Intervaled Insomnia

A dream was had,

In between

Bits and tads of sleep

Vu’ed Deja

At the age of


That should not

Be had.



I used to get

(And still)



At times

Now always somewhere

But no such time for fret



Inevitable, you see

When what once was

Becomes belief

Of what is wished

To still be.

Such sanctity defiled

For vile

Self deprecating assurance.


But this dream

(As this poem originally schemed)

Seemed to deem

Visions of you,

Above all else.

There was touch

Though ‘twas memory

To feel

How you

Once felt


And smooth,

And soft-

Or so such nocturnal visions

Pulled so taught.


Until waking

To the blinds of staggered light

For despite

All my tardy might

In my arms rests nothing,

Lies no one,

Not you,

The soul these arms

Used to know.


Sunday Morning Thoughts: 12.8.13

This week we will take a look at the idea of progress. Don’t mind that this posting is falsely advertised in regards to its time stamped title. We are going to get a bit abstract, so if that isn’t your kind of thing, turn away now.

But progress and that ever-eluding human ambition seem to be always on my mind and might even find its way into yours here and there. I couldn’t say, as I have never been in your mind. This is your chance to take a glimpse into mine, though this will be metaphorically similar to an iceberg. I can only let so much out at a time.


But moving forward- progress. Get it? See what I did there? Anyway, I may be alone in this but despite progress allegedly being something involving the future, it is really only made up of the past. People guess at what futures may hold and despite many of them being rather educated and plausible, they cannot be known. A person can look back at all they’ve done up to the moment in which they stand and claim that progress is inevitable from there on out. Those people are usual idiots or fools, and not the good kind either.

The problem with probabilities as I see them, is that they don’t account for the improbable. Now this may be my madness or just my faint and fuzzy memory but to the best of my recollection, improbability is one of the key factors in any personal progress that I’ve made. Every leap forward was only vaguely planned, at best.

With that being said, I seem to be at a point in my life that I generally approve of.

Now with that being said, I should profess that in no way am I content. I itch and burn for more and more and more, and those loosely defined intentions do not show the exact way onward. They hardly even suggest which way to go and if they do, it seems to be wrapped in some sort of infuriating riddle. There are projects upon which I work and I have a good job and things along that nature, but if there is any wish of mine that were to be fulfilled, that would be to never be defined as something so single minded as an occupation.

Still, I don’t know how I wish to be defined, at least not exactly. I do know that occurrences that are considered likely, I also consider to be boring. If my memory serves me correctly, which it doesn’t always, the steps I’ve taken in life were not predictable.  Many of the great things were unexpected, while many of my tragedies could have been predicted, except for the true tragedies of course. Pop culture has turned that word into a deformed bastard of its former self.

So what does this mean? Are we all powerless to control our fates? Is progress an idea that only exists within the mind and has no play in reality? It is not my place to provide any sort of answers on such things. Ipso facto… that is exactly what I am going to try and do.

You see, I really rather despise the idea of fate. Whether that is just conditioning from my own personal past will have no effect on my argument against it. Fate is for the lazy. I believe firmly, no matter how foolish, that existence is totally moldable. That’s not to say such a task of metaphysical arts and crafts is easily accomplished. Nor do I think such a deed could be conquered by a single perspective. I just think that ultimately, it can be done.

I suppose the entirety of this half-assed essay could be summed into a simple and very common phrase, that being ‘I don’t know’. But I ask you, where is the elegance and sport in that?

You see, I believe, in each moment as it passes, that existence is the smallest of things. If I were to elaborate, I would confirm this by asking what is it that you truly experience? We’d all like to say the past but that is gone as soon as it passes from the present. The only fossils left behind are memories which can and most certainly will be altered based upon the present in accordance with where one would selfishly like the future to go. It is far more common for one to remember what they want to remember than what they need to remember. Further, I will be so bold as to say that what you want and need to remember is still different from what actually happened as each of those moments originally passed.

Then there’s the future. Everyone is talking about it and yet none of those talking are living like they give any kind of damn. From the tiniest deed to the most massively dire of straits, almost everyone around lives each moment based upon some made promise of some made-up history. Every little sheep tightening their own chains around their own ankles, each one chewing away all that is left of their lives.

But I know this because I often live it. Despite the reputation, a hypocrite would know more about what they are criticizing than he who does not participate.

But all of this doesn’t solve the issue, does it? Is there any such thing as progress? Which moments of time would such a thing even be based off? The past is at best a bent moment of the truth. The present is near immeasurable and far beyond capture. The future is bloated off of the illusions of the other two but is always beyond imagination.


Perhaps it is in that unpredictability that the truth resides. The idea that we will never really know why and that the mystery is that there is no mystery. It can be a terrifying proposal and I’ve spent many a sleepless hour being afraid of such things, even since I was a kid. Trying to grasp how small and insignificant you truly are can cripple anyone with fear. At first.


If you think of all that is that you don’t know and how small and fragile your existence is, you might, with the right amount of madness, see a tremendous amount of freedom.

I do.

And when you begin to grasp such meaninglessness, you understand that if there is a force in the universe that is something like fate, it probably isn’t concerned with you. And that my friends, is freedom beyond imagination and for those with the right kind of madness, that sounds like an opportunity to make yourself into something colossal amongst all that tininess.

So is there such a thing as progress? I would have to say yay but only if thou embraces a good bit of thy insanity.


Sunday Morning Thoughts 3.17.13: A Breath, A Blink, Then A Jump

As time is relative and quite certainly bendable, allow me to limber up my existence. I have been slipping into a state of stagnation that I have no business mucking around in. I’ve had enough and will not tolerate this for a single instant further. I march towards either enlightenment or oblivion with gusto rivaling those warriors of ancient worlds, immortalized in brilliantly durable tales.

You see, I’ve come to realize that I don’t want to deal with nonsensical behavior. This is quite peculiar as I have brought myself to the places where such things occur, in attempts to reach some other landing. I choose to partake in one craft, yet have to fight to feed on the smallest fruits of such a world. I have, essentially, decided that this cannot be anymore.

Now I’m not fool enough to believe that simply not wanting something makes it go away when so many, nearly all, of those around me are convinced that this is how it be, indefinitely. Many of my fellow humans at the very least believe that they survive on some of these behaviors I’ve come out against, so I am left vastly outnumbered. Of course, all this opposition is nonexistent! But you go ahead and try to tell of them that.

I am fool enough to believe that something can be done about it. It is a feeling of obligation, or perhaps vanity. It is certainly selfish. My own preference of circumstance is the driving force behind my intention, though those ideas themselves are borrowed, just as they were borrowed from those before I. These idols of my mentality found the words left for them from human history as it bounced in the wind towards legend. I expect to do the same and hopefully earn the right for my dust to someday make stars.

Yet, this is not now. I have spent more time idling about this idea of now, after spending much too long in the past. It could be argued that being focused on the present leaves you just as far behind the curve as looking behind you. Or I would argue that, at least. The future requires attention and I have placed my hands in the first grooves of that vast stone wall of coming events. This universe roars so loud in my face that I have hid behind atmosphere and synthetic formations, feigning belief that this would keep me safe. I’ve known it hasn’t and wouldn’t and never will.

I’ve been writing poetry again. In fact, I’ve written more poetry this month then I have in all of high school. Certainly stuff of much better quality. Such inspiration should not, and is not taken lightly.

It pains me to know, as knowing often does, that this life of lying about and dreaming is not guaranteed. It is threatened as much as all things are. Though my desire is to stay in this paradise and though I have no intention of abandoning it, I must rise to defend it.

How, is no longer a question. It is quite possible it might never have been one. In fact, I know it never was. It could be supposed that one must look outside believed beliefs to find their own truth but who has time for all that? I did but don’t anymore and despite the grand pursuit of it all, phases fade and pass and I have arrived at such a place.

I should not fret though, only step with patience and grace. I have been practiced in the comfort of my bubble of education and can only grow to pop it from here. As it should be done. I have developed all these talents into skills and tools and weapons of defense for this identity I have sculpted from a pile of cells. Those same cells were once a young boy and will someday be an old man, if I managed to make it that far. But for now, they constitute this young man about to enter what will be the most defining years of his existence. These will be the years my message will get its chance, if it ever will. This now and this coming future will hold my greatest works and my grandest journeys. If I find my immortality, the elixir will be drank in this decade.

I have no use for utopia, only a desire for less dire stances. I have no use for any gods or the promises they make. I have no use for politics or those who politicking. I have no use for false idols, idle speakers or speaking fallacies. I have no use for systematic obedience and ignorance.

Some may hate me and so be it. I’ve heard it all before. I care not for the opinions of masses as they stand.

What shall be done, is production, crafting and creation. The depths of quandary shall be dived into with regard of dangers but certainly no fear. I know, nearly for certain, that all this will be tested. Not slightly, but absolutely placed before destructive fate that will burn the hairs that stand on end. We all will. I hope we can step up and deliver. I hope that I can.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 12.23.12

So there is all of this bad in the world, right? And I have this blog. And I’m rather cynical. So it would be safe to assume that I would talk about all the bad that there is and just dwell on that for ages and ages until new problems emerge as a result of fixing myself upon the tragedies of the past, right? I’m only human, right?

Although it may be true that the flesh and blood that make up this boyish man is branded with an organic expiration date, I am holding rather firmly on to the belief that I may be able to find the means for the idea of this man that I call myself to go beyond that.






Not terribly.


Statistically, at least.


So why bother chasing that idea about to no foreseeable end? It’s because I have pulled out of the mire, only to dive back in several times and each time only finding the same mud as before. The only difference is the warmth caused from my body heat. Too vivid? Excellent.

Well I’ll refrain from the unsightly matters of the mind for a bit and try and find some virtue floating about. Hmmm… well… to start… oh! We survived the most recent apocalypse scare!

Ok, so maybe it was a total hoax to anyone with half of a somewhat rational mind. And so what they found another Mayan calendar that went past the solstice for 2012? And so what our actual demise seems to be dangerously close with global starvation and war and disease and November being the warmest month for 333 consecutive months? There’s a dusting of snow on the ground where I am here on Earth, so maybe not all is lost.

That doesn’t mean we should sit back and expect it to go away. That is stupid, and irresponsible, and lazy, and overall a pretty shitty thing to do not only to others, but really to yourself.

And that very well could be the issue right there. I’m having such a rough time coming up with the positive because I just seem to lack it in my own reality. Although, that may not be entirely true.

I stand with the entirety of my big toe in the pool of my adult life, which is the one I will now be stuck with until I kick the bucket and fall back into the mud, to be pulled apart over decades on the molecular level. I know it’s fascinating stuff, but we have no time for biology here. Or knowledge really. 10th grade was a long ways away.

The point I’m trying to make is not really coming across as anything though, is it? I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ve spent most of the day playing with my facial hair and making things up in my head. I guess I’m only aging in body. Then again, I do feel older. Or is it just more stressed? Is this stress? Is this life? Is this love? WHAT AM I?

That would seem to be the ever present question in my mind and for a few others throughout the history of human consciousness. Yet, with all these strides all that seems to be is finding out what isn’t and nothing about what is. My buddy Tommy Kuhn seemed to be pretty on the spot when he figured that we really aren’t doing much to get ourselves anywhere specific, or anywhere at all. We just need to keep thinking that we are getting somewhere, I guess.


Or not. Maybe we are moving towards something that is grand, and bright, and warm, and is just like nirvana, only with better toilets. Maybe all these issues that plague me and us and the whole lot of humanity are just hiccups that seem so inescapable and unconquerable, will just fade away. Maybe they will be replaced by other issues, but those will just fall away in the same fashion until things just even out and we coast along on our rock in perfect health and no type of conflict, internal or external. And there we will stay until the sun explodes and we are destroyed with all the beautiful fury that created us.

Unless we can travel away and live somewhere else. That would be nice, if we did enough research. Find somewhere that’s got a fresher type of air to breath. Or a place where ham grows on trees. That’d be nice.

