Thursday, April 06, 2006
“We gotta come to some new ideas about life folks ok? I'm not being blase about abortion, it might be a real issue, it might not, doesn't matter to me. What matters is that if you believe in the sanctity of life then you believe it for life of all ages. That's what I hate about this child-worship syndrome going on. "Save the children! They're killing children! How many children were at Waco? They're killing children!" What does that mean? They reach a certain age and they're off your fucking love-list? Fuck your children, if that's the way you think then fuck you too. You either love all people of all ages or you shut the fuck up.” -Bill Hicks
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
So it's been a while since I've had a chance to sit and write in my blog. I guess you all want to know what's up... or not, I don't know if anyone really reads this anymore.
Okay, we'll start off light, I suppose. Well, there is no "light" going on with me. So we'll start with "better than it could be." Mathew and I have made amends and we are friends now. I'm coming to realize that I still love him but I know that I can't go back to him, and he knows it too, so we're happy just being friends. Besides, Rocky is my heart. I've decided to let go of all the hatred in my heart and step one was forgiving Mathew.
Speaking of Rocky, things are well between us. I am absolutely certain now that he loves me and that's all I need. I finally worked up the balls to tell him that I loved him. His response? "I know you do, dear." But, whatever, I'm certain of his love and that's all that matters. I see it in his eyes and hear it when he talks to me. I'm trying to get back up there soon. I miss him very dearly. But in September, it will be a little better, I hope.
I plan to move to New York in September, October at the latest. I'll be in the Syracuse area or thereabouts. I need a few things first, like a car and a better-paying job. But I have to wait until May to be a better government job. So that gives me four or five months to save up enough money for a down payment on a car. I want to be closer to Rocky, and also somewhere that I don't know anybody so it'll be easier to focus on school.
That's another thing, I've decided to go back to school and be a psychology major. I had an epiphany after shrooming one night that maybe my life's mission is to make people human again. What better way to go about it besides being a therapist?
Regarding my health, my discs are degenerating, which would be normal were I twice my age, but I'm not. The numbness has spread to the nearly entirety of my left side. It's a pain in the ass... or back, to be more precise. I found really weird lumps in my neck, I dunno what the hell they're from, but I really don't care much. I'm just tired of it all, I guess. I think it's just time to go home...
Okay, we'll start off light, I suppose. Well, there is no "light" going on with me. So we'll start with "better than it could be." Mathew and I have made amends and we are friends now. I'm coming to realize that I still love him but I know that I can't go back to him, and he knows it too, so we're happy just being friends. Besides, Rocky is my heart. I've decided to let go of all the hatred in my heart and step one was forgiving Mathew.
Speaking of Rocky, things are well between us. I am absolutely certain now that he loves me and that's all I need. I finally worked up the balls to tell him that I loved him. His response? "I know you do, dear." But, whatever, I'm certain of his love and that's all that matters. I see it in his eyes and hear it when he talks to me. I'm trying to get back up there soon. I miss him very dearly. But in September, it will be a little better, I hope.
I plan to move to New York in September, October at the latest. I'll be in the Syracuse area or thereabouts. I need a few things first, like a car and a better-paying job. But I have to wait until May to be a better government job. So that gives me four or five months to save up enough money for a down payment on a car. I want to be closer to Rocky, and also somewhere that I don't know anybody so it'll be easier to focus on school.
That's another thing, I've decided to go back to school and be a psychology major. I had an epiphany after shrooming one night that maybe my life's mission is to make people human again. What better way to go about it besides being a therapist?
Regarding my health, my discs are degenerating, which would be normal were I twice my age, but I'm not. The numbness has spread to the nearly entirety of my left side. It's a pain in the ass... or back, to be more precise. I found really weird lumps in my neck, I dunno what the hell they're from, but I really don't care much. I'm just tired of it all, I guess. I think it's just time to go home...
Monday, March 20, 2006
Having shed my erstwhile alacrity, I am adrift once again in ersatz satisfaction. My weightlessness, my lack of gravity in this existence is all but unnoticed admist the gust of a spring wind that blows winter away for another year. I close my eyes to avoid the dust colliding with them and I dream with tentative reverence. Unity and alliance collide in a graceful pulchritude. There is no crime; there are no weapons— they were melted down and used for shelter for vagabonds and all the money used to make them goes to feeding the hungry and curing the ill.
A sudden zephyr shakes me from my reverie— a warning that time for rest is near its end. As the Axis of my vindicated stability lies austere mediocrity, disquieted in its obstreperous lull. Can I shine despite obduration's tarnish? If I'm reborn now, will they see me from the surface?
Violated in trust, under the Prince of democracy's thumb, overwhelmed with ignorance and denial— where are the quixotic and the brazen? We need a new leader that can pull us out of the chasms we fell into— globally and nationally. We're puppets on a string, the media our puppeteers and they the dummies atop the government's lap with its hand up their asses.
I get raped, he gets 5 years probation and now wants off of it. Now what about my sentence? Living in fear, guilt and shame— a life sentence, no chance of parole. Stand up for what you did and be a man about it! They're going to let him go; I can feel it.
Such is the power of it all— government manipulation— never on the victim's side. America is Pangea's bully. Stand up for what you believe in, but within moderation. Everything within moderation. To be limitless would be to be nearly anarchaic.
Two more years and perhaps it will be done. Two more years until the Boy King's reign is over. Thank you, FDR, for being the cause of the two term limit. Revolt and evolve— or sit on your asses. I don't care anymore... but it's time for a change.
A sudden zephyr shakes me from my reverie— a warning that time for rest is near its end. As the Axis of my vindicated stability lies austere mediocrity, disquieted in its obstreperous lull. Can I shine despite obduration's tarnish? If I'm reborn now, will they see me from the surface?
Violated in trust, under the Prince of democracy's thumb, overwhelmed with ignorance and denial— where are the quixotic and the brazen? We need a new leader that can pull us out of the chasms we fell into— globally and nationally. We're puppets on a string, the media our puppeteers and they the dummies atop the government's lap with its hand up their asses.
I get raped, he gets 5 years probation and now wants off of it. Now what about my sentence? Living in fear, guilt and shame— a life sentence, no chance of parole. Stand up for what you did and be a man about it! They're going to let him go; I can feel it.
Such is the power of it all— government manipulation— never on the victim's side. America is Pangea's bully. Stand up for what you believe in, but within moderation. Everything within moderation. To be limitless would be to be nearly anarchaic.
Two more years and perhaps it will be done. Two more years until the Boy King's reign is over. Thank you, FDR, for being the cause of the two term limit. Revolt and evolve— or sit on your asses. I don't care anymore... but it's time for a change.
"Nearly all men can withstand adversity; if you want to test a man's character, give him power."
-Abraham Lincoln
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Click tha Spinn'n Rim Beotch!
www.myYearbizzle-- Created by 2 hizzy schoo` students ta kick myspace's ass |
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Recently, I’ve come to a peculiar crossroad in my path towards maturity that I’m not entirely sure how to cope with. “Emotional, spiritual, and intellectual evolution” is actually the term that I fondly refer to it as. Since shedding the burden of having a significant other and the complications of frequent physical love (the latter not so much a burden, the lack of it being more the parent of a more inward evolution that was borne to fill this void), I’ve found myself delving very deeply into my own mind and the minds of others. I often sit and read, thinking, postulating, and in my own private way, praying.
I’ve come not only to worship the ethereal God of man, but the more secular, personal god of Knowledge. I seek understanding of the world, no longer blindly entrusting my fate to an unseen (yet, to me, somehow undeniably ubiquitous) deity. