not going to actively tell you how I feel, I am not going to sabotage your life. I am just going to leave, never talk to you again. And watch you fall. It is a shame the day that you discover the ones you love actually despise you. I'm not sympathetic, I was forced to be with you, I didn't choose to be born next to you. Fuck you. No more handouts.

haha

Dom you belligerent drunk you.

Welcome to the FrEaK ShOw

Ladies and gentlemen:

Come one, come all for a truly bizarre spectacle to behold before your sick and feeble eyes, I show you a creature beyond your wildest imaginations. His thoughts would chill you, his spine is empty of any mammalian fluid; his heart, black as ice. Behold the illustrious, yet surprisingly meek spirited, Dom Brazzale!

I will tell you a tale that can shock you, this beast has the capability to repel any female spirit into utter disgust. No matter how much he seems like the dark, sensitive type, he will out and shock you with pure unbridled lack of sentiment. One moment an egotistical, paranoid, jittery insomniac; the other, a smooth talking, cool tongued houndog with a knack for social etiquette. A rebel without a cause, sometimes he will think inside the box because the space outside of it has already been taken.

Clap your meaty palms together for the next fiasco he is about to perform as the almost famous artist clamouring for the attention of the drunken flattery of incoherent party goers. "you will be famous!" They scream. Fame is no fortune when shared with the drunken buffoons and their empty pockets. Ah, woe is me when I realise that at it's essence money is the fame, money is the power. If only my mind could have the capabilities of my greedy, sweaty paws.

Watch closely my captive audience as his gauntly tall presence in the room; disappears. You women don't deserve me, you deserve a more stable, changeable man.

*poof* I am gone!

Heroine Happiness

Happiness is the ultimate drug. As a matter of fact we take drugs just to get to it's precipice. Happiness is the drug that keeps us alive, makes us want to stay alive. So why do we have it? Why do we need to survive? Simple answer; We don't need to have a reason to survive. It exists because we are the product of survivors. Reproduction; the ultimate discovery of life. To live on. Not just to live forever but to start over with a blank slate, even better. There is nothing like discovering the grass has always been green on your side of the fence over and over again.

Evolution is not the reason we are alive but rather the product of being alive. But there is one flaw, and when a species can become self aware it is a fatal one. The flaw is extinction. The flaw of extinction for one species is ultimately the gain of another however. New species rise up, as a human being I realise I am starting to forget this vital life force that is nirvana. I must never forget that the reason I am here is not just for myself, but for another. In societies case many others. But ultimately it comes down to the benefit of the child, we all had our turn in the sun, soon it will be time to share that with another. I have often lost sleep from the idea that life is short, not my life, but life itself. All of the birds, frogs, and insects I see outside will come to an end. The whole precious little marble that is earth will shatter and erode into an intrinsic green and blue sand in the blink of a geologic eye. Even afterwards the sand will be washed away and scattered across the vast ocean of space.

I have always thought (or maybe assumed) that being the technologically advanced beings that we are, it is our duty to prolong this inevitability if not try and stop it. That it was our duty to figure out a way for life to go on. I have always been afraid that our existence could be inhibiting for something else, that everything comes at a cost. And while we are running around on our giant round playground, endless entities are suffering. But there is no way to really know, and at least I should not worry because there is not much I could do about that. Let alone if it is in fact not the opposite and our existence betters the universe. Who knows. But the only way for me to find optimism in this subject is to assume that if life were capable of healing itself, it would. It will evolve some sort of gatekeepers, some sort of great animal will be born that can figure this problem out. Figure out a way for divine, non-stop bliss for as long as we see fit. But for now I am born a man, and maybe we were dealt the hand of death.

Assuming the bizarre anomaly that is life only happens once in the universe, we still cannot go without enjoyment. Enjoy yourself no matter what, if it kills you or not. Because in the end that is all that mattered. If enjoyment is something that has to be maintained, held up, like the duty of atlas. It is not joy. That is another realization I had, if there is a god that has to create the universe, then he also has to maintain it. If there are gods then atlas would be the most noble. The saddest fiction of all time is that the one being that deserves happiness the most is also the one with the greatest responsibility to uphold everyone Else's. Is that why people praise this idol as if they didn't the sky would fall down? A noble hero does not want to see the people he saves suffering to please him. He knew what choice he had to make to save us all. Humanity needs a hero, because nobody wants to be the truly noble hero. A hero that achieves nothing but eternal suffering. Christ suffered for a couple days, Atlas suffers for eternity. Who should I praise? Oh wait, I'm missing the point. . . .

Of course if it makes you sleep at night, praise whomever your heart desires. Of course I am not done yet because I have one More thing I would like to say;

What makes life so special? Without the rocks, the elements, the earth, the sky, everything else that is "non-living" we could not exist. What makes us living? That we have this energy to move around? But so do helium molecules and just about all matter (for that matter.) Because we have choice? But there are so many things we do not have a choice in. Just because a fish in a tank swims to the right or the left doesn't mean it has unlimited freedom. An infinite amount of moves perhaps, like a character in a video game floating in space in the center of the screen the only thing that changes in our lives is the scenery. But what's the difference? That is the real question, and it is the question that birthed life, difference, conflict. We compete, rocks do not. Because we compete we change, but rocks change as well. But rocks don't seem to follow the formula of competition. We change for the winning perfection. Rocks simply follow the path of least Resistance. Life resists to persist, like we are all born with a chip on our shoulder. A score to settle with death.

We live on.

callings

I feel like every person can be talented at numerous things if they try their best. It is what you are compulsively obsessed about that you become greatest at. A well rounded person is not worth remembering, we need labels for the people who stand out.

Useless

I honestly feel like people have to hurt each other to feel complete. Why even bring up the subject of morals if none of us can even come close to possibly having them? I don't fight unless I am provoked, and I seem to be provoked by all of these ignorant, worthless rats all the fucking time. I gave up on humanity a long time ago. Now I can't even talk to some people without feeling the biting sting of their harbored hatred. A simple Fuck you just doesn't suffice. I need to leave this place.

Drunken disparity? Paint a pretty picture.

I think the funniest fact of life we have ever been taught is that most of your feelings will go unnoticed. Another funny fact of life is that generally you can assume that the more attention you get, the more you are going to want. If there was truly a caring person in the world that could heed every silent cry for help, they wouldn't have a life. They would be completely overwhelmed, especially by the drunks. And then even more by the trippers.

Nothing can express the utter fear and disparity of a drug addled sadness. One can cry like they have been emotionally shot by a bullet, draining their being of all that is left. I feel a good hefty empty pain, like hunger, only worse. It fills my head, making my life feel the same. A hollow ornament on the tree of life. It makes me laugh how much the world truly doesn't give a fuck. It is the path of least resistance. If people had to care for everyone there would be no room for self therapy. I laugh at how, no matter what, it is impossible to really throw yourself down for someone without seeming like a fool. A god would be so horribly comforting right now, but I have found that trying to hug him is like trying to hug a pillow, only even more hollow. It is like hugging yourself, if that were possible.

I am a bonafide, genuine freak. I am not a man, not in the least. My desires border on insanity. I am one of those insecure, pansy men. All I want is to hold someone. I mean really hold someone, squeeze them and cry. That to me would be more fulfilling than sex. this of course is not attractive, not in the least. Women don't want another woman, I'm sure they have plenty. Just like I wouldn't want to have another man, to tell me that crying is a shame. Crying is like ejaculation of the eyeballs, and it is less frequent than the other kind. hahaha, you men know this to be 100% fact. It is the ultimate release; the ultimate ode to an ancient, sad, forgotten melody. When I cry, I cry for it all.

I cry for the ultimate disparity for life, the ever approaching death and uncertainty. I cry for every unknown, bypassed suffering of history. I cry for the criers that cried out to nobody. HELP ME! I WANT TO BE WORTH SOMETHING, I WANT TO BE HELD AND TO HOLD ALL THAT IS COMPASSION! I FEEL ALONE! Cries can turn into screams if left unchecked. Screams that thrash and burn in a fiery rage to lick the walls of our prisons and beat our heads upon the bars.

"despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage." The Smashing Pumpkins

There is no true justice in the universe just like there is no truth. We cannot prescribe some sort of ultimate theory as to why were are here in these bodies. It will be different answers for every generation, but the same question. As we have seen life is a bit of a thing that grows, like a tree in a unfathomably large forest. duplicating, building upon itself, making connections. It all flows into this climax, that is, if the story were to be formatted correctly. The book of life is a book I never want to finish, it is too interesting to put down. Only in reality I have someone with a gun to my head telling me I have to. I hope my reading level is below average.

