Sunday Morning Thoughts 11.25.13

Pardon me for my grouchiness. Life has been hard at me for years now and my smoking habit has been making it as tough as possible to catch my breath. It’s not that I can’t, it’s just that these things take a while. History and hindsight recall nothing more than the big moments, but all those little ones in between happen just as much and rightfully deserve as much credit as the rest. Though I must ask, when was the last time that the right person received all of the right kind of credit?

But I’m not a man of the hypothetical, so the questions will be far and few between. I am, or once was and will be again, a man of action. And even Da Vinci himself was a procrastinator. The problem with those trying to explore this reality is that we can sometimes stare off into the nothingness with no regard for the time. Not to compare myself, but I seem to have done so anyway. Intelligence and ability varies in shape and form, after all. Focus is difficult when one wants to do so many things.IMG_1983

I don’t, but I could easily envy those with one track minds that go with their one track lives. I’m sure ignorance is bliss but I’ve never had the luxury of being so blissful. There is guilt in my awareness, as there is in all of us who pay attention here and there.

To absolve myself of such guilt can only be through means of making right what is wrong. So what, I believe this world is cruel and evil and doomed? The willingness to do nothing makes you just as evil. I’m not willing to do nothing, it just happens sometimes. And further, I cannot fix all these things by myself, nor is it my place to. I don’t know how to solve the energy crisis. I don’t know how to fix the global economic standard and heal those who suffer from it. I don’t know how to make this world better but I know of people and ideas who can. And perhaps that is my role, not to fix the issues but rather to help those have the means in fixing themselves.

But how dreadfully preachy all that sounds, right? And I must say, I am no big fan of those who seem to preach and preach alone. You don’t just sign up to gain knowledge, experience and some sort of prominent standing in life and even if you could, it would just be some scam. Like all of those African princes with email accounts and the level of comfort with strangers to ask for checks made out to cash. I feel bad for the African prince who is genuinely stuck in such a jam. Too many people crying wolf will make sure that well is never built in his small village.


Yet, like every good citizen, I will ignore the plight of others and dwell instead upon how I will pave my way towards success. In which, the main struggle I would seem to be at odds with, is that between my realties and my fantasies. Or the struggle in understanding why the two aren’t the same. Or at least not yet. Now mind you, I am no longer fool enough to believe that specifics will come to be as they were dreamt up. I am just old enough and just young enough to see clearly in both directions and upon each plain, I see the unpredictable nature to all that I am. Which makes sense to you, right?

Still, there are stars I can see from where I live but only because there is no moonlight to add to the light polluted air. Though, the sky really has much more light. This all evidence to my lie though, that this occurred on this Sunday morning as the stars were not out while I was awake then. They are out now, as it is almost Monday which means back to work and back to a life that would be deemed acceptable by the societal standards. For the layman, that means my life of work. For the right kind of philosopher it means my life and as the new kind of involuntary laborer. There are no whips outside of metaphors, though they are there just the same.

It is a temporary condition as everything in my life is. I don’t want immortality, not in the slightest. I only wish to earn a life worth being tired from and the peace that comes with doing all that I could have done.  There is a lot of time for me to do the things that I need to do and I have no doubt I will play my role to the best of my ability. If the past has any merit, I will surely make an impact in my future.

Not matter what, the rocks will watch me come and go. They won’t remember me, or at least probably won’t. Whether they have the capacity or not, it takes a lot of force to convince them of your existence.



Sunday Morning Thoughts: 11.10.13


As the prophecy foretold, I will keep on this path that I had almost abandoned.


That’s a scary thing to admit but it is quite true. I struggled for such a time with whether to further pursue this little thought experiment that was started over three years ago now. Time, that tricky devil, can fill the mind with such doubts in itself. Though it may really have more to do with man than time itself.


But how far it seems I have come and yet how far it is to go. The crushing weight of impermanence pressed down on I and all those I know and love. Mortality of our ideas and thoughts is just as real as that of the flesh. We squishy beings seem to all struggle to grasp an idea of meaning or identity. Whether it be carved from our own experiences or conditioned to be, maintaining true to those core mentalities get no relief from strain.