But I can’t get there without going through this, can I? I didn’t think so. You’ll have to forgive me. I mean, you don’t have to but I’d like you to. I had been told a whole sort of things that I don’t believe anymore. A lot of things that I was never supposed to doubt are gone now.

But the point. Yes, I guess that I should really at least make an attempt to get to that by now, but I still seem to falling short. Could it be helped? I imagine it could and it will and I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. I’ve made it this far and not to make anyone feel bad, I don’t even try as a hard as I could. I know, some people work their entire lives and never accomplish some of the feats I have found in my past of a 5th of one century. And yet here I am, sitting in at my boyhood desk with my shaggy hair and anarchist beard with nothing in my mind but the same old and a few other tweaks of ideas. And as I sit with nothing to do, my mind will wander to all the places that it’s been and run through a whole assortment of emotions. I’ll feel bad and sad a weak and powerless and glad and inspired and nervous and petrified, and all this without leaving my house.


Alright, let’s face it. There is no point to this right here. Not life, just this post. I just wanted to string a few hundred words together to make some sort of very off beat poetic rant. I wanted to stay on time with these, but I haven’t. Oh well.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 12.16.12

It’s raining in December. I wish it was snowing but it is not. It may be the end of the world, or it might not. Either way, the issue lies in the hole in the bottom of my shoe. I’ve had them since high school but I’ve always had an issue with letting things go. Well, only certain things I suppose. I can let the rest go without a thought. Some sort of distorted value system.

I sit here and soberly stare away at my dying world and only such a small amount of my own fault is at play. That of course, is a lie. I am no saint but am all powerful and therefore all things that go awry are my responsibility. I’ve gotten so good at it that I can hardly notice when I even cause such catastrophes. You think there’d been more guilt but there isn’t. I’ve fallen asleep again and woke up alone, just as intended.

It’s hard to say because I haven’t had but one cigarette today and my addiction is convincing me that I need such things for thought. It will fade and soon. At least, I hope it will be soon.

Frost Bit

Hope and wishing, there I go again. I claim all these bold words against such weak propositions and yet here I am, whining about them. And in my own typical fashion, suggest the faults belong to the very same world that I say I have control over. I need to pick a side, or an argument, or story. I need to begin the grand exploitation of my own self, and mind, and abilities to wield the means to discovery of a greater truth. I need to take a look at myself for one last time and walk out the door towards the future that is only as bright as I want to make it.

Not that my intention simply changes it. I need to work at it. I need to plan, and scheme, and act, and perform, and convince all of you that this as it is, can not be as it were any longer.


I know it may seem tough to you, but that is only how it seems. The world is busy trying to convey this message to you that you have no choice but to adhere to. You are weak and powerless against the tide of things. You as a person, do not have the means to make change, let alone anything to be considered great. You are unable to be what you want, or think what you want, or feel what you want. You are owned by something that your mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend without removing years of observation that has been cleverly disguised as wisdom.

You’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t even been able to watch the regular shit they shuck out on the news because of this whole Connecticut business, which only precedes the whole Oregon mall business by a few days. So that is all I’ve seen for the last few days and pardon me for being numb, but I am. This only a tragedy because it happened in Connecticut and that is not me being insensitive. Anyone who follows the news sees people die in larger numbers every day. 40,000 dead in Syria and few tears have been shed in the land of the free. Don’t worry, there were plenty of kids involved in that. Over 500 they reckon are dead and about 400 have been tortured for information. Statistically, it doesn’t add up.

But let me not let my cynicism take over because I’d like to hold on to whatever foolish bits of optimism I am capable of, if such a thing could even be real. I could talk about the wonderful privilege he that I have being able to grow up at the fattest levels of decadence of the largest empire the world has ever known. We could talk about how so very few things in my life are truly dire or tragic and yet I treat every little hiccup as the end of days, or at least seemingly letting it be so. We could talk about my full stomach, and good physical health, and great access to education.  We could, but we’re not.