Art is the perfect expression of emotions, and the ultimate person to kill. Art is infinite in endurance, I can pour all of my rage, sadness, fear, and cynicism into it. Attack and brutalise everything about it. Expression within the confines of paper, my greatest emotional attachments blow up like an atomic bomb within the confines of reality. It is a funny fact of life that the more you smother and encase your emotions, the more you feel they have been expressed. I am the most supreme piston in an automobile, firing off all I am worth in the right direction, to guide this horrible celestial fucking motorcycle forward! Now we are getting somewhere, much better than going nowhere wouldn't you say? Potential action means nothing compared to action correct? People can make threats all they want, but the one who strikes first has the last say. The winners make the rules, the winners survive. How can we deny this obvious fact of life? Considering everything will die eventually, what does it matter that your offspring survives? ultimately the losers get the last laugh because they never had to try as hard, the losers actually got to enjoy their lives. Joy is rare, cheap, and above all ephemeral.

Enjoy it like the drug that kills you. I wish I could, but I am on this egotistical quest for glory. Maybe this outlet isn't as attractive as pretty colors, I should move on.

Omnivores with carnivor habits

I think since the day I was born I wondered why I was born a human. I remember crawling around, growling at miscellaneous things. I remember staring at bugs for hours. Once I pretended I was a cold blooded Alligator and would sit in my fridge and lay out in the sun to control my body temperature. My mom would have flipped shit. I read only a small portion of the animorphs series. Somehow when I was little I had a sense that their cheap anthropomorphism was not nearly what it was to be an animal. Cheap thrills never caught my eye then, and they still don't now. But what does that make me? Someone with good taste? What does good taste mean when there is little to eat. The Animals take what they can, Animals are too dignified to be dignified. I am a bored human being.

It seems that the greatest hunger to be satisfied for any human being is to be entertained. Be it with some meaningless task, or some elaborate show to indulge in the drunken revelry of laughter. The human race is a bunch of laughers, criers, Haters, lovers, etc. . . . . We are divine, and we deserve divine, decadent foods for our soft well nourished palates. This is what makes us so great, that we can enjoy it, correct? No other animal can do this. No other Animal can pollute. No other Animal can commit genocide. No Animal can create it's own justice and morals like we can. No other Animal can worship the gods. But if they could have the capability to see them, would they? Wouldn't they follow them with a greater desire than we, the easily bored, bipedal, free thinking, ego maniacs?

If our brains were capable of understanding the universe, wouldn't we already know by now? Could it be that we will soon only base our thinking off of what we have learned thousands of years ago? With all the corruption of knowledge, history, forgetfulness I really only see us getting so far. I really only see myself getting so far.

People seem so alien to me sometimes, like raving carnivores. A smile can seem so horribly wrong in so many situations. Like the glint of moonlight off of a rabid wolf, our teeth glisten all the same. Our eyes dilate and our mouths salivate. Fortunately being the well groomed creature I am, I do not base anything off of this irrational fear. I say irrational because the fastest instincts are in fact, irrational. The most necessary ones are, hopefully if I come under attack my deep rooted ancestral rage can take over. I believe I am going to at least try to live off of the land while it is still possible.

My falling out song

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2rlQdfZXUg

There's a gap in between
There's a gap where we meet
Where I end and you begin
I'm sorry for us
The dinosaurs roam the earth
The sky turns green
Where I end and you begin

I am up in the clouds
I am up in the clouds
And I can't
and I can't come down
I can watch and can't take part

Where I end and where you start
Where you,
you left me alone
You left me alone

X will mark the place
Like the parting of the waves
Like a house falling in the sea
In the sea

I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive

perfect song for a perfect little disaster in our lives.

torn asunder

the only drawing I really cared about, was destroyed today beyond recognition. I feel like I have a piece of myself torn away that I will never be able to understand or feel again. This is too fucked for words. I am trapped in chaos now, obliterated within my own existence. It makes me want to cry but I don't think I know how anymore. Now I am just a paranoid, egocentric fuck lost in a drawing that doesn't exist anymore. lost in myself. I'm just so lost for words right now, it's not worth it. I can't say another thing, gone gone gone gone gone gone. I can't make it. goodbye.

