Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Kold
The Cryptic passage that shows you bliss, the trip of trips you could not miss.
the body disappears in an electric sea
Every thought you thought you had or ego held
Is turned on its head the preconceptions bent and shaped
It is comforting and silently killing pains
The cold white crystals cut nasal membranes
The crackling of freezing air and rattling bones
The dark passage, the dying walk of the Shaman
I have caught glimpses of the great beyond
buried beneath the frozen wasteland
but it has etched death into my face
I have been given a glimpse through the eye of God
but a chilling gaze into the eye of the devil
The unforeseen orchestra behind cold moonlit sheets
Encoding the Rhythm of my last breathes
Stolen time is weaved into the present
where a person could walk a labyrinth curled up inside a bed
where it seems eons have passed flying in the sun
When asleep in the dark
What does it cost to overcome a material experience?
A material existence, and Everything else. . . . . . . .
the body disappears in an electric sea
Every thought you thought you had or ego held
Is turned on its head the preconceptions bent and shaped
It is comforting and silently killing pains
The cold white crystals cut nasal membranes
The crackling of freezing air and rattling bones
The dark passage, the dying walk of the Shaman
I have caught glimpses of the great beyond
buried beneath the frozen wasteland
but it has etched death into my face
I have been given a glimpse through the eye of God
but a chilling gaze into the eye of the devil
The unforeseen orchestra behind cold moonlit sheets
Encoding the Rhythm of my last breathes
Stolen time is weaved into the present
where a person could walk a labyrinth curled up inside a bed
where it seems eons have passed flying in the sun
When asleep in the dark
What does it cost to overcome a material experience?
A material existence, and Everything else. . . . . . . .
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
This paragraphs name is Oocanopterus
I love that we have names for every little thing in Science. When you think about it, all the tangible things we have are just different arrangements governed by their oscillations and interactions. But regardless of these things we have names for each size and identifying shape of each and every thing that arises from these interactions. A grain of sand is a grain of sand but many grains of sand is a beach, how many grains does it take to make a beach? The key here is "identifying" We give these collected objects and scenes around us an identity that we can sometimes agree on. Yet as human beings we seem to identify with everything but ourselves, because we are the "identifiers" The Identifier shouldn't identify himself. This is where the desire for a god comes in, we want to be identified by something larger that can explain to us who we are better than we feebly try to do ourselves. This also gives us a purpose in a way.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Epilogue to the beginning
When did it become such a phenomenon that me saying I want to get out of this place has become a foreign concept to the people around me? My first guesses are that it happened when all the dreamers such as I left, and all the realists stayed put. How silly to call them realists when they limit themselves with realism to the point of where they believe their physical body isn't capable of physical outings because it never has been, it takes a moronic drive to athletically push oneself, this is one of life's easiest lessons to learn. It cannot be done is all I hear. It all cannot be done, everything I want cannot be done. I'm tired of being everyone's pet insane artist, I want to make them realize that what I do has a lot of weight. I would rather have a giant impact or none at all and this is a very vital period of my life to decide which one to be. It seems I avoid the daylight to spill myself out in these ungodly hours because I am afraid to look at myself for who I am, a naked man too afraid to admit he is the entertainer of the mob. What is my purpose? To show people the trees when they are looking for the forest. Goodnight and goodluck readers not-abroad. Btw this piece was done on a computer for all the assholes that have to know. ^
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Blank
If I could give any advice to a child it would be, “don't let life dry your tears before they leave your eyes.”
If there was anyone that wanted to save me from becoming lost they have to do it now, if there was anyone that thought they could change a life I am a blank pallet, change me how you will but only if you do it now.
If the alphabet were in a different order I think there would be less A's in all our words. The path life is a very fixed one, we are fixated in a groove that we made from walking over the same ground over and over.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
My hardest trial
The drama of Humanity is a giant satire and I stand laughing off stage in the shadows, but sometimes when I get on stage I forget I am acting and the tears come out in light of the charade I must lead. I must go on with my life, we are the people that make the world worth living in. My aspirations started as the man who would change the world, latter the man who would change history, and now my aspirations are ever higher. I want to be the first man who has become truly content, I want to be able to approach the gates of heaven and ask them to let someone take my place because I have experienced all the fulfillment and joy I could ever need. Of course the great irony is that I must be able to make at least one other person feel the same way or else I cannot reach that point.
Even at the eve of death I never will be disappointed that I was born a human being!
Even at the eve of death I never will be disappointed that I was born a human being!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
methods not up for consideration.
I can't help but contemplate the question that: if a feeling in a real life situation is mimicked in an unreal environment such as a dream, is it equivalent to experiencing that identical feeling in reality? My inevitable conclusion I have reached is that real experiences give the illusion of permanence and that idea of permanence fuels this ambition to achieve real goals. It is not so much that we want to feel the equivalent feeling that we are the greatest philosopher in the world for example but it's that we want to wake up the next day and know it was true and will be true even after we die. This illusion could be achieved in a month, as I estimate it off the top of my head. One whole month of waking up to being the greatest thinker on the planet would give the illusion of such stable contentment, I believe I wouldn't be able to wake up one day and find it to be a lie.
Even if one could achieve this experience of greatness for that long by random process, the confidence they would have running out in the final days could propel them into the world of actuality. This is the paradox of being raised up until the point we are at believing we are average, it is very hard to break out of this trend. That is why the best of us that triumph under such adversity are held in such high esteem, they abscess from this mode of conditioning that makes them believe they are average, somehow. The reasons why this is vary between situations, and it could even be argued that the person in question is conditioned to believe they are phenomenal in spite of being average. Good parental support in its essence. They could also be just dilusional enough to not accept any other alternatives other than greatness. I have a growing fear that this is me. I look around at what the world has to offer and somehow my vanity rejects it saying I can create greater things in my head, and even faster. This is true until my desires pervert all that could be into a frame of mind built by physical means. I can create a universe and feel empty and sad, destructive and mad, but most of all desperate and lonely.
If the greatest feeling of being human is to be loved and to love then the worst is to be unloved and alone. But this is a big IF. But then again. . . . . . how many living things on this earth are completely alone? Even in death we have life crawling under our skin, and every time we see insects this feeling takes over us sending shivers down our spines. Creeping us out .
My greatest conflict: Introversion or Extroversion,
My best alternative: base my course of action on reactionary procedures to interior and exterior conflicts.
My method for creating alternatives: changing what the conflict represents, thus turning a blind eye.
Some things just have to be taken head on to have any ground in the plane of truth. The edges must be clearly defined or else the plane becomes entangled.
Even if one could achieve this experience of greatness for that long by random process, the confidence they would have running out in the final days could propel them into the world of actuality. This is the paradox of being raised up until the point we are at believing we are average, it is very hard to break out of this trend. That is why the best of us that triumph under such adversity are held in such high esteem, they abscess from this mode of conditioning that makes them believe they are average, somehow. The reasons why this is vary between situations, and it could even be argued that the person in question is conditioned to believe they are phenomenal in spite of being average. Good parental support in its essence. They could also be just dilusional enough to not accept any other alternatives other than greatness. I have a growing fear that this is me. I look around at what the world has to offer and somehow my vanity rejects it saying I can create greater things in my head, and even faster. This is true until my desires pervert all that could be into a frame of mind built by physical means. I can create a universe and feel empty and sad, destructive and mad, but most of all desperate and lonely.
If the greatest feeling of being human is to be loved and to love then the worst is to be unloved and alone. But this is a big IF. But then again. . . . . . how many living things on this earth are completely alone? Even in death we have life crawling under our skin, and every time we see insects this feeling takes over us sending shivers down our spines. Creeping us out .
My greatest conflict: Introversion or Extroversion,
My best alternative: base my course of action on reactionary procedures to interior and exterior conflicts.
My method for creating alternatives: changing what the conflict represents, thus turning a blind eye.
Some things just have to be taken head on to have any ground in the plane of truth. The edges must be clearly defined or else the plane becomes entangled.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
My ability to please
My beauty is based upon cheap skills, it takes a small amount of effort to learn how to perform the social back flips I do. Sometimes when someone looks at me I laugh, because I know that they haven't the slightest clue of who I am. What my friends and the people around me see is the performance of a lifetime. A performance within a performance within a performance. At the mall we can walk, my gang of misfits and I, and I can show them the performance I give to the crowd. This performance requires little skill and large swaths of confidence. It is very easy to yell at random people in public, I just have to shut off that switch that seems to be innately built into humans to behave considerable around each other. You could just say I am just being an asshole, but I think the assholes are the ones that give cheap stares to complete strangers and would walk past someone who is crying and act nonchalant as if they were the ants we step over on the pavement. Maybe if those ants were devouring a rotting human carcass they would seem to gain much more weight in our minds.
Next is the performance to the elite circle, this involves more cards played of ridiculous values.
The key to building the humor of the group: Blatant exaggeration that stems into almost pure megalomania, shameless self scarification, and to hold up the supports of bewilderment one must tighten the tension of the ropes built by societal fear. The key is to make them think that you shouldn't be doing what you are doing, that you are stealing the cookies from the jar and they are taking a bite while snickering under the table with you.
The sad irony; Jokes when we are children are preparation for adult behavior and thus non-serious play fighting like baby carnivores.
While Jokes when we are adults all have a bitter hint of truth in their taste, the greed behind getting away with turning that ridiculous joke into unabashed truth overwhelms us.
So when there is a small group I reign with humor without becoming the jester of their court, this is impossible with large groups and it will only lead to being bound in shackles to have rocks/fruit thrown at my face. It is only possible to make the group laugh while maintaining dignity by pointing out the groups flaws in such a way that only a portion of the group applies, or in other words using stereotypes. We laugh at stereotypes now because they are so forbidden. But finally at the level of group performance we get to my Achilles heel and lifetime woe: Nobody will ever see me for who I am.
A friend will see the Dom that performs the friendly engagement behavior mechanism, and some things we say to some friends we never end up saying to others be it for various benign or vile reasons. A lover will see another lovers behavior only when they are in love. If I were to ever love somebody they would have to see me as I truly am, naked and crying, the way I left the womb. I want my love to see my wrath, my sadness, my paranoia, my self love and my self pity. If she could see this and accept it than she would be the only true woman living in the world to my eyes, all others seem like cheap imitations thus far.
How can so many personalities fall into so few archetypes? especially when it comes to psychedelic circles, where the raw personalities come out. There is the Mans woman, the ladies man. The hopeless romantic, the naive romantic, the queen, the wench, the dark beauty and light angel. We are all bound into these circumstantial archetypes, we are shaped by our locations, our food, our homes, our furniture, our friends, our genes, our parents genes, their parents genes, the rotation of the earth, the burning of the sun, the pull of gravity, the flight of electricity, the sway of what's current and I will only tell you one thing: Following the Current is what's current as it always is and always was. . . . Falling downward.
I don't want to be the T.V I now refuse to watch, I don't want to be the bed I sleep in every night, I don't to be my routine built around everyone Else's routine built around the days in the week. The archetypes are our prisons and the bars are the folds of our brains built by favorable circumstances, adaptation is the way out of the door and fearless change is the key. In order for the soul to escape the current it must act as a harlequin, a chameleon, a cuttlefish. Every little piece of sensory information whether it be damaging or not is taken into the brain. The key is to be a cuttlefish with the mind akin to the external digestive gut of a fungus, exposed to elements but free from predation or poison. BE the poison NOT the drinker of it. When the soul lives in this state long enough it must pick the right time to abscess the unnecessary limbs, like the arms of the starfish, the tail of a lizard, and the tail of the frog. Once this is done the vultures will be looking for more so the albatross must come out and take off across the ocean the vultures cannot cross. This allows the soul to escape the current and if it must as it generally does it can cross into a new current by becoming the harlequin once again.
If you truly see me you will see I have been the camouflaged harlequin for sometime and a Lion lurks beneath my skin.
Next is the performance to the elite circle, this involves more cards played of ridiculous values.
The key to building the humor of the group: Blatant exaggeration that stems into almost pure megalomania, shameless self scarification, and to hold up the supports of bewilderment one must tighten the tension of the ropes built by societal fear. The key is to make them think that you shouldn't be doing what you are doing, that you are stealing the cookies from the jar and they are taking a bite while snickering under the table with you.
The sad irony; Jokes when we are children are preparation for adult behavior and thus non-serious play fighting like baby carnivores.
While Jokes when we are adults all have a bitter hint of truth in their taste, the greed behind getting away with turning that ridiculous joke into unabashed truth overwhelms us.
So when there is a small group I reign with humor without becoming the jester of their court, this is impossible with large groups and it will only lead to being bound in shackles to have rocks/fruit thrown at my face. It is only possible to make the group laugh while maintaining dignity by pointing out the groups flaws in such a way that only a portion of the group applies, or in other words using stereotypes. We laugh at stereotypes now because they are so forbidden. But finally at the level of group performance we get to my Achilles heel and lifetime woe: Nobody will ever see me for who I am.
A friend will see the Dom that performs the friendly engagement behavior mechanism, and some things we say to some friends we never end up saying to others be it for various benign or vile reasons. A lover will see another lovers behavior only when they are in love. If I were to ever love somebody they would have to see me as I truly am, naked and crying, the way I left the womb. I want my love to see my wrath, my sadness, my paranoia, my self love and my self pity. If she could see this and accept it than she would be the only true woman living in the world to my eyes, all others seem like cheap imitations thus far.
How can so many personalities fall into so few archetypes? especially when it comes to psychedelic circles, where the raw personalities come out. There is the Mans woman, the ladies man. The hopeless romantic, the naive romantic, the queen, the wench, the dark beauty and light angel. We are all bound into these circumstantial archetypes, we are shaped by our locations, our food, our homes, our furniture, our friends, our genes, our parents genes, their parents genes, the rotation of the earth, the burning of the sun, the pull of gravity, the flight of electricity, the sway of what's current and I will only tell you one thing: Following the Current is what's current as it always is and always was. . . . Falling downward.
I don't want to be the T.V I now refuse to watch, I don't want to be the bed I sleep in every night, I don't to be my routine built around everyone Else's routine built around the days in the week. The archetypes are our prisons and the bars are the folds of our brains built by favorable circumstances, adaptation is the way out of the door and fearless change is the key. In order for the soul to escape the current it must act as a harlequin, a chameleon, a cuttlefish. Every little piece of sensory information whether it be damaging or not is taken into the brain. The key is to be a cuttlefish with the mind akin to the external digestive gut of a fungus, exposed to elements but free from predation or poison. BE the poison NOT the drinker of it. When the soul lives in this state long enough it must pick the right time to abscess the unnecessary limbs, like the arms of the starfish, the tail of a lizard, and the tail of the frog. Once this is done the vultures will be looking for more so the albatross must come out and take off across the ocean the vultures cannot cross. This allows the soul to escape the current and if it must as it generally does it can cross into a new current by becoming the harlequin once again.
If you truly see me you will see I have been the camouflaged harlequin for sometime and a Lion lurks beneath my skin.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Syntactical Alchemy
Welcome back dear, it's been so long. The weeds have grown over us so black and cold, all the blossoms of last spring have unfurled gently in their coalesced blue ultramarine hue. After watching the black swan drown I connected with her dark rippling sheen. and I let it flow down, down,
far... . . . . . . . . .
down
into my introversion. Deep seated perversions glowing deep red in the coals, and the hot yellow ash licks my spine. Growing brighter, glowing, effervescent in the cowering, she cries, she lies, she steams in the sepia oil streams. Sweeeeet seeething, deeeep greeeeeening, preening my feathers timid from the blowing hot glass pooling drooling over the new dawn in her eyes, cyan from the lukewarm heavenly slow, ,static touching and sliding electricity, , she flies, she tries. . . . She lies when she cries she tires when she files down those indulgent purple ambitious dreams, Flickering down the meandering tropic streams.
This was an example of my indulgent mind, there are more pieces to the puzzle however. I have always wondered about the placebo effect of psychology. IF we are told the symbols of our dreams have a deep seated subconscious meaning, we find this to be true. IF we are told the right and left sides of our brains have different personalities, we believe it. My right and my left are married in a sacred dance. My father and my left brain is obsessed with symbols, math, and the divine. My mother and my right brain are flowing in the big picture, the giant cosm of time, and the occult. It is as if they are possessed by an inclusive mandala of exclusion AND inclusion. When I write and draw with my left hand my mother comes out, gaia. The lines are never straight, but the meaning never strays. It sways in the rhythm of the wind, a frequency I rarely get in sync with. This was an example of my hybrid mind, carrying out its indulgences rationally. Now my purely cold and sterile rational. This is pronounced "rash, ee, ooohne, al."
Welcome back dear, it's been so long and your intentions are my reasons if I have an intention at all. The weeds I have, grown reason as I will have it, will then cover us so black and cold if only.. . . .
all the blossoms if they have a reason I had last spring have an intention unfurled gently in their coalesced blue ultramarine hue I do not have anymore. AND So I do not morn, After watching the black swan drown, for I connected with her reasons. Her intentionally dark rippling sheen. and I will then let it have me flow down, down, for I do not have a reason.
I have fallen
far... . . . . . . . . .
than I was logically used to,
down into reasons, If I have them. and only then I will therefore intend to find something,
far
down
into my introversion and Wasn't it something? Deep seated perversions for something glowing deep red in the coals purpose I desire, and the hot yellow ash I have intended for licks my spine. SOME Thing is Growing brighter, glowing, effervescent in the cowering did I have an intention for her?
if she cries, she lies about something; if she steams then I desire.
in the sepia oil streams my purpose in thus used sweetly. Sweeeeet seeething intentions, deeeep greeeeeening perversions, preening my feathers to show my intentions. Leaving her timid from my desires for the blowing hot purpose.
IF I am becoming glass to satisfy my desire which is pooling down my chest and drooling over my purposes the first dawn in her eyes gives me new reasons. cyan makes me want to cry for it to have reason for from the lukewarm I have cried for logic for if it has logic it is heavenly but the process is slow,
She lies when she says she has reasons.
when she cries I lose all the logic I have.
when she tires I fuel those desires for purpose.
when she files down,
I reason down,
to the bone,
however.
those valid indulgent this as if purple flows reasonably into valid ambitious dreams honed by the valor of truth,
and
Flickering down the meandering tropic streams, I see where our purpose truly lies, I see where it hides.
We must be careful before we are forgotten.
far... . . . . . . . . .
down
into my introversion. Deep seated perversions glowing deep red in the coals, and the hot yellow ash licks my spine. Growing brighter, glowing, effervescent in the cowering, she cries, she lies, she steams in the sepia oil streams. Sweeeeet seeething, deeeep greeeeeening, preening my feathers timid from the blowing hot glass pooling drooling over the new dawn in her eyes, cyan from the lukewarm heavenly slow, ,static touching and sliding electricity, , she flies, she tries. . . . She lies when she cries she tires when she files down those indulgent purple ambitious dreams, Flickering down the meandering tropic streams.
This was an example of my indulgent mind, there are more pieces to the puzzle however. I have always wondered about the placebo effect of psychology. IF we are told the symbols of our dreams have a deep seated subconscious meaning, we find this to be true. IF we are told the right and left sides of our brains have different personalities, we believe it. My right and my left are married in a sacred dance. My father and my left brain is obsessed with symbols, math, and the divine. My mother and my right brain are flowing in the big picture, the giant cosm of time, and the occult. It is as if they are possessed by an inclusive mandala of exclusion AND inclusion. When I write and draw with my left hand my mother comes out, gaia. The lines are never straight, but the meaning never strays. It sways in the rhythm of the wind, a frequency I rarely get in sync with. This was an example of my hybrid mind, carrying out its indulgences rationally. Now my purely cold and sterile rational. This is pronounced "rash, ee, ooohne, al."
If I have an intention then I will have a reason. I have an intention. So I have a reason.
If I have a reason then I will have an intention. I do not have an intention. So I do not have reason.
If I have an intention for something then I will have a reason for it.
If I have a reason then I have used logic.
Therefore if I use Logic I have an intention for something.
If I have an intention for something then I desire a purpose for something.
I have an intention for something
Thus I desire a purpose for something.
If I desire a purpose for something then I have an intention for something.
If I have an intention for something then I am using logic.
Thus if I desire a purpose for something then I am using logic.
If I am using logic to satisfy a desire for something to have a purpose then that something will have a reason for me to desire it to have a purpose.
If that something has a reason then it has used logic.
If that something has used logic then it has an intention.
Therefore if I am using logic to satisfy a desire for something to have a purpose then that something has an intention.
However this statement is valid if and only if the reason for me to desire that something to have a purpose is identical to the reason I have used Logic.
Next is the hybrid of chaos, the hybrid of ideas that could never be thought without a formula of the truth beyond; the truth beyond my reasons. The higher plane of truth, alchemically produced.
all the blossoms if they have a reason I had last spring have an intention unfurled gently in their coalesced blue ultramarine hue I do not have anymore. AND So I do not morn, After watching the black swan drown, for I connected with her reasons. Her intentionally dark rippling sheen. and I will then let it have me flow down, down, for I do not have a reason.
I have fallen
far... . . . . . . . . .
than I was logically used to,
down into reasons, If I have them. and only then I will therefore intend to find something,
far
down
into my introversion and Wasn't it something? Deep seated perversions for something glowing deep red in the coals purpose I desire, and the hot yellow ash I have intended for licks my spine. SOME Thing is Growing brighter, glowing, effervescent in the cowering did I have an intention for her?
if she cries, she lies about something; if she steams then I desire.
in the sepia oil streams my purpose in thus used sweetly. Sweeeeet seeething intentions, deeeep greeeeeening perversions, preening my feathers to show my intentions. Leaving her timid from my desires for the blowing hot purpose.
IF I am becoming glass to satisfy my desire which is pooling down my chest and drooling over my purposes the first dawn in her eyes gives me new reasons. cyan makes me want to cry for it to have reason for from the lukewarm I have cried for logic for if it has logic it is heavenly but the process is slow,
She lies when she says she has reasons.
when she cries I lose all the logic I have.
when she tires I fuel those desires for purpose.
when she files down,
I reason down,
to the bone,
however.
those valid indulgent this as if purple flows reasonably into valid ambitious dreams honed by the valor of truth,
and
Flickering down the meandering tropic streams, I see where our purpose truly lies, I see where it hides.
We must be careful before we are forgotten.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Antipodes of thought
"Any trace of positive value judgment is a bad sign for a mind whose goal is to be objective."
Finals are this week so you better believe I am going to be very distracted on here.
There is a very subtle difference between entertaining a person and inspiring them, it comes down to the values of what is being communicated. On one hand we have the goal of entertaining the person, this means to entice them; to show them pleasures and thrills reserved for the story books. When we want to entertain a person we have to show them the extremes to the point of absurdity, this will make them laugh, because it is something that violates their expectations and if it is powerful enough to be so capable of relation the person will laugh like they are a part of the piece and a part of their entertainers mind. This is my mnemonic method, and you can take it as you will. Arguing with my method is like arguing with recipe instructions, you can cook the pasta however you want, just don't make me eat it.
Another part of entertaining rather than inspiring is the art of appealing to the want for security, appreciation, and luxury. If we show these people somebody similar to them experiencing the wants of their mind in an imaginary realm, it is almost too easy to get them washed into the whirlpool of disillusionment. This is entertainment as a whole, an illusion of participation. This is why when the craft is done poorly one can feel very cheated, people do not want to be taken for fools or at least, they do not want to know about it. However there is the desire to be good at a craft as well, because we are conditioned since we are children to believe that if we do a certain craft phenomenally well we will become praised and loved. When the entertainer is applying his deception of participation it must be done in such a way that the viewer feels they are not only witnessing a phenomenal feat of the entertainers skill but also that their mind is being enriched while it is being engrossed. This stupefaction mixed with adoration garnishes respect for the creator and the illusion that the one being entertained walked away with more than he/she paid for. This is the cause for so much anthropomorphism in every doctrine of science, fiction, and philosophy. When we are told analogies for particles we are told that they behave like we do with attractions and repulsions to certain particles/ and laws they cannot disobey. I would like to pose a theory that if this anthropomorphism holds true and the world is much more subjective than we think, certain combinations of laws and particles can allow unheard of behavior much like the integration of human ideas.
The truth however is that the universe is both objective and subjective and there is never a clear cut distinction between when, how, or why it behaves this way. On one hand we have the different intrinsic qualities of matter yet they all seem to have a unified elementary composition, at least until they are fired through particle accelerators and then even more elementary particles pop up. From an objective standpoint this is a travesty, there must be a unified theory that shows deep down everything is all the same and the different vibrations that are pumped out by the different force charges create different ingredients to be utilized like a metaphorical flavor factory. Wouldn't this be ideal, but at the same time completely not. For a better understanding of what I am going to get at we must first look at these two definitions:
Ideal:
Standard:
1. something considered by an authority or by general consent as a basis of comparison; an approved model.
2. an object that is regarded as the usual or most common size or form of its kind: We stock the deluxe models as well as the standards.
3. a rule or principle that is used as a basis for judgment: They tried to establish standards for a new philosophical approach.
Now this may seem like “attack of the itallics” but I want to show what I see in the word ideal, it is the giant irony of language. It is a word with an ideal definition and thus fits the definition of circular reasoning, which essentially is not capable of having a definition without faulty logic. Because circular reasoning (first premise) is a use of reason that depends upon drawing a conclusion that is equivalent to the first premise (second premise). ^My first premise above: Circular reasoning, is equivalent to a use of reason which depends on my second premise above^ which is the definition of circular reasoning and thus is the equivalent to circular reasoning. And in the end circular reasoning is the equivalent of circular reasoning. * Cue applause *
What is the existence of anti bodies without the existence of the virus? Life is resisting itself so it can grow and change, death is the result and freedom is another way of saying death. Eternal sustenance is an ambition that requires the payment of freedom and indulgence. Unfortunately natural selection has already made that decision for us, we can't stop from dying on our wild ride of life and we need a savior that is also a martyr. Jesus is the food we consume, combust, and destroy, the liquid water that streams our cellular processes and preserves our embryos. God is the love that brings the zygotes of sex cells together but he is also the Satan that burns Jesus, his only son, in the name of life. These figureheads are only analogies for who we are and we project them upon something so large we will never understand it because of this, it is subjectivity at its strongest. Intelligent design was born out of science and it was fathered by religion. These giant end all theories of everything do more than emotionally sate our tongues so as to feed our souls, they motivate us and drive us. Humanity has stumbled on intelligence and found no motivation behind it, Intelligence is objectivity itself and without a viewing subject containing a little subjectivity to apply to this knowledge it is a seed without water. Nothing new will happen to reason without that chaotic element. What point am I finally getting at? None. Now might you ask the difference between entertaining and inspiring I can only say one thing; entertaining is stealing that wealth of energy in the universe to put into the subject leaving them awestruck and stupefied, inspiring is simply showing the subject they have always had this potential. I like to be the surfer between these waves of human behavior, first resisting the wave to ride it's potential and then falling in to be swept up it's rolling axis.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Burrowed in the Furrows of My brow
Burrowed in the Furrows of My Brow are my secrets manifested in the throbbing pulse of Anamorphic chemicals in Lagomorphic creatures;
When I was a child I thought I was the messiah, Now I think I am the great destroyer. The most reassuring feeling I had was of being curled up in Gods palm, The most terrorizing feeling I had was when I found this to be a lie.