We’re not going to because these types of discussion solve nothing, as most discussion does. Not anything against the conversed word, but I know that these words are not said to get anywhere, but rather to argue and perpetuate the ideas at hand. And the whole problem of this issues stems from me not being able to come up with anything meaningful to say yet. I have dragged on for a few hundred words and a several dozen phrases to find myself no wiser than when I was younger and had a car and all of my worries were those I chose to have upon myself. Back when everything I had was fought for by someone else and I was to be grateful. Back when a young boy hand never kissed a girl and didn’t know what to want or what to do. The kiss only first happened about six years ago, so you could imagine that I have only come so far.

Another Dawn

But I have and here I am, sitting atop my tiny little empire with no more words to say at the end as I did in the beginning and that has mostly to do with boredom and attention span. That and vanity. These days of posting the greatest craft that I am capable of into blog posts will be ceasing soon. Or at least changing mode. I may or may not be sorry, but the worth of my words will only go up if I begin to take them more seriously. I was told that I was good at this sort of thing many times. I was told a few years before now as well as with the passing moments.

Somehow, we have wound up here and yet I feel as I have said nothing and am even further from solving anything. This isn’t true though, because I won’t let it. And that, my friends is the wonder of it all. It can only mean what you want it too and that is the truth. Care not for what the rest compare or contrast your actions to because you can make anything mean whatever you want, Now, I trust that you understand how terrifying of a prospect that could be. Truth could be found by in feeding the hungry, just as much as it is found in a class room full of dead 1st graders.  It should be understood that truth does not always mean justice. Nor does justice always mean benevolence. And benevolence could mean pumpkin pie somewhere else in the universe.

We don’t know. I don’t know and I know for a fact that you don’t know. I couldn’t verify or justify any of this, because I don’t imagine that I will be coming back to it anytime soon. I may never read this again, or at least not until I am old enough to be able to not care. That is, if I make it that far. The world is supposed to end in the next few days, so who knows.

If there are typos and misspelling, I kindly suggest that you deal with it. This is better off being posted with timely ideas than having the best grammar. Cheers.

Power Kingdom Bound

Sunday Morning Thoughts 11.4.12 – 11.11.12: The Power of Imagined Shackles and the Remedies for Such Things

There were a few bits that I wrote leading up to this moment. Yes, this very moment that you are experiencing now. It’s quite like the one that will be frozen here for me, but not exactly the same. Those moments will not be brought into this for that very reason. I cannot justify wasting this preciousness on things that have already happened. No offense intended, of course.

No you see, I will be taking control now. I’ve held rein on a few things here and there but now the scales are changing. I don’t know if you see it, but I think I do. I will spend the following moments trying to figure how they’ve changed. Also, what, if anything, I can do about all of this.

I grow weary of being weary. May seem strange to say but it’s the truth. In the ponderings of late, a persistent ache has held my heart in a sad state. Perspective had, and allegedly still has, confined me to this rather narrow ledge. There’s a swirling tempest and all that. It’s quite powerful but only in illusion. And on said ledge, I wonder about hypotheticals until I lose grip and yell out for someone who has become a long lost thought. This will be either out loud or internally, with no clears signs before hand as to which.

You see, I want to get angry. I want to get all worked up about things that seem to be there or not there, and piss and moan because my control is limited. Or non-existent really. From inside, I itch to scream, and hoot, and holler from the top of my lungs, and then stare down into the empty chest cavity where one of those damn hearts should be. I want to yell out loud for sole purpose of being heard.

I want to get all of those things but that would only make me more aware of where I am and how stuck I seem to be. See, the stuckness stems from standing still, so sure that this speck of dust that is I, will never be able to overcome the charging tide. I will be crushed in the wake of movings of large and grand ideas that seek not to destroy me, but go ahead and do so anyway. I am nothingness and my ego cannot seem to grab hold of that concept.

There will be no more of that. My ego can’t understand not being the greatest thing because as far as the damn thing is concerned, I am the grandest being in existence. As nice as it would be this is not necessarily true, though still not false. It depends on the specifications of the questions one is crafting. Regardless, the world that I have at the very least dreamt up seems to be in peril of sorts. ‘Tis the kind of situation that requires bold paradigm changes and failure to try would make me an accessory.