When I am weak

Sometimes it is just too much, the feelings welling up inside me. Not forming pressure to explode but rather deep incisions into my core. I look at the shadows cast by the people before me, so big to fill. But my true desire is not to fill them but to enrich them. I suppose it is only natural to look at another great person before you and feel this overwhelming desire to give them purpose. It is not death I am scared of but an empty life.

I feel a burning light inside me, seeping through the cracks like a molten storm. A bittersweet cacophony of sound saying one thing, "I will do things for the better." I built this shell to protect this gentle flame from the raging sea of disparity to give up. My greatest nightmare is that great people will go unnoticed, the voices of humanity will fall upon empty ears. If there could be just one stone left on an empty beach that could say "We were here." it would be a wealth beyond imagination to me. If I could just write into the sand and say "I exist." so that in one moment the bubbling froth of the ocean could acknowledge my presence with a faded wash back, it would complete me. We are possibly a part of the greatest nexus in the universe and we might not even know it.

Is this simply just my desire of being a man? That Something about life is vulnerable, that it needs to be protected and cherished. To be saved if I can so help it. Than please tell me now, it kills me to ever think that something so beautiful as life will be demolished in a geological second. But it is so ridiculously beyond my control, I feel like atlas some days. At least atlas knows he is doing something right.

Life it seems to me is like a giant tree, growing as fast as it can with all of it's might to one day burst forth with the flowers necessary to give life to the next generation. Is it on an island? will the seeds ever make it to newer more distant shores. I suppose everything goes onward, the dirt I will be buried in does not care if I am in it. It ultimately becomes a harsh reality, that the only things that care about you are the things that are similar to you. Perhaps I am just hungry for glory, perhaps I am just being a man again.

Flawed oh so beautifully flawed, a noble lion trapped in it's own courage. Like bars of fate I want to rip at them until my claws are dull. To be born a man is to be born a lover of life, a love so strong it slowly corrodes your insides until all that is left is but a frail exoskeleton of hope. A strong ideal sense of self worth coupled with a brute understanding of cost. Nothing is ever free until you allow it to be. How much did your birth into this world really cost you? was there something so great that we had before? To breath is to work and to work is to breath. When is the moment going to be that my full potential can be unleashed? I am tired of enjoying the simple pleasures they are simple for a reason, no matter what you can come back to them. There is too much energy combusting in my being to sleep it off. Fading like a dying star I feel my strength ebbing away. I think I have severely injured myself.

All this lack of sleep is causing me to hallucinate, This passion overwhelming. This body has seemed to take it well before, I can only hope it continues to. As long as I am breathing I will fight to have a purpose, as long as I can move my hands I will paint for the lost voices of time. Each sentence, every word is a fight for life. Pushing and shoving forward until that voice inside me can tell me that I have done well. That is why I must not sleep tonight, that is why I must never break until the job is done. I have work in 6 hours and counting, in six hours I must sit and think about wanting to do something and be trapped behind a counter that says I must do nothing.

Money is just not quite as satisfying as a good pat on the back. Fuck this moment in time, I hope it passes quickly. I hope those people are enjoying their food because it is crushing my spirit. I must go on, I never want to be able to say ,"if could have done _____." fuck money. Observe; this is when I am weak.

Homo sapiens

I have always found it quite interesting that the greatest feeling we can ascribe to life is love. I find it quite interesting that most of us feel like the only way we can satisfy that feeling is with reciprocity of another person. I find it even more incredibly interesting that not only do we believe that this feeling must come from a certain percentage of the population, half to be exact. And as if that was not enough we believe that the only way for this cup to be full is if it is filled by one person and one person only.

Humans love to believe in ridiculous odds, let's face it, statistics isn't the greatest class of all time. It is our love for ridiculous odds that causes most of them to come true. At least . . . . We would like to think so. Optimism is like a Lion, braving the onslaught of reality or even reason to win it's way for the simple sake of itself, happiness feels so good. Very, very few of us feel this benign sensation more than the overwhelmingly mundane feeling of routine. At my happiest moment I could be hit by a bus and not have a painful bone in my body.

It is this benign belief in love against all odds that ultimately grants our wishful thinking. Like a dream all the intrinsic details of reality are cast out from our gaze. Every dream feels so real because we want it to. We meet the one because we wanted to.

In theory if there is only one true soul mate out there for you than that means that there are literally millions out there that are not for you at all. all the horrible relationships that we endure and all the great ones that we lose will pale in comparison to that one stable person. In comparison to who we have been with before, very many people could seem like they are perfect. Wishful thinking can cause mental gymnastics.

Which leads me to my own belief, that every animal wants to have children. No matter what living thing you find alive today, they all want to reproduce. because to put it bluntly, the ones that wanted to reproduce were the ones that survived. And to the next level the ones that desired the greatest partners, got the greatest spawn. . . . . etc. . . etc. . . in a long timeline of an unabashed sexual frenzy. ( oh I know I just sound like the perfect romantic don't I?) Wishful thinking can kill even the best of us, but wishful thinking keeps us alive. At least the survivors anyways.

So in essence, our soul mates are the best of who we find. If we never found our soul mates in our endless search than we wouldn't have soul mates then would we? Yep marriage sucks a fat one we are very aware of that, we have lived under examples of ones. But I can think of something much worse; dying alone. sure single life is great until you are over the hill, soon to face the dark shadow of the valley behind it. Then being alone doesn't seem all that great. Of course there is some hope for all the loners out there (me being one of them.) but it is rather bittersweet. Everybody must die alone, but not everyone has to face it alone. We cannot take our spouses with us and one of us has to endure the lonely life on earth afterwards. That could be the trade off perhaps?

This is where the struggle for all old people comes into play; children. Ah children, considered so pure because they are dumb. Retards are forever pure. I don't know how but I seem to have been lead under the belief my whole life that becoming an adult is when I lose my innocence. That somehow, beautiful things such as sex are horribly, horribly tainted. Well of course adult life is going to suck when you keep being told it will. Living without children is a very noble undertaking and I am in awe of those that can pull that off. Because it is the deepest desire within all of us, because we come from generations

of fuckers. . . . . .

Nature vs. Nurture? Pshhhh. . . . nature wins by a long shot. If there was no "nature" we were born with then would somebody please explain to me what the fuck is a cerebellum??? I believe in that debate we are born with the same body plan as we have always had for 10's to thousands of years (has been proven.) but we are also born as malleable wads of clay, easy to be manipulated for greater things such a rocket science or massive serial killing; Sarcasm if you cannot tell. It is our nature to fuck, took me such a long time to figure that out. Thanks a lot Mom and Dad, my sheltered life has really brought me happiness. Maybe for a young lady it might be better to not tell them this concept but for all the hapless teenage boys out there they need to know why they are going crazy.

The nature to fuck can surpass many things in the animal kingdom, the nature to eat, the nature to sleep, the nature to think (haha, I hope people have read about this one.), even survival, even the nature to breath (if you disagree with this one you haven't had great sex.) Yes, yes, we get it. it is quite debilitating.

Now I am starting to sound real horrible, a pessimistic horny asshole it seems. Although I think it would be fun to leave it at that (especially since that seems to be horribly attractive to some people.) I will now show you Dom the Dreamer. Dom the truly hopeless romantic. I love certain people in my life to death. I would literally stop bullets for them, or at least as much as my ribcage can deflect. But almost 95% of these people I cannot truly get physically close with. That is a whole different level. Within the confines of my mind there is limitless possibilities. I can imagine heavens, hells, earths, galaxies, universes all contained within thousands of pebbles rolling in a sea of chaos. I can imagine all of the traits about me, all of the greatest things my best guy friends or relatives have said. I can imagine all my greatest fears, joys, sorrows as this boundless, fathomless ocean. All of these things about myself seeming so vast, so complex that even I still do not understand them. But what I can't imagine is someone so different, so alien to me it seems like the rain in their minds is purple and flows upward into a beautiful mosaic of lightning and tornadoes. A person that somehow confounds and defies all that I thought I knew about life and turns it onto its head. A completely fresh perspective. Something so relieving in its essence that to simply look into their eyes is to look through the depths of the ocean from the eyes of a bird and at the same time the eyes of a whale. This to me is the idea of the completion of myself, after of course finding out what exactly myself is yet. but that is for another time.

the path of least resistance

It seems too convenient that god is a father.

Enlightenment

I would like to think that I have reached this point today, just from reading the definition on wikipedia. God it is such an awesome feeling, it is almost too great to handle. I am overflowing from my cup, and it is fairly hard to type.