The masses treat God like Heroin; the great sleep.
I treat God like Ayahuasca; The fathomless deep.
When I was a child I thought I was the messiah, Now I think I am the great destroyer. The most reassuring feeling I had was of being curled up in Gods palm, The most terrorizing feeling I had was when I found this to be a lie.
The masses treat God like Heroin; the great sleep.
I treat God like Ayahuasca; The fathomless deep.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Happiness
Je n'aime pas ces choses ^
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Internet
I am writing from the least trusted source on the web, a blog page. I find it funny that we are willing to admit a blog is a terrible resource because it is the equivalent of admitting that all individuals are not credible resources. Individuals can type the information they want to convey to the Internet on a blog last time I checked, if I am mistaken then this reaffirms my fear that we have a total lack of will altogether. But I digress.
A huge problem I find with the current education system for credible sources is that it gives a catch all rule for finding information, it's only credible if it is scholarly.
( 6 hour intermission)
The prior paragraph was a while ago an I don't wish to continue on the subject, instead of saving it as a draft I will let you see it as is, this keeps it alive. One can feel the sobering dying down of my my minds frenzied mental erection.
So a Librarian woke me up with a puddle of drool allover my shoulder, hahaha, wouldn't be the first time. I was so embarrassed, she probably thinks I am homeless or something because I spend a lot of time there. But believe it or not it's not to sleep, it's to read. It's the one place where I can learn at my own discretion which I think is the better way, knowledge is just too interconnected to just emphasize on all those specifics. One can't look at the Nuclear Mysticism of Dali without first understanding some physics. Unfortunately I am not a good racing horse, you can't just put the blinds on me and expect me to stay in my starting gate. Currently I am on the path towards trying to fundamentally understand energy (really ambiguous word as I am coming to find out.), because that seems like the best and most impossible idea to comprehend. I don't want to open a power plant, I just want to understand it fundamentally and quiet down my soul.
A huge problem I find with the current education system for credible sources is that it gives a catch all rule for finding information, it's only credible if it is scholarly.
( 6 hour intermission)
The prior paragraph was a while ago an I don't wish to continue on the subject, instead of saving it as a draft I will let you see it as is, this keeps it alive. One can feel the sobering dying down of my my minds frenzied mental erection.
So a Librarian woke me up with a puddle of drool allover my shoulder, hahaha, wouldn't be the first time. I was so embarrassed, she probably thinks I am homeless or something because I spend a lot of time there. But believe it or not it's not to sleep, it's to read. It's the one place where I can learn at my own discretion which I think is the better way, knowledge is just too interconnected to just emphasize on all those specifics. One can't look at the Nuclear Mysticism of Dali without first understanding some physics. Unfortunately I am not a good racing horse, you can't just put the blinds on me and expect me to stay in my starting gate. Currently I am on the path towards trying to fundamentally understand energy (really ambiguous word as I am coming to find out.), because that seems like the best and most impossible idea to comprehend. I don't want to open a power plant, I just want to understand it fundamentally and quiet down my soul.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Sick from evil
I am more sick than you are, you have withdrawals during an Easter dinner while I have to lie to your family for you. I am so sick of your bullshit, they fucking prayed for you thinking that it wasn't your fault. You almost killed us on the highway today, never mind, I will never be as sick a person as you are.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Retrospect
Ah, Just finished those papers. I feel so much better now that I got a full night of sleep. Yet something is bugging me, it's funny because it seems like I can never enjoy anything but the truth of my enjoyment is the opposite. I have had joys and Ecstasies in my life that would make a guru blush.
It is my drive and my ambition that puts such a high price toward enjoyment. It's so strange, I love sadness sometimes and deep melancholy, It reminds me that I still have a heart. When I am sad it is like a sweet symphony, a harrowing minor shift into major and divine inspiration. (watch your feet for the music pun)
If joy and Ecstasy are the shimmering surface of a pond than sadness and melancholy is the somber dark green depths where the bottomfeeders of the imagination lurk. The key to optimism is knowing when to have pride and when not to. If money is high, friends are sociable, and everything is prospering than be merry. Prosper as well. Be like a blade of grass in the rainy season, humility can kill if we aren't careful of it. Too much humility is like the heavily abused dog that comes back to the master with its tail wagging. I know too many people that suffer from this, and it's tricky because you cannot cure a person with too much humility by telling them how they should be. You have to invoke inspiration in them, you have to make them realize they are great and their potential is great.
The key to always enjoying yourself however is to have the right amount of humility when necessary. When money is low, you have lost respect, and people around you seem to be happier then have humility. When I look at where I live, what I have accomplished, what image I put off, and think it seems unsatisfactory I laugh. I laugh at myself and realise I am just the little creature trying to make the entire world fall before myself. I laugh because it is failure that has given us the diversity we have today, yes I know, crazy talk. But if nature were afraid to fail it would go nowhere, eventually the organism that plays it safe for too long goes extinct. We have to change constantly and we have to adapt in order to survive but also to be satisfied.
We humans are too smart to not take full advantage and feel the greatest pleasure nature is capable of, it is right here in our bodies. This could be an argument for drugs, but it is actually one against it. We can feel happier without them as crazy as that sounds. What if I told you I knew the perfect formula to experience bliss at all times? Well I tell you bliss in your will and that is all. I only follow the formula for constant bliss when I think I need it, my brain and my self are at my own disposal to do with as I please. I am freedom, freedom is me.
However Freedom is just a feeling and chaos is just a concept. Order is just an idealization and everything can be just as infinite and finite as we wish. Embrace it all and you will cheat death within your lifetime.
It is my drive and my ambition that puts such a high price toward enjoyment. It's so strange, I love sadness sometimes and deep melancholy, It reminds me that I still have a heart. When I am sad it is like a sweet symphony, a harrowing minor shift into major and divine inspiration. (
If joy and Ecstasy are the shimmering surface of a pond than sadness and melancholy is the somber dark green depths where the bottomfeeders of the imagination lurk. The key to optimism is knowing when to have pride and when not to. If money is high, friends are sociable, and everything is prospering than be merry. Prosper as well. Be like a blade of grass in the rainy season, humility can kill if we aren't careful of it. Too much humility is like the heavily abused dog that comes back to the master with its tail wagging. I know too many people that suffer from this, and it's tricky because you cannot cure a person with too much humility by telling them how they should be. You have to invoke inspiration in them, you have to make them realize they are great and their potential is great.
The key to always enjoying yourself however is to have the right amount of humility when necessary. When money is low, you have lost respect, and people around you seem to be happier then have humility. When I look at where I live, what I have accomplished, what image I put off, and think it seems unsatisfactory I laugh. I laugh at myself and realise I am just the little creature trying to make the entire world fall before myself. I laugh because it is failure that has given us the diversity we have today, yes I know, crazy talk. But if nature were afraid to fail it would go nowhere, eventually the organism that plays it safe for too long goes extinct. We have to change constantly and we have to adapt in order to survive but also to be satisfied.
We humans are too smart to not take full advantage and feel the greatest pleasure nature is capable of, it is right here in our bodies. This could be an argument for drugs, but it is actually one against it. We can feel happier without them as crazy as that sounds. What if I told you I knew the perfect formula to experience bliss at all times? Well I tell you bliss in your will and that is all. I only follow the formula for constant bliss when I think I need it, my brain and my self are at my own disposal to do with as I please. I am freedom, freedom is me.
However Freedom is just a feeling and chaos is just a concept. Order is just an idealization and everything can be just as infinite and finite as we wish. Embrace it all and you will cheat death within your lifetime.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Sick and Tired
Why would I procrastinate two 10 page papers until the night before they are due you might ask? Because I want to secretly kill myself from sleep deprivation and I am a dumbass. Gahd shoot me!