So ponder with me, if thee dares to wander beyond what may be comfortable and take a dip in the wild of existence. I can no longer be at the mercy of any force besides my own spirit which will have no choice but to be filled.

There won’t be another year of books and classes and daydreams about girls. My industriousness will be put to a test or the test, and my merit will be valued at a nominal fee. Although I disagree with the reasons and means of such a system, that fact does not make said system any less enthusiastic about remaining in its place on top of its domain.

But all the practicing that I’ve been doing in regards to dealing with grand moments of realization should have me well conditioned to tackle the meaningful meaninglessness that will come to define who I am. So let’s look at what we’ve got to do here. I mean on a large scale, not a personal one. Changing the world seems to be easier than changing my mind.

But let’s get started with the discussion here. So, this country of ours feigned democracy once again and voted for who they thought would save them. I was one of those registered participants.

They were wrong, of course. After all, they voted in another politician. You can call me hypocrite but you’d be wrong. I voted third party but it doesn’t matter whom. Like I said, I’m just trying to get this paradigm to budge and shift the establishment. I’ll start to focus efforts more specifically, once a bit more gets going with it.

But the glimmer of liberty still lives. There were a few referendums made against the establishment in the form of state ballot initiatives. Legal pot, legal love and one state’s ability to outlaw corporate humanhood are a few to start, with another territory vying for statehood. These are all things that the people of these places decided but we’ll see if these politicians give a damn about what the people have to say. My guess is they don’t.

But fret not, as all we have to do is start speaking louder and more often. We start with talking, but making sure the words said are only what are meant and that those words have sufficient action to support them. I know where I need to get started, or at least where I’ve geared myself to begin. I have a degree in production of some powerful tools, or will be getting one in the near future. From there, work will have to be done delicately and as patiently as one can whilst frantically hurrying.

So what role will you play in this? Well, I suppose there are a few factors to consider but they’re quite vague so it shouldn’t take too long to get through them.

First order of business is to decide what skills you have. We can all do something but many under realize exactly what. Lies are told to selves and all of the sudden, there you are doing exactly what you know you shouldn’t. I know you didn’t want to, but you needed a paycheck right?

This of course leads us to the second concern, the terrible and confounding value system that seems to be in place. Everybody says they need to eat and complain about the prices of everything and it’s totally justifiable to be bummed out. However, if you expect me to believe that in a country of 300 million people there is not a soul with the mind and the means to fix these issues, you had best stop reading.

If efforts put into… let’s say war for example, were to be put into something like… education, I’d imagine that many of our issues wouldn’t be. And when I say education, I don’t mean the peddling of formulated and conditioned response that I have spent most of my life participating in. I mean the real shit. I mean being presented with actual problems and being guided into coming up with your own solution.

Don’t get me wrong, there are people who do this. The problem is the scarce number of such folk. They had persevered through the early rings of what I will call ‘system compliance’ training and worked their way to the elite section of knowledge seekers. We lose a lot of great soldiers to the Scantron sheet along the way. Let’s not let them have fallen in vain.

Thirdly and most importantly, toss away the idea the idea that there is nothing that can be done. That is stupid and childish, but in none of the right ways. You are the only one who can do anything about any of this. As am I. And he is too. And she.

The belief that nothing can be done by us common folk is exactly why nothing will. Shake it off and understand that there is no one who is going to try and fix your issues beside yourself. And if you think for a second that complaining will get things done, fuck yourself. I know that I for one, and many may agree, cannot stand to hear more complaints about nonsense. I have wasted enough time in this world dealing with empty whines about how bad things are from people who have nothing to complain about.

I know that this effort of mine will be difficult. It may be impossible and is certainly not very probable. I may fail. Miserably. All of my words could fall on deaf ears and I could be left with only the values that I held to my heart. This effort could be the death of me but no effort would be worse I imagine. I just can’t understand why anyone would want to live without the pursuit of life. I know I have had my moments, especially of late, where I find myself lacking in some effort. Still, I know that all of this is only helping. I’m only crafting one of my many trades.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 10.28.12: The Naturally Occurring Disaster & Co.

What is this, this place that I have reached? Its peculiarity is only upstaged by its strange serenity. I could power toasters for days whilst millions around me live in darkness after the sun. I am the Toaster King. I have a roar, would you like to hear it?

I can’t recall exactly, but I believe it went something like this…

I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost my mind and the following ordeals that would come to follow that, seem to have come. Whether this holds any kind of worth is not up for debate as of right now. Yet as the saying goes, ‘you cannot be found, unless you first get lost.’ I think Abe Lincoln said that after opening night for ‘Rent’. No, wait, that can’t be true. I think it some other play.

Regardless, my hurricane induced vacation will be drawing to an end. Not too soon, since Con Ed is on the job, but soon enough. And when that happens, the world that had so conveniently shut down for me will be churning at full force. The grind will start and my dark streets for wandering will become lighter. These are facts, or I imagine they are. Truth is quite elusive after all, being right in front of us and all that.

I would worry about what might have been if natural disasters had not been, but there’s no point in that. There’s too much to be done and I have to take the time to do it. Take your prayers and shove them up your ass, I want action. But that depends on the actions of I, as I see no one else who would like to at least imagine that they have the audacity to take on such an deed. Not just play one on TV.

‘The world sucks man. Let it burn. Why would you even want to bother with it?’

‘Because if I don’t, who will? The spirit of the people is distressed and too confused, or uneducated, to know why. I have, or so I’ve been told, some sort of means or abilities or charms to make such an impact.’

‘But you’ll fail, just as everyone else has. Look to your idols who sought the fulfillment of such lofty ideas. Yes, they had effect but even Gandhi failed. He got shot and now there are nuclear weapons as peacemakers in his stead. What could you possibly do?’

‘Well… I mean… I have a few ideas but there’s still a lot of figuring out to do.’

‘Hah! See? There it is, right there. Intent may be bold and noble but outside of what you’d like to do, the tide of the world will overcome ye and ye shall be without banner, nor god, and the metaphorical fire will burn your ceiling from inside.’

But you see, there is no god for me and my banner drips with blood. I’ve already failed a few greatly, and one the greatest. These things happened, seemingly, and time moves forward… allegedly.

There is a hum, although these damn generators are drowning it a bit. This hum is bright and soothing, with all the promise of a young politician. But this hum is no such thing. He intends to deliver upon all of his lies. It only makes sense, as he’s spent so much damn time working on them.

There is a point, I’ve seen, where you find the perfect bout of madness and chase it for every waking moment after first contact. It may be frightening and I doubt there is any kind of turning back but that was planned. Those vivid images are faded, although I would never admit that. It has become too far removed and only the idea of having remembered remains. To it, I’ve clung for dear life with the ground only a foot or two below. Nothing that could kill me, but I could fall and acquire a bruise. Still, these moods come and go and blah blah blah.

I sit at my desk now and look at a future wasteland that is burning and burning away as it tries to find itself after the breeze. Though there still be wonder and awe and all that, I feel the quite possibly insane urge to believe that this thing I play around in, may be in a very serious amount of danger. I feel as though the culmination of over consumption habits has brought us to some point that is dripping with the stench of fate. ‘Tis within the stench, that lies a decision.

That would all be fine, if we knew how to make the decision. If you’re going by the species as a whole, most don’t even know about any choices. we’ve removed ourselves from our gift of consciousness to feign industriousness. Thoughts, hopes, desires and the relentless independent spirit of man, these are all things that can’t be taken away. They are given away, willingly most of the time.

I do still firmly believe, that they can certainly be taken back. It is all in the vast capabilities of the mind. Capabilities that I don’t imagine any of us know too much about, myself least of all. It’s not motivation or determination or ambition. Those words have been destroyed by Confucius quote and pictures of eagles catching fish.

I speak to you now about passion. I indeed believe in intending to do all that such a soul can do. Forced along from childhood wanderings about my own mind and fueled by close encounters with grand disappointments. From the shambles, I will come forth, benevolent dictator of my own universe. Now to just convince the citizens.