Basically I just looked at the definition which was this;

Each person, each physical object, from the perspective of eternity is like a brief, disturbed drop of water from an unbounded ocean.

Now I have heard this metaphor many times before and thought this thought. (obviously in a pessimistic way.) But not quite in this way before. I always thought of the universe, everything, as contained within one concept. That it has a beginning and an end (which it physically does.) However this is putting the concept of eternity in a box. Sure the universe is all we can truly ever know to exist and all we can prove to exist so far. But I think the problem is that we tend to see the concept of eternity as dependant upon the existence of a physical realm. We even tend to contribute the eternal realm as something physical as well, a god. Something with capability to create. But I am not arguing the concept of a god being existent itself, I simply cannot tell you if that is true. I am saying that the thought that a god has to exist along with a devil, a hell, a heaven is putting a box around the idea. Making it physical.

Any person can ask, "well who made god? where did he come from?" easy, almost childish question. But we need to realise that children are closer to the moment of nothingness than we are, but they are bred to quickly forget this concept. Children are actually quite onto something. This is what is making god have a box. Eternity, by definition is a concept that outlives god. It is like a master of a house, Just because he dictates what goes in and goes out doesn't mean that he dictates the presence of it. The house is not demanded by the presence of a master, it is a passive relationship. This is the problem with the Christian god, most christian people tend to believe that heaven and hell exist in conjunction with the concept that god created everything. If god created everything did he create himself?

If heaven is the house of god you have to believe one of two things, he either made a box around himself to exist or that it is simply eternity. A concept that outlives god. But regardless I feel like god is not the bigger question here.

In all aspects of physicality, or concepts of it, eternity is something that can exist independent of it. supposing the universe was gone one day, it is not like it never existed in the first place. It did, that is the beautiful miracle that we lucky few got to witness. We are a product of the universe, therefore we have a connection to it. We are the universe. The concept that we compose our bodies and our bodies compose the universe is so simple but we forget it very easily. We tend to think that there is this separation of mind and body, and body from eternity. Our bodies are very much a part of eternity, perhaps a small part. But still a part. Just because something is small does not mean it is insignificant.

If something small such as the universe, is the only small point of uniqueness in a sea of nothing it is actually quite large isn't it?

Size is relative to the space it is in. Size is very relative to the other objects it is around as well. a house is big to an ant, almost as big as a redwood is to us. So then the universe could theoretically be much bigger to an ant than it would be to us? A universe to a theoretical god could be very small and heaven would therefore be larger to us than to god. and Eternity would be even more so.

But the question is this; is the capability to imagine this larger than the concept itself? just because something is contained within a box doesn't mean that it cannot imagine greater things outside of it. Suppose I drew a box on a piece of paper and then drew an unconnected line inside of it. Suppose this box was a metaphor for the universe and then the broken line was a metaphor for the universe as it is broken open to the space around it. Then the contents of the box symbolize a dimension that goes beyond the lines of the box itself. Are we in fact larger than life? At least in our own minds we are. . . . .
egotism at its finest proves nothing to anyone besides the beholder. because what does a fish care about how much imagination you have? But what do you care about what a fish thinks about you?

Size therefore doesn't matter, The ability to govern proves nothing when you are in fact already governed by the laws of nature. The ability to govern nature proves nothing when you are in fact governed by your own laws. The desire to govern is a very natural desire. God wants to rule it all, but one day we will all realize that chaos has a reign as well. We are all trying to battle chaos. Even god. His battle is free will. Without free will the world cannot genuinely exist (theoretically) in his mind. Solution for this; a choice, heaven vs. hell. Ying vs. yang. Ultimately when I look at a ying yang from now on I am going to think of it as order vs. chaos. But to draw it would be to not draw a circle around the other half, because that is containing it. The balance is an invisible line on paper but in reality not a line at all. A line is a very specific thing to attach to meaning, everything is not quite so black and white. Specific things can be blown up into general things and visa versa. True realization is realising they are connected. Balance by conflict.

So to follow my divine realization correctly everything I have just said is in fact quite negligible because it is fitting the concept of eternity neatly into a singular definition. For every drop of water in space there will be another, and for every positive there is a negative. Pessimism vs. optimism. Don't we wish we could only have one? but it would negate your existence. A person who can only be happy is not a person at all. A magnet that has only a positive charge is not in fact a magnet at all. In this case my pessimism was that the universe will end,

My optimism; that it does not matter in comparison to the here and now.