Friday, April 8, 2011
Growth in a stigma
The things I am about to say come out of my own mind, although I use different words for perspective such as we, you, us, our, humanity etc. . . . . it is all hypothetical perspectives played out in my head. I can only imagine what the human race as a whole thinks or believes, I cannot actually speak for billions of people. I can only observe common patterns in human thought and extrapolate trends I believe to fairly accurate. It is safe to say that the rest of humanity effects my thought patterns and in a way shares similarities both within inherited traits and learned traits. It is also safe to assume that my inherited traits for the most part are not totally unique in their nature, DNA has a rubric for homo sapiens that for the most part repeats quite often. All minute differences aside I will now tell you what I have observed in my brain and pose a theory,
In my mind there has always been a stigma between religion and evolution, which is quite ironic now that I look at it because the stigma is created through the anomaly of evolution itself. Looking at the grand perspective of humankind I have realized that religion can be analogous to the action that propels evolution, religious teaching as well as governmental laws is a rubric of commands that are meant to apply to the entire populace. I will use America as an example: If you think of human behavior as organelles of the cell the physical governmental institution itself is like RNA, it sort of regulates and commands the flow of cellular work. The Nucleus is the white house. The laws of a civilization is like the DNA, the law is what commands the physical governmental institution (RNA) what actions to carry forward to regulate the processes of the cell. Now that the analogy is in mind it is easy to understand why this would be effective, after all it's an effective strategy for our cells, which are living subunits that are propelled to expend energy in order to grow so logically it would follow that a similar rubric in the organization of individuals contributing to the group would be similar. This is because a group of individuals in a species must also expend energy for the species to perpetuate and grow as well.
So where does religion come into play for survival strategy? Religion in and of itself is the act of mutation, the result of current thought patterns and organization strategies is the result of that mutation. Humans are mimicking the nature of genes and the survival strategies of life in how they organize themselves. Once religion was started in various parts of the globe it effected how laws were made and thus how people have behaved for thousands of years. This has to have an effect on the development of our brains in that a law abiding citizen has the most reproductive success. But what accounts for the overall lack of leaders in human society? The general population consists of an average type of IQ and mindset that tends to follow. If being a human leader means large reproductive success wouldn't it mean that we would eventually have nothing but leader genes? First I will finish the analogy before addressing these questions.
Every religion has a similar pattern of maintaining peace among the ranks, this also makes the most sense in that the most fitness for the group maintains the most fitness for the individuals. There is no religion that survives today that has laws such as kill thy neighbor, steal from each other, leave your parents, jump off a cliff and thus receive the lord. Rules such as these would not survive long because the followers will soon disappear and not maintain them. Human sacrifice has been found in older religions, but this did not have as much success as the less violent religions. But all the same Aztec religion never demanded sacrifices beyond an unsustainable payload and mostly entailed the sacrifice of other groups such as the Mayans. etc. . . . Although it could be debated what exactly happened in history, it would just be semantics. Now let me emphasize that this shows religion to be a natural product or occurrence of human evolution. This thus goes into an even deeper realm of evolution that involves the occurrence of communication, which is the foundation for how religion is delivered.
It is safe to say that communication occurs between all individuals within a species and even cross species but that is a topic of latter discussion. Communication is a necessity for reproduction, gregarious behavior, and keeps the occurrence of cannibalism down. Without a means to communicate individuals would commence in eating each other, reproducing with just about anything, and no group behavior can thus occur. Communication is a successful survival strategy for species. The amount of which fluctuates between different specie forms.
Now the need for shamans has all but disappeared because of a very key phenomenon, religion, culture, and government were evolving. It is hard to distinguish when, but the oldest evidence is in the code of Hammurabi. This is the first occurrence of written law and without any conscious awareness of what the creators had done, they made headway for the foundation of written religious practices, commands, laws, and accounts. After this point the shaman is no longer needed because a universal commandment can take the place of the "words of the gods" and effectively it also takes away their "will" as it was imagined by the shaman as well.
What does this mean for the present time period however? This means that; regardless of origin, it is a proven observation that nature follows an evolutionary pattern which favors reproductive success. Religion is a practice that effects the behavior of individuals and it follows that anything effecting the behavior of individuals effects their reproductive success. So therefore Religion is a result from the patterns of evolution.
Is it a coincidence that religions tend to favor the passage past the sky and into the heavens as the best pursuit for a human to follow and evolution favors individuals that find new niches?
Is it a coincidence that the only species capable of interstellar travel so far has developed a means for duplicating the mechanics of DNA with concepts such as government, laws, and religion to organize species behavior?
Religion is a part of progress but it can also hinder progress much like DNA. In order for religion to have the greatest evolutionary success it has to be able to mutate and adapt. In order for humanity to have the greatest success we must also take into consideration the evolutionary advantages of religion. The question is whether religion has effected our psyche over time to the extent that we are not capable of grasping anything beyond it without mutation. I must take a break I will come back to this latter.
In my mind there has always been a stigma between religion and evolution, which is quite ironic now that I look at it because the stigma is created through the anomaly of evolution itself. Looking at the grand perspective of humankind I have realized that religion can be analogous to the action that propels evolution, religious teaching as well as governmental laws is a rubric of commands that are meant to apply to the entire populace. I will use America as an example: If you think of human behavior as organelles of the cell the physical governmental institution itself is like RNA, it sort of regulates and commands the flow of cellular work. The Nucleus is the white house. The laws of a civilization is like the DNA, the law is what commands the physical governmental institution (RNA) what actions to carry forward to regulate the processes of the cell. Now that the analogy is in mind it is easy to understand why this would be effective, after all it's an effective strategy for our cells, which are living subunits that are propelled to expend energy in order to grow so logically it would follow that a similar rubric in the organization of individuals contributing to the group would be similar. This is because a group of individuals in a species must also expend energy for the species to perpetuate and grow as well.
So where does religion come into play for survival strategy? Religion in and of itself is the act of mutation, the result of current thought patterns and organization strategies is the result of that mutation. Humans are mimicking the nature of genes and the survival strategies of life in how they organize themselves. Once religion was started in various parts of the globe it effected how laws were made and thus how people have behaved for thousands of years. This has to have an effect on the development of our brains in that a law abiding citizen has the most reproductive success. But what accounts for the overall lack of leaders in human society? The general population consists of an average type of IQ and mindset that tends to follow. If being a human leader means large reproductive success wouldn't it mean that we would eventually have nothing but leader genes? First I will finish the analogy before addressing these questions.
Every religion has a similar pattern of maintaining peace among the ranks, this also makes the most sense in that the most fitness for the group maintains the most fitness for the individuals. There is no religion that survives today that has laws such as kill thy neighbor, steal from each other, leave your parents, jump off a cliff and thus receive the lord. Rules such as these would not survive long because the followers will soon disappear and not maintain them. Human sacrifice has been found in older religions, but this did not have as much success as the less violent religions. But all the same Aztec religion never demanded sacrifices beyond an unsustainable payload and mostly entailed the sacrifice of other groups such as the Mayans. etc. . . . Although it could be debated what exactly happened in history, it would just be semantics. Now let me emphasize that this shows religion to be a natural product or occurrence of human evolution. This thus goes into an even deeper realm of evolution that involves the occurrence of communication, which is the foundation for how religion is delivered.
It is safe to say that communication occurs between all individuals within a species and even cross species but that is a topic of latter discussion. Communication is a necessity for reproduction, gregarious behavior, and keeps the occurrence of cannibalism down. Without a means to communicate individuals would commence in eating each other, reproducing with just about anything, and no group behavior can thus occur. Communication is a successful survival strategy for species. The amount of which fluctuates between different specie forms.
Now the need for shamans has all but disappeared because of a very key phenomenon, religion, culture, and government were evolving. It is hard to distinguish when, but the oldest evidence is in the code of Hammurabi. This is the first occurrence of written law and without any conscious awareness of what the creators had done, they made headway for the foundation of written religious practices, commands, laws, and accounts. After this point the shaman is no longer needed because a universal commandment can take the place of the "words of the gods" and effectively it also takes away their "will" as it was imagined by the shaman as well.
What does this mean for the present time period however? This means that; regardless of origin, it is a proven observation that nature follows an evolutionary pattern which favors reproductive success. Religion is a practice that effects the behavior of individuals and it follows that anything effecting the behavior of individuals effects their reproductive success. So therefore Religion is a result from the patterns of evolution.
Is it a coincidence that religions tend to favor the passage past the sky and into the heavens as the best pursuit for a human to follow and evolution favors individuals that find new niches?
Is it a coincidence that the only species capable of interstellar travel so far has developed a means for duplicating the mechanics of DNA with concepts such as government, laws, and religion to organize species behavior?
Religion is a part of progress but it can also hinder progress much like DNA. In order for religion to have the greatest evolutionary success it has to be able to mutate and adapt. In order for humanity to have the greatest success we must also take into consideration the evolutionary advantages of religion. The question is whether religion has effected our psyche over time to the extent that we are not capable of grasping anything beyond it without mutation. I must take a break I will come back to this latter.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Friends of Harolds
I believe intravenous Heroin is direct evidence that if a human being were given a little taste of heaven, they will become capable of the greatest evils to get a little more.
The Reasons this drug is pursued is perfectly innocent, we want to achieve the greatest pleasure and happiness with the least amount of effort. The kind of joys we are promised as children, just be yourself and you will be happy. You do not need money to be happy, but you need it to survive, and unfortunately you need to survive if you want to perpetuate your happiness. These promises we are told are also very innocent in their nature, it's only to motivate us. We are told these things only because our parents wish the best for us. Parents fail to realize that their children also wish the best for others, and not everyone is that motivated or happy (like some parents) . The irony of satisfying ourselves in life is that when we are on drugs, we suffer from lack of motivation and when we are sober we suffer from boredom/apathy.
Although the reasons are innocent for such a pursuit nothing in life can come that easy, a working and surviving organism doesn't burn all that energy to have full awareness to just sit and enjoy it's own devices. If you really want to relax to your fullest potential than just die, that is the best sleep you will ever get. We are at this moment in time with the greatest potential any group of atoms can have, why waste it? There is plenty of other time to turn to waste.
If man could he would hold the whole universe by the reins, he just hasn't made the reins yet.
Maybe it's only a matter of time. . . . .
The Reasons this drug is pursued is perfectly innocent, we want to achieve the greatest pleasure and happiness with the least amount of effort. The kind of joys we are promised as children, just be yourself and you will be happy. You do not need money to be happy, but you need it to survive, and unfortunately you need to survive if you want to perpetuate your happiness. These promises we are told are also very innocent in their nature, it's only to motivate us. We are told these things only because our parents wish the best for us. Parents fail to realize that their children also wish the best for others, and not everyone is that motivated or happy (like some parents) . The irony of satisfying ourselves in life is that when we are on drugs, we suffer from lack of motivation and when we are sober we suffer from boredom/apathy.
Although the reasons are innocent for such a pursuit nothing in life can come that easy, a working and surviving organism doesn't burn all that energy to have full awareness to just sit and enjoy it's own devices. If you really want to relax to your fullest potential than just die, that is the best sleep you will ever get. We are at this moment in time with the greatest potential any group of atoms can have, why waste it? There is plenty of other time to turn to waste.
If man could he would hold the whole universe by the reins, he just hasn't made the reins yet.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Conflicted
I am concerned for my friend, he is heading down a slippery slope. His habit is not healthy and to be frank it has sucked the life out of him. Just want to get that out there, so I can have practice for talking to his parents or him.
It's funny to think about the people I surround myself with. It seems like a human predisposition to surround yourself with people that praise you, or maybe that's just me. Sometimes it's hard to confront my demons and sometimes it's not. surprisingly it is when I am my most eccentric and my ego is sweltering at record temperatures that I am best able to confront my sad truths. It is at the peak of the roller coaster ride in my feelings that a missing piece of the track doesn't bother me, I'm free to die at any time* I am at the crest of my wave and the sun is in my face instead of refracted in the ripples of my watery random thoughts.
Right now it is not hard to confront my problems, I feel something incredible is going to happen soon. It's like that burning sensation I had when I turned my life around before, and this time around I have gained the painful wisdom of experience, I am not getting knocked down this time. I had a dream last night that was so incredible I was aloof all day, my friend would talk to me and I would space out everything he was saying. The dream was a lucid dream, and my brain knows what kind of hell can be raised when this happens. I kept imagining colors and objects that were so beautiful and abstract they could never exist in real life. The colors had identities and feelings. I could feel the colors;
But not the way you feel them on psychedelics.
No, I felt them in a way that was highly complex. Where one green could be mixed with a thousand different blues in a thousand different combinations and the frequency it would vibrate at would give it a kind of oscillation and free forming dimensionality. This is the downright interesting part of the dream, this is a part I might paint of many.
No the strange part of my dream seemed like a face off with destiny, the existence of which is debatable but I would stand to pose a theory that our lives are a self fulfilling prophecy, part of which is satisfied in our dreams. What happened in the dream reminds me of the quote "As you gaze into the Abyss, so the Abyss gazes back into you."
I was looking at a giant movie poster, of my own face. My hair was blowing in the wind and I felt detached to this personage. Like it was my mental projection of myself and my true self was sitting outside of my body looking at what other people see when they see me. In the picture my mustache was much thicker and it started turning upright into a Dali style. As this happened my face turned into a grimacing smile and white letters bled into the foreground saying, "Coming soon to a theatre near you!" Very strange, strange that this came out of my mind.
Everything hinges on me making it to the summer, I can do this. This is the end of my post. My posts can end at any time because writing for me is a healing process, while painting is a process that makes me whole so it can never end.
*In this post I would like to leave an asterisk to show what point that the sadness I felt at the beginning of the post melted away. Strange that it happened from those simple words.
It's funny to think about the people I surround myself with. It seems like a human predisposition to surround yourself with people that praise you, or maybe that's just me. Sometimes it's hard to confront my demons and sometimes it's not. surprisingly it is when I am my most eccentric and my ego is sweltering at record temperatures that I am best able to confront my sad truths. It is at the peak of the roller coaster ride in my feelings that a missing piece of the track doesn't bother me, I'm free to die at any time* I am at the crest of my wave and the sun is in my face instead of refracted in the ripples of my watery random thoughts.
Right now it is not hard to confront my problems, I feel something incredible is going to happen soon. It's like that burning sensation I had when I turned my life around before, and this time around I have gained the painful wisdom of experience, I am not getting knocked down this time. I had a dream last night that was so incredible I was aloof all day, my friend would talk to me and I would space out everything he was saying. The dream was a lucid dream, and my brain knows what kind of hell can be raised when this happens. I kept imagining colors and objects that were so beautiful and abstract they could never exist in real life. The colors had identities and feelings. I could feel the colors;
But not the way you feel them on psychedelics.
No, I felt them in a way that was highly complex. Where one green could be mixed with a thousand different blues in a thousand different combinations and the frequency it would vibrate at would give it a kind of oscillation and free forming dimensionality. This is the downright interesting part of the dream, this is a part I might paint of many.
No the strange part of my dream seemed like a face off with destiny, the existence of which is debatable but I would stand to pose a theory that our lives are a self fulfilling prophecy, part of which is satisfied in our dreams. What happened in the dream reminds me of the quote "As you gaze into the Abyss, so the Abyss gazes back into you."
I was looking at a giant movie poster, of my own face. My hair was blowing in the wind and I felt detached to this personage. Like it was my mental projection of myself and my true self was sitting outside of my body looking at what other people see when they see me. In the picture my mustache was much thicker and it started turning upright into a Dali style. As this happened my face turned into a grimacing smile and white letters bled into the foreground saying, "Coming soon to a theatre near you!" Very strange, strange that this came out of my mind.
Everything hinges on me making it to the summer, I can do this. This is the end of my post. My posts can end at any time because writing for me is a healing process, while painting is a process that makes me whole so it can never end.
*In this post I would like to leave an asterisk to show what point that the sadness I felt at the beginning of the post melted away. Strange that it happened from those simple words.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
This is F.A.B
F A N D P
A U
L
L G
I N
N I
G D
L
D I
O U
W B
N A N D
Building up seems like so much longer and the decent is just far enough that the plunge downward seems more appealing. They should just call Reincarnation "Spiritual Recycling" and Heaven "the final purchase." Religion is the most beautiful part of humanity and I can never take part. I cannot commit, and when I do I can never believe. I can write with both hands quite well now, I am reaching fever pitch. It's either make it now or spiral into madness forever.
A U
L
L G
I N
N I
G D
L
D I
O U
W B
N A N D
Building up seems like so much longer and the decent is just far enough that the plunge downward seems more appealing. They should just call Reincarnation "Spiritual Recycling" and Heaven "the final purchase." Religion is the most beautiful part of humanity and I can never take part. I cannot commit, and when I do I can never believe. I can write with both hands quite well now, I am reaching fever pitch. It's either make it now or spiral into madness forever.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Soaking into this sentence
Back to check out this hole I have dug, what a deep one. All blog updates from followers, none. Perfect. The key to modern living as a poor person is to learn to enjoy the color of white walls, especially as it fades into a dull Grey and almost coffee type tone depending on the occupants dirt and dander. I like dandy lions and lions that are dandy, that is something I don't have to learn to enjoy. I would like to start a college course, Enjoying Sunsets 201. It will be a class that goes so in depth about the patterns of sunsets that they become utterly mundane. Every sunset the passing student See's will never leave them dumbfounded but rather unimpressed by the forms and colors. I've got many more ideas to send to the board of directors:
Exasperating moments of Happiness 312
Using Favors as leverage 111
How to Convince a Junkie 113
During the winter I have two loves: music and art. However I consider those two the same thing, along with writing. and during the summer nature gets added to the list. However I have recently been severely deprived of all three. This is what makes me unhappy. I have been a largely emotional guy most of my life, but that was because I didn't realize what my true outlet was. Now that I have it and can't use it I feel so empty, like I am trapped in the cookie cutter jaws of familiarity. Wake up, eat oatmeal or whatever I can find, Wait for my room mate to shoot up for like 45 minutes, share a cigarette, get dropped off at Front range a couple hours before class depending on his work schedule, go to the library instead of doing homework, go into class and barely manage to keep up, go back to the library and read about fossils, physics, light refraction etc. . . . get picked up. Come home and procrastinate procrastinate procrastinate.