I claim weariness and build my pile of dissatisfaction to keep all out, or maybe just me in. I suppose we all do, but I really shouldn’t speak for anyone besides myself. Either way, this claim is weak and unjust and should not be tolerated. I’m tired of all my own excuses and crave to find new catchphrases. I fear being irrelevant too much to let my laziness continue.


At this point, it could be very easy to reflect upon all that had been and say something like, “golly, it’s been a hell of a trip” and pat myself on the back for how far I have come and curse that universe that fills my memory with regret, follies and foma. Even the beautiful catastrophes can no longer be used to prolong the present further into the future.


I thought earlier, that I might publically damn the future tense and the comfortable insecurity its use provides. To hell with saying that this or that ‘will’ be, or ‘can’ be or even more grotesquely, ‘should’ be. Damn the promises of the past and only believe in what ‘is’.


It was going to be a whole big ordeal to go into but I realize now that it would only perpetuate the problem. Complaints in the direction of the future are exclusively the product to the lazy irresponsibility of the present, which is something I’m only beginning to see now. I could blame it on the past but that would only be further creating issue.


In fact, the only parts of the past that are so grand are so simply because they were allowed to happen because of my lack of intention. They happened and captivated me further because they were things my then limited capacity for understanding was perplexed to the point of viciously infectious interest.



The truth is that all the past is a paradigm and whether it truly is right or wrong matters not. It is most likely neither. Each moment in these years I’ve lived have been different then the last and the beauty has remained the same. I just have more words and other actions in which to describe this beauty that I see.


Now I could go on a rant damning the glass put in between paintings and people in art museums, and all other things we put in place to separate ourselves from a aesthetically crafted depiction of a specific perspective. But I won’t. I could rant about destruction, pain and violence, and how greed is somehow, in some way, at the root of it all. But I won’t. I could analyze and condemn humanity as a whole for not being able to get it together long enough to make sure that everyone gets to eat dinner. I could, but I won’t.


For you must dig, my friend, that in order for this thought experiment of mine to survive, it most certainly must adapt. All living things have to and I consider this to be very much alive. The idea within itself is an adaptation. It was, and is, a benchmark for the constant progression towards the future. Sure, this may only seem like my ideas being spelt out but I can assure you that it’s much more. It is now yours as well.


Don’t believe me? Well you shouldn’t have read this much then. Whether you’re going to admit it or not, this voice is now in your head. My voice, my perspective is now part of yours, no matter how invalid you may want to believe it to be. Why you allowed such a thing to occur is your business. Again, this is a one way transmission for the most part. ‘Tis just I expressing outwardly to you, with your say having no effect on what has been done here. I would say now but realistically, my mind will be off into something else by the time you bring this back to life. It could be minutes, or hours, days, etc. but its immortality is brought about by you.


And I suppose that is the only way that you can live forever. It can certainly go much further than your biological lifeline, but it can only live as that idea. Be it as vague as a memory or as spelled out and specific as this bit right here, it is only that idea that lives. As each word is typed, so it dies in this world. In this reality, if that’s what you choose to call it.


So then question becomes, why? Though I suppose why is always the question, when you break it down bare enough. So we’ll dodge that bullet and ask why would someone want their ideas to have such permanence? Seems like a rather ego-maniacal behavior, no? Selfish at the very least and yet those whose ideas live never seem to come across that way. Usually, they emerge in brilliantly decorated modesty, despite what their importance may be.


Perhaps that is what this idea of truth is. When someone’s projected perspective is able to ignite something in the minds of all, or at least most, of the people who get experience whatever that might be. Art, science, literature, technology- the classification matters not. There still has to be made a division between that which is nourishing and that which is parasitic but that may be for another post.


For now, I check out. Only until next week though kids. We’re back on the air.



A False Requiem for my Youth and an Ode to Joanne

The hiatus ends now. It has to be like pulling off a bandage. I won’t go into all of the failed attempts up to now. I’ll just march forward, as I did the first time.

So dig.

The time has passed between the last update and what a long bit of time that has seemed to be. Then again, here is this moment and it only looks like a few short leaps away from where I started. Then again, I suppose that depends on your definition of leaps, and how far you’re willing to look back.

Jump a year back, you have one thing. Jump two, something else. Jump back three, holy shit. Four, what the fuck? Five? Ten? Fifteen? Though I suppose that is my limit, for now.


It’s strange how that works though. I used to think, and maybe you did too, that when I would be the age that I am now that all of my issues would be dissolved away and there I would sit, on my pinnacle of pride and success, gleaming down upon the life I have led. I always thought I would have everything all figured out. And I really banked on how cool I’d be.

From where it stands now, I would never claim that to be the case. Listen to the quake of my trembling knees as I stare down this slipping world, with the rope of promises tied around my waist. The dirt around my feet caves in as the weight grows and grows and my resistance seems more and more strained. Me, and my full time job, sinking to the bottom of this ocean called society. My dreams slipping like bubbles from my mouth as the mounting pressure collapses my skull.

They say drowning is a peaceful way to die. They would most likely be the kids I went to Junior High with. Hell of a lot they know. Who has ever had the chance to explain the sensation of drowning after the fact? After all, facts are hard. As is breathing underwater.

But I’m lying to you, or at least not telling the truth. For you see, my imagination as a lad could have never created the fantastic spectacle that has been my life. For all its ups, downs, lefts, diagonals and loops were, and are all, I have. I’m a creature of linear time, and I feast on beginnings and endings, despite pretty much everything in existence lying in the space between those two. Where tomorrow goes is such a mystery to me that I’d never dare admit how terrified I am of it. Other than now, on the internet.

Speaking of which, good job Earth. That’s all you’ll get but the partially Anonymous and Occupy organized ‘Million Mask March’ has shown up in news sites that even the sheep of society would deem credible. And, as far as I’ve heard, not many were arrested and none were killed in all of these gatherings across all hemispheres. What this may end up meaning in the scale of things is yet to be seen, but I can easily say that it could have gone much worse.

Still, this world of ours is at the same level, if not sloping upwards, in its usual catastrophe. A New Jersey mall had a young man who scared a whole bunch of people before making a much more public suicide than he would have managed otherwise, while Net Neutrality flushes down the drain. The pleas of the Pakistani whose lives have been decimated by the flying, killer robots of America went virtually unheard. Five members of Congress were present in the place taxes pay them to work, according to one article. In my quick search, I couldn’t find one that listed any more of them.


But this is all business that you already know, right? You, that well informed and important member of this society, you already heard about all of these things and are taking the steps necessary to fix it, right? Right? RIGHT?

Of course you’re not. Or at the very least you’re like me, and are not doing nearly as much as I could and a vast amount less than what I need to do. I may know better than most. I’m still talking much larger than I’ve been able to walk.

And so ceases my whimpers for this episode. It’s viciously selfish that I’ve done this much already. There are those who deal with more hardship that I can even begin to comprehend. I know a few of those people, and I love them dearly. I only hope that I can have the strength and perseverance that they’ve had facing such traumatic occurrences.

Which brings me to the true point of all of this.

A promise. It’s a promise I made to someone the last time I saw them, though at the time I thought I’d be seeing them again. ‘Twas that glorious woman who was one of the first fans of these ramblings that I choose to share with the world. She always told me that I had a gift and I would always thank her politely while never believing the talent she had seen in me. In a stern tone that I am glad she had been able to take with me, told me to never stop writing. I promised her that I never would.

She’s gone from this place now and despite my disbelief in afterlives, I hope she has found the peace and company that she truly deserves. But as for me, still stuck in this life, my work is only beginning and now it holds an extra bit of importance. Though she may never see the results, the last strand of my moral integrity cannot allow me to let her hope be for naught. She trusted me with this and if there is any hope left for my raggedy old soul, I cannot let her down.

So this is my promise to you, where ever it is you are now, even if that is nowhere: I will keep writing. I will force all of this thought, in both goodness and darkness, from my mind and soul in the elegance that I have already invested countless hours into refining. I will share these words with the world, in the hope that it will allow some grand and larger beauty to grow from the ashes of loss and tragedy.

It is the least I can do, for all that you had done for me and the vast amount more you’d done for my closest friend, to whom I owe my entire world. I promise I’ll keep writing. And I hope we can meet again someday, but if not, I will always keep your memory inside my mind.


Sunday Morning Thoughts 6.2.13

The largest part of this self made struggle is the mystery of it. Simply put, there is something that I’m striving to understand and I haven’t a clue to its identity. There is dissonance in my soul that infuriates my mind to exhaustion. Perhaps it’s suffocation of surroundings or the lack of symbolism in my coming of age. It could be a desire to create further value or devalue something that already is place as important. The mystery consumes me in my purgatory. I sit and wait. Any word from Godot?

There’s another growing revolution in the world. Aside from on the web, you won’t hear much about it. As goes with mass protests, people are getting hurt. Some are dying but how many is still a mystery. I don’t like to think too negatively but I do, so I’d imagine that these numbers will rise before anything gets better.

Who knows if it ever will? Egypt has fallen to near ruin, or so certain several dozen different images on the computer say. It does make sense, as chaos and paranoia usually reign after not too long when religion leads, especially all those ones that stem from that myth of that Abraham fellow. High walls protect the rulers though, so at least they’ve got coverage.

But why talk about such things? Is that all there really is? Or is there more but it can’t be seen from here? Will there ever be an end to my vague questioning?


Why yes, there will be. And here it is.

The issues at play in this world today are all very traceable. When the world was larger and we were smaller, harsh actions would have vast consequences but the capabilities were limited. Our technology was limited and as such a violent species with limited physical attributes for it, we need technology to kill. We have dull teeth and no claws. We are not particularly fast or agile, especially in the developed world where most are fat, some disgustingly and disgracefully so. We don’t have camouflage or any means of protection. Just thumbs.

So upon arguments of gods, or land, rivers and other means of property aggression towards each other spread. With thumbs, we made ways to get better at all things we did. Since we did so much killing, we got better at that as well.

The catch, because there is one, is this. If someone were to kill someone you knew and loved, what impulse would you feel? See that, right there, is what makes it spread. If someone strikes down one of yours, in whatever sense that means, you will wish vengeance.


The vengeance you will bring is experienced from other perspectives just as biased as yours. The problem is these perspective will most likely now oppose yours and the same feelings will be felt and a similar vengeance sought.


It’s easy, if you’re not an idiot, to see how this can grow. And with greater and easier means of destruction so prominent in society, you could see how we got here. There were levels developed and perspectives grew into larger groups with different means and the same goals. These are, for the most part, your nations, religions, races, economies, militaries and the sort. All these are just means of classifying and organizing each other. The criteria differ and of course, some are voluntary and others less so. All of these things have one quality in common though. They all only matter as much as you think they do.

Despite what we all think, in the true full scheme of existence, none of this matters. Well, that’s harsh. These things, and by that I mean everything, in our lives only matter as much as we want them to. That goes for large scale beliefs. Near everything that mankind believes in, wasn’t in place at one point. Further, before any of those things became important, they started out as very small ideas. They grew and spread, and almost always become perverted along the way, but they came to be.

So how do we make life, which for some many is needlessly tiresome and tragic, into something better?



Just start believing that it is. Convince yourself to live by ideas that are kinder and grander with none of that dirty nonsense. Kindness will spread but not if the minds of the world don’t embrace it. Don’t fret about how. Thumbs had gotten us to points of mass destruction, we just have to change course. It doesn’t even take thumbs to flip a switch.

Or you can go on believing that things are bad and will always get worse. Or you can blame the dystopian state of the world on whatever group from who gives a damn. Surely blowing whoever you think your enemy is out of existence will work out. Right?

Sunday Morning Thoughts 5.26.13: Enter- ADULTHOOD

A week and a bit into this dreaded thing called post-grad unemployment and to be honest, it’s not been that bad. Though, to further dive into honesty, I’ve been living stressed and strained for some time and I’ve finally tasted the wonderful oblivion that is nothingness. Regarding required activities, of course. This mind has been bouncing furiously since the beginning and it has had no bit of relief.

I spoke last time, rather briefly, about the idea of abandoning this little quasi-weekly blog post. It was a quite serious consideration for me. It gave me conflict and struggle and the sort. Yet, quite triumphantly, I have returned! (most likely due to a lack of good judgment).

So why we are here is, as always, not important. However I firmly believe that what we may do here could be of, or could lead to, some great importance. No need to remind me of the foolishness of such thought, I am quite aware.

So in this adult life of mine, I must begin to wonder adult things and the sort…



Maybe I don’t really have to wonder about them at all. I imagine that I will have to perform many menial and tragic tasks before I have reached the point and place in life that I seek, whatever that may be. That does not mean that any wonder has to be wasted on it. If there is one thing that I’ve seen bring grief to those I know, it would be all those vaguely out of control standards in life. Even if the necessities are met, there is struggle to get there.

In the life that I could consider myself to be aware of the actions of the larger world around me, things have gotten worse. Disregarding the idea of politics and anything closely defined to that, the lives that people in general live are not grand. The truly sad part of it, is that I only know because now it is hitting what would be called my class now. There are people all over the world who have suffered tremendously worse than I ever have, for immensely longer.

The difference is, sadly, that I am more qualified to speak about such things because of my ability to get an education. Don’t get me wrong here, I am no genius prophet.


I know a lot more than most people my age do in many, many parts of the world.

So without diving further into such talk, even the anchors spewing stories on television news agree that things are not good. They vary on what reasons and all end up missing the point to make sure that enough depression prescriptions are sold to meet the demands of advertisers. Don’t worry, they meet the quota. I mean, have you heard the news? Geez… I mean, why leave the house? There is a threat about something, all the damn time and you, as a poor simple ape descendent, can do squat to do anything about it. Huxley, you devil, you got out when you could. I have a frightful feeling that things are going to be much more drearily dreadful than you have thought, even after revisiting.



There is something that can be done about this, I think. I believe rather, again as a fool, that there needs to be something done about all this and it has to be done by at least one of us.

Actually, piss on that. It has to be done by so much more than that. All of us really, though the roles played will vary. Or so I imagine. That’s the wonder of all this. You get to take a very small glimpse into the imagination of this writer that I refer to as myself. There is much more funny business going on in the old noggin, but there are only so many hours.

But in these hours that I’ve managed to drag myself from tedious work meaning to be mindless, I must make an attempt, or attempts in various boldness, to bring forth these ideas to the manner in which they need to be delivered. Bear with me. Or don’t. If you don’t I won’t blame you. I need the honest reaction, no matter the harshness. How will I know, if I am covered in kind lies for sympathetic onlookers? I also need to talk to strangers. That’s right, you heard me. Creepy because I used the word strangers? Good, I want you to conquer your word fear. All of you.

You see, if I were to begin (Finally) to boil this down into a thesis, it would have to do with my certified area of expertise. Communication. You see, no one on this god forsaken rock can communicate with the rest of the lot without some sort of problem happening. Not saying that we all fight with each other (though it is pretty damn close) but all of us seem to fight, or bicker, or resent someone else. And because of this, there are gaping holes shredding through the human species that exist only because the right steps haven’t been taken to get past them. These steps need be taken as a group you see, so when we can’t get together and figure out our rather tiny issues, the progress halts.

I dare say that we are at a point of halted progress. And whether you think it has been going on for awhile or just began, it can be agreed upon that it is not what we would consider good. We behave in medieval manner in situations that require much more sophisticated measures.


But you already knew that.

So I’ve wasted the space to talk about the know. I will not let this go to waste. I have a task for you, yes you, the poor innocent soul who made one too many wrong clicks and found yourself here. You need to take a serious look at your life. Don’t even do it for me, though I’m sure that you want to. Do it for yourself damn it! Look at your life, and once you find those sh&%y parts that you want to look away from, stop. Before you turn your eyes, stare it in its terrifying face and hold the gaze deep. Find what it is that cause your strife and devise a way to clear it.

Don’t tell anyone, just do it. And don’t get any smart ideas, what you do, if done right, will help others. If it doesn’t, you’ve done it wrong. Do that and meet me here next week.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 5.19.13: 16 Years of Schooling While Waiting for the Day Shift

It’s been awhile. There was a problem for about two months and by this point probably more, about how to start such a thing as this. And as time passed is became more and more difficult to figure how to start this thought experiment up again. I pondered with apologies and explanations but that is all a load of s%&t. And if I may be frank, I’m quite tired of all the s%&t.

What we will do tonight (ignore the title of this being in the morning as I am a notorious liar) is explore ideas. At least I’ll explore ideas that live within my head and you will either have the pleasure or displeasure of reading them. That is up to you. This part that is to follow is up to me. If you don’t like it, tell me. If you don’t want to tell me, kiss my ass. If you don’t want to kiss my ass, then f&@k off. If you don’t want to f&@k off, then I don’t know what to do for you.


But ideas. Yes! What a grand proposition indeed. I suppose we’ll start with my ideas and we will almost definitely end in the same place. So we exist… or rather, I exist. I really can’t confirm that you do but I am nearly half certain that I do. And in this existence of mine, I have sat around and stood up and paced about, thinking all the damn time about whether what I have come up with will be considered to be nothing by those who come after me. And in a way, I suppose that is my gift to them. The wonder of writing something that took thought is that someone someday will try and prove me wrong. I hope they do.

So back to the point of existence and all the quandaries that come with it. Through half witted observation, the narrator of what you now read has come to realize, in a wonderfully naive way, that this life is clay meant for sculpting. You may not believe it and I may not even believe it myself, but as far as I’ve seen, this world is moldable. At least for some of us. And within this mold we can perceive and shape what we would like our destines to be. This may only be an illusion or it may only be something that a small portion of the species may come to know, but I will argue it as though it were a truth. If it helps you to understand better, make me into a religious leader in your mind. It works because as with most religious leaders, I see the whole thing as a hogwash scam.

The problem may have been that I have thought, all this time, that I am much wiser than I actually am. But to make that a bad thing would imply that wisdom is a good thing. So allow me to refute that idea right now. Wisdom is a point of view forged over layers of patterned experience. Wisdom is really much more like a heavily reinforced ignorance. Those who would be deemed wise often can’t see beyond their own wisdom. As I cannot see beyond my own, or if I do, I’m most certainly missing many of the important bits. So for the purpose of this exercise, let’s toss the idea of wisdom out of the window. Not before I snatch out the important parts that are associated with the idea of wisdom.


A truly wise man will always tell you that he knows nothing, just the same as a wise woman telling you she knows just as little. And through all of these 16 years of schooling, I have come to believe that I may hold at least the potential for wisdom. The truth, if there is such a horrible thing as the truth, is that we are at our most wise when we first fall from our mother’s twat, screaming and scavenging the world for understanding. When know nothing but the constant search for the feeling of warmth, is when we understand our existence the best. You see, despite all that we (or at least I) like to believe that we know, we really know nothing outside our own existence. We are just barely as a species coming to realize that maybe we are not the greatest creation of the universe. We in very small numbers are starting to see that our god is a c&*t because we created him. In the Christian faith, we are made in the image of god. When really, god is only in our image because it is personification of nature and in order to personify someone, you have to make them a person.

But I grow weary on such discussion, and as narrator, I have the power to change it. And as a selfish being, I will turn the topic over to myself. I’ll keep it vague though, so you can apply any of this that you’d like to yourself.

I still, and perhaps quite foolishly, believe that I am meant to do something in this world that I live that will take it from the horrendous condition it’s in and bring it to at least a slightly better standing. It may just be that the belief of being able to do something is enough to be able to do it. Or maybe, because I am still quite young, that I have been lucky and sooner or later life (as the kids call it) will beat me to pulp. Afterwards, I will be left blank and battered, staring out towards stars that may not even be anymore and find that none of the questions I have brewed have any kind of  answer, nor will they ever. Maybe the questions themselves are the fabrication. Maybe we are the fabrication. Perhaps I myself may be a total figment of the imagination of some other being that goes by some other name just waiting to wake and join the world that is consistent enough to be deemed real.

I suppose that when I break it all down, that if this is a fantasy, it is mine. And I shall do with it what I want. I will also, if the power exists inside me, strive to let others be as free as I hope someday to be. Either way, I know nothing and if there will ever be a point that I know anything, it will be the last thought that I ever have. I don’t know when that will be and hopefully you don’t either but more than anything else, you can trust that this ride will come to an end. It could be violent, or it could be peaceful. It could be smooth and effortless, or it could be painful and heartbreaking.


Regardless, this won’t be the last that you hear from me. The very least I could do, is to give you something to refuse to protect yourself. So if you see the need, refuse both my word and I. If you’d like to hold on to them, give them whatever value you see as fit. Either way, I’ll never know.

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.