My realization: that nothing can truly disappear. Eternity out measures its own label, and its own master.

Unmotivated man

Too many blisters to type.

Too late to finish my homework.

Too tired to paint.

Too sad to sleep.



It seems like the most underrated type of person in the present day is a caring, nurturing, individual. A nice person is too "weak", not individual enough, too optimistic and not real. You women truly are noble creatures, sometimes I just want to talk to a girl just to get some fresh perspective. Sometimes all I want is to be friends with a girl, true friends, just so I know I can have someone to talk to about certain things and share compassion with. Guys care about their friends just as much, maybe more. But we also want to let the person overcome their struggles and be their own man.



The problem with this is that if the opportunity for a relationship is there I will take it like any other animal. Because maybe, just maybe, we men have also been longing for that significant other our whole lives. sure I can accomplish a lot, receive glory and praise. But who could I share that with? Who else would raise a kid with you? Live their whole lives with you? Quite a feat, quite an accomplishment, but most of all quite a blessing. And judging by what kind of person I am today, I feel the odds of finding that person are slim if not negligible. Because I like to do spontaneous things, leave and go places, be crazy, push the limits. It will be damn hard to find another person willing to do the same and follow me into the abyss. The ultimate sad song, but that is for another day because my fingers are in some major pain cataloguing this song that will fall upon no ears.

A precious piece of dust

I was watching a special by Steven Hawking about time travel and the universe. I was even super motivated to make an elaborate drawing afterwards. The depth of space and ambiguity of existence itself is so intensely fascinating to me.

But there is a different part of myself that is very dormant on the subject, trapped under shrouds of memory and anchored by a deep rooted fear. I have this moment once in a while, where I look up at the stars and run. I run and run and run. I run through every bit of my life, every thought about life and humanity. I feel like I knew more as a child than I will ever know now. Like I was born with the answers and slowly forgot them. Comfort was never a mystery to me.

After watching the mind bending special I was gifted with the more diminished taste of the movie dazed and confused. Every person in that movie seemed so happy. So normal. There was a time when I was normal. I feel more and more insane everyday. I worry about if there is other life in the universe, I think about how small we are. It is like one minute I am a true human being and realise that as a human there is only so much I can do. I remember I am only a living animal. Then there are moments when it seems like I have to take the weight of the universe on my shoulders, like all the suffering of life itself would somehow go unheeded if I did not at least acknowledge it. I think about if there was a god or any other life for that matter, what they would think of us.

The reasonable part of my mind feels like anything alien can be very, VERY, alien to us. cold and indifferent. Maybe they would even hate us. But the very emotion driven part of me can't help but wish that all things that we are told are noble as kids are as pure as we thought them to be. Like in all the stories we hear where love conquers all and there can never be anything else emotionally driven like us, that can love like us. I can't help but think that who could possibly find fault in the love between a mother and child, or the tears cried of a person who has no fault. By sheer luck they are left with these miserable lives. A tear cried for life is the most fragile and unique object in the universe. We have an explanation for life itself, for the universe. for anger, love, sex drive, happiness. All of these seem so necessary for any living organism.

But what is the biological significance of a tear?

This doesn't aid our survival, if anything it is very debilitating. What is the need for music? Humans can cry from a single song. When the universe throws all it can at a man, this egotistical, dominating creature; what does he do? He cries. Being a man means being brave, being a dog means being brave. Being a lion means being brave.

Which animals do we admire? The rabid ones or the compassionate ones? which trait is more rare?

Is the awful abyss of chaos and violent cataclysms of a hostile universe worth the creation of a single intrinsic green and blue gem?

Do we have to be the center of the universe? why? A god would be so comforting right now, but the concept of him causes me to feel so insignificant. I don't want to have a father in the heavens that doesn't in fact wonder as well. So he created a universe with ease, a god that doesn't live up to his potential I suppose. If I saw God I would ask him if he wanted to cry with me. Cry for the lack of inherent meaning for having the gift of intelligence. God will never have a higher power to serve or look to. God will never have anyone but himself. If he is there I will weep for him.

Ah if I was normal I could get my paper done without feeling the need to type this out. I will leave with this question; would you rather have the power to become infinitely small or infinitely large? What is the difference?