In a way I am like a junkie as well, I am addicted to expression. I am addicted to my curiosity. I am addicted to actually having something to show for my work. What are we supposed to do with our tools we are given in college? Become a teacher? A pharmacist? A translator? A designer? It seems like it boils down to two things, recycling old ways or creating something new. How differently can a person in architecture build a bathroom? How many different poses do people really desire to portray in portraiture? I want to create things that do one better than just copying the old design of god, a form a function a law a obfuscation to mask it a purpose a resolution. I want to show combination's of forms that portray something inexpressible and beyond our normal plane of sight, something that actually twists the mind. But I want to display it in such a way that the person knows it's happening and wants it to happen. But I am really tired and I don't know what I am saying
Exasperating moments of Happiness 312
Using Favors as leverage 111
How to Convince a Junkie 113
During the winter I have two loves: music and art. However I consider those two the same thing, along with writing. and during the summer nature gets added to the list. However I have recently been severely deprived of all three. This is what makes me unhappy. I have been a largely emotional guy most of my life, but that was because I didn't realize what my true outlet was. Now that I have it and can't use it I feel so empty, like I am trapped in the cookie cutter jaws of familiarity. Wake up, eat oatmeal or whatever I can find, Wait for my room mate to shoot up for like 45 minutes, share a cigarette, get dropped off at Front range a couple hours before class depending on his work schedule, go to the library instead of doing homework, go into class and barely manage to keep up, go back to the library and read about fossils, physics, light refraction etc. . . . get picked up. Come home and procrastinate procrastinate procrastinate.
In a way I am like a junkie as well, I am addicted to expression. I am addicted to my curiosity. I am addicted to actually having something to show for my work. What are we supposed to do with our tools we are given in college? Become a teacher? A pharmacist? A translator? A designer? It seems like it boils down to two things, recycling old ways or creating something new. How differently can a person in architecture build a bathroom? How many different poses do people really desire to portray in portraiture? I want to create things that do one better than just copying the old design of god, a form a function a law a obfuscation to mask it a purpose a resolution. I want to show combination's of forms that portray something inexpressible and beyond our normal plane of sight, something that actually twists the mind. But I want to display it in such a way that the person knows it's happening and wants it to happen. But I am really tired and I don't know what I am saying
Thursday, March 10, 2011
you don't have to
Another night of studying and I have to get my thoughts into words or I will die with them in a sea of paperwork.
It isn't necessary to imagine the world ending in fire or ice. There are two other possibilities: one is paperwork, and the other is nostalgia. ~Frank Zappa
I love Zappa, he is like my Uncle Erny, optimistic, intelligent and down right silly.
How true that is, nostalgia is a silent killer of progress and it is more infectious than any virus. It comes from the inside, and I would liken it to cancer. All my ties to home are like a tumor that needs to be abscessed. Cruel words, Cruel words from a not nearly as serious or cruel man. Obviously the love is there in space but it shouldn't be weighed by time.
But let me digress from all this bullshit, it is my strongest appeal and allure. I try to bounce, the sentences, around, so it seems like, I am actually talking to you. and I really am! I am actually shouting in your ear, I am actually stepping on your toes. Soooo. . . . . . .Onto the heart of the matter;
My current feelings:
Frustration, but of a sympathetic kind.
Pessimism
and finally nostalgia.
I have frustration and an almost fascination with people who avoid sentimentality. I am actually not a very sentimental guy, I express my thoughts sentimentally to give them weight and truth. How I feel about most things is usually never how they actually are, so if I expressed my true sentiments, which I sometimes do; it seems so deceitful and therein lies my humor. Humor is psychologically defined as a violation of your expectations, a somewhat cold and sterile approach I suppose, but effective for the masses all the same. If I give my true feelings about a piece of furniture and tell how it reminds me of old dishrags and sweaty maids, the result (9 times out of 10, and 10 times out of 9) will be laughter. This is easy, to make someone laugh you have to give them the impression you are breaking the rules but at the same time indicate you are nervous to what the people around you are thinking. It's a delicate process, easily shattered and easily manipulated. However the best way to manipulate people is to be so effective that we manipulate ourselves, so I am not frightened by manipulation. I wish we could be better at it, so the game could be more fun. Of course if and only if the game hurts just a little rather than a lot.
So I have given two thesis for what makes me who I am; unsentimental, but honest. Which is a bit of a paradox as personalities can be this way. Thus the personality traits have been fused into one, hypocrisy. I find being called a hypocrite is a compliment, it is the most effective approach to avoiding the stagnation of routine and decision making. However I also indirectly have shown another part of my personality, my dissecting nature. Whether or not I have the knowledge to back it up is always thrown onto the table, but effectively I have never paid heed to knowledge as the great decider of what makes a person a genius. It is all the attitude, A person can speculate about what is underground all they want, it is the adventurous spirit that digs up the soil and uncovers those hidden worlds. No my friends Knowledge is what you display at dinner parties when somebody mentions a subject you know about. Wisedom is something we all get for free but it comes at a time when nobody will listen to you. Intelligence is something we are born with but is something we must slowly destroy to fit into society. Logic is where the genius reigns supreme, but it is a monarchy, the only way we can expand logic is war and every thought of every minute is a war for me. You can teach me and I can teach you, but when will we all learn? Paradigm shifts require vast remodeling of the public concious, a real tedious process which requires interpreters. Luckily we come from many lines of organisms that self organize.
I'm done, coffee is brewing and I need to finish my streak of 3 nights without sleep.
It isn't necessary to imagine the world ending in fire or ice. There are two other possibilities: one is paperwork, and the other is nostalgia. ~Frank Zappa
I love Zappa, he is like my Uncle Erny, optimistic, intelligent and down right silly.
How true that is, nostalgia is a silent killer of progress and it is more infectious than any virus. It comes from the inside, and I would liken it to cancer. All my ties to home are like a tumor that needs to be abscessed. Cruel words, Cruel words from a not nearly as serious or cruel man. Obviously the love is there in space but it shouldn't be weighed by time.
But let me digress from all this bullshit, it is my strongest appeal and allure. I try to bounce, the sentences, around, so it seems like, I am actually talking to you. and I really am! I am actually shouting in your ear, I am actually stepping on your toes. Soooo. . . . . . .Onto the heart of the matter;
My current feelings:
Frustration, but of a sympathetic kind.
Pessimism
and finally nostalgia.
I have frustration and an almost fascination with people who avoid sentimentality. I am actually not a very sentimental guy, I express my thoughts sentimentally to give them weight and truth. How I feel about most things is usually never how they actually are, so if I expressed my true sentiments, which I sometimes do; it seems so deceitful and therein lies my humor. Humor is psychologically defined as a violation of your expectations, a somewhat cold and sterile approach I suppose, but effective for the masses all the same. If I give my true feelings about a piece of furniture and tell how it reminds me of old dishrags and sweaty maids, the result (9 times out of 10, and 10 times out of 9) will be laughter. This is easy, to make someone laugh you have to give them the impression you are breaking the rules but at the same time indicate you are nervous to what the people around you are thinking. It's a delicate process, easily shattered and easily manipulated. However the best way to manipulate people is to be so effective that we manipulate ourselves, so I am not frightened by manipulation. I wish we could be better at it, so the game could be more fun. Of course if and only if the game hurts just a little rather than a lot.
So I have given two thesis for what makes me who I am; unsentimental, but honest. Which is a bit of a paradox as personalities can be this way. Thus the personality traits have been fused into one, hypocrisy. I find being called a hypocrite is a compliment, it is the most effective approach to avoiding the stagnation of routine and decision making. However I also indirectly have shown another part of my personality, my dissecting nature. Whether or not I have the knowledge to back it up is always thrown onto the table, but effectively I have never paid heed to knowledge as the great decider of what makes a person a genius. It is all the attitude, A person can speculate about what is underground all they want, it is the adventurous spirit that digs up the soil and uncovers those hidden worlds. No my friends Knowledge is what you display at dinner parties when somebody mentions a subject you know about. Wisedom is something we all get for free but it comes at a time when nobody will listen to you. Intelligence is something we are born with but is something we must slowly destroy to fit into society. Logic is where the genius reigns supreme, but it is a monarchy, the only way we can expand logic is war and every thought of every minute is a war for me. You can teach me and I can teach you, but when will we all learn? Paradigm shifts require vast remodeling of the public concious, a real tedious process which requires interpreters. Luckily we come from many lines of organisms that self organize.
I'm done, coffee is brewing and I need to finish my streak of 3 nights without sleep.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Giving up: (The Summary of my time in Fort Collins so far.)
I am giving up on being normal, successful, or meaningful. Giving up on the game and going to look at the clouds. I am giving up on finding out the meaning of life and focusing on finding out the meaning of myself. Nietzsche once said every man is his own prison but for me I am my only escape. You can try and follow my trail of tears to find their delta but all you will see is the negative image of roots deeply embedded in laughter.
I have stowed myself in the fibers of every canvas and sealed myself in a tomb of paint, so when you look at me what you see is the image I want you to see; A narcissistic fanatic who exceeds his egotism by pretending he is a virtuoso, he pretends he's a Dali by becoming a Domi, he pretends he's from the renaissance by becoming a Domini, but that is not me for I am the son of Anthony, the greatest father in history who is cursed with me, the devilish child. I love my father, but I also am my father and he does not love himself. I want to show the world what he can make, I want to show how great he is to the world through myself; the prodigal son.
Art was a legitimate possession for me, it took over my entire psyche. I remember feeling my brain change the moment I set those markers to her arm, and I could hear and feel her heart beating faster. It was throbbing in my mind until it reached my cerebellum and took the rhythm of my heart. The transfer of the gift of art happened right there in that room, almost as if we were experiencing history in the making. Maybe. . . Even if I make no difference as an artist I know that some aspect of my life could serve as a lesson to somebody, I have seen too much and been a part of way too many profound things.
I had a friend tell me about a girl I used to see the other day, he was telling me that after they had sex she talked to him about me. Saying that she had a huge crush on me, but that I was crazy. and I was, and I am. It's a fact that I am just going to have to accept, what is the difference between genius and insanity? One small step forward and out into a chasm of shrill screams. I used to be immersed in science as a child and then I found music and then I got expelled from school. My mom told me she always thought she lost a naturalist in the making during that transition, watching that child chase insects down the bank until he slipped into the rhythm of the river of creativity. Soon I would emerge and be reborn once more, science would take over my life again for another brief heave and sigh in the tension of my life's web. Then I found drugs and art made me fall into a decomposing cave among collapsing veins and dying junkies. I am not like them in my habit choices, but I am like them in my addiction and my obsessions. Food, money, shelter, and comfort mean nothing to me. I need to find that answer I have been looking for, I need to find my way back into the light. The instant greed corrupts the mind you become more poor than you will ever be. I found that out the hard way, but I never desired wealth or status. I desired fame, but indirectly for something else, a legacy. A way for my life to matter.
At least that's what I thought made it matter; there was a schism in my personality that resulted from psychedelics, there is the clown, the artist, and the philosopher. However the philosopher is also divided into the idealist and the nihilist. Plato and Nietzsche are always fighting each other in my mind; it's when they make love that things get strange. But how many times will I write down a good idea for a painting when I feel I don't have time to make the painting instead of actually making it!? How many times will my most profound insights turn into an idea for a painting? How often will my inner clown feel the temptation to become anarchic and make it impossible for anyone to see the essence and truth behind what I say in words and in images? The answer is indefinitely, it's a part of my curse, but it's a blessing in disguise for I have found the key to to true perpetual motion in thought, the paradox will generate a tremendous feedback loop, and maybe at any moment I will reach the zenith of momentum and finally plummet into the hands of fate. I'm either going to die a legend or die in the depths of a rainforest smothered in life, I will never be buried in the those modern cookie cutter sarcophagus' we call coffins, the thought of having to have yet another house to trap me in death disturbs me greatly.
I have stowed myself in the fibers of every canvas and sealed myself in a tomb of paint, so when you look at me what you see is the image I want you to see; A narcissistic fanatic who exceeds his egotism by pretending he is a virtuoso, he pretends he's a Dali by becoming a Domi, he pretends he's from the renaissance by becoming a Domini, but that is not me for I am the son of Anthony, the greatest father in history who is cursed with me, the devilish child. I love my father, but I also am my father and he does not love himself. I want to show the world what he can make, I want to show how great he is to the world through myself; the prodigal son.
Art was a legitimate possession for me, it took over my entire psyche. I remember feeling my brain change the moment I set those markers to her arm, and I could hear and feel her heart beating faster. It was throbbing in my mind until it reached my cerebellum and took the rhythm of my heart. The transfer of the gift of art happened right there in that room, almost as if we were experiencing history in the making. Maybe. . . Even if I make no difference as an artist I know that some aspect of my life could serve as a lesson to somebody, I have seen too much and been a part of way too many profound things.
I had a friend tell me about a girl I used to see the other day, he was telling me that after they had sex she talked to him about me. Saying that she had a huge crush on me, but that I was crazy. and I was, and I am. It's a fact that I am just going to have to accept, what is the difference between genius and insanity? One small step forward and out into a chasm of shrill screams. I used to be immersed in science as a child and then I found music and then I got expelled from school. My mom told me she always thought she lost a naturalist in the making during that transition, watching that child chase insects down the bank until he slipped into the rhythm of the river of creativity. Soon I would emerge and be reborn once more, science would take over my life again for another brief heave and sigh in the tension of my life's web. Then I found drugs and art made me fall into a decomposing cave among collapsing veins and dying junkies. I am not like them in my habit choices, but I am like them in my addiction and my obsessions. Food, money, shelter, and comfort mean nothing to me. I need to find that answer I have been looking for, I need to find my way back into the light. The instant greed corrupts the mind you become more poor than you will ever be. I found that out the hard way, but I never desired wealth or status. I desired fame, but indirectly for something else, a legacy. A way for my life to matter.
At least that's what I thought made it matter; there was a schism in my personality that resulted from psychedelics, there is the clown, the artist, and the philosopher. However the philosopher is also divided into the idealist and the nihilist. Plato and Nietzsche are always fighting each other in my mind; it's when they make love that things get strange. But how many times will I write down a good idea for a painting when I feel I don't have time to make the painting instead of actually making it!? How many times will my most profound insights turn into an idea for a painting? How often will my inner clown feel the temptation to become anarchic and make it impossible for anyone to see the essence and truth behind what I say in words and in images? The answer is indefinitely, it's a part of my curse, but it's a blessing in disguise for I have found the key to to true perpetual motion in thought, the paradox will generate a tremendous feedback loop, and maybe at any moment I will reach the zenith of momentum and finally plummet into the hands of fate. I'm either going to die a legend or die in the depths of a rainforest smothered in life, I will never be buried in the those modern cookie cutter sarcophagus' we call coffins, the thought of having to have yet another house to trap me in death disturbs me greatly.
Friday, March 4, 2011
New living and new dying
There has always been this idea that has disturbed me since I left an open mind to any facet of existence, and it is the heaven/hell concept. I would venture to say that if I can believe that there is a heaven or if there is a hell it wouldn't be hard to believe that we are in hell right now, because obviously life isn't perfect. The proportion of happiness to sadness and pain is always tipped in the favor of suffering. No matter how happy a person thinks they are there is always sadness present, this is not ideal. However one could point out that you could have more happiness in life than suffering and therefore for the most part we can be happy and that seeing the brighter side of sadness to move onward is a fact of life. But this is classic conditioning. As children we can never seem to deal with pain the way an adult can and it is a rough transition to get to that point of adulthood because of this. We start out innocent of pain and slowly feel that rape of consciousness as we develop. So idealisations are not that unfounded, we would all seize them at the chance. However it is not hard for me to adapt to feeling pain for myself, it is damn near impossible for me to adapt to seeing others suffer. Hell for me is watching my friends personalities slowly slip into the traps of adulthood, Hell for me is watching my best friend since before I could walk shoot up four times a day and spend hours looking for a vein. He is leeched of life, and leeched of that energy he had when we were younger. I always thought he would be better off than me because he was such a good kid and pursued everything with vivacity and love. However I am not a good person in the least, and I deserve this feeling, he however does not at all. That is where my empathy is tortured to my core.
Monday, February 14, 2011
So I lied. . . .
I guess I am posting again, not that it really matters.
When thinking of the sheer magnitude of the universe I feel the deepest apathy ripping and tearing over my body like a horrible storm. I am In the midst of a screeching cacophony and horrid cataclysm of howling and whistling tendrils, I am like the flame of a candle in the eye of a hurricane. The thundering phantom dark greys and blues of the towering volumes of tortured clouds seem to dapple gently on my skin but at the same time penetrate down to my heart rendering its beats all but a short spasm and a blood curdling sputter in a feeble attempt to outlast the storm. I say it would be better for me to go down in a deep loathing of sadness and self pity than to realize in the end that every one of my efforts were for nothing and any chance at seeing things as they are was drowned out by my naïve optimism. We are living inside a giant raindrop, waiting to hit that abyssal sea of eternity without a single glimmer of light to differentiate amongst the billions of droplets splattering in the froth at the crest of a giant wave threatening to tear into that infinitely renewing surface tension between chaos and order. The problem is that there is no true chaos and no true order, there is no true anything as we will never see where we are going. We could very well be that raindrop in it's final descent. It's at these moments when nothing would comfort me more than if at the last second god dipped his hand into the miasma of raindrops and pulled us out, but it's only a blind hope at best. This is the hopeless romantic dilemma of being human, we want the storm to come, we want the waves to come crashing down because we want to be saved by a messiah that is showered with light and that charges into the waves in a brilliant and beautiful act of martyrdom. We want there to be an amazing story behind what brought us up from the sea and into the dazzling temples of paradise, but out of our cynicism we want it to be more than just a fantasy, we want it to be REAL! Whatever that means, if I feel the way I do then as I am writing this very moment it is already happening right now; although it's only a fleeting glimpse flickering in my mind like the grains of a disintegrating reel of film projected on the wall of my life, waiting to be seen in my final moments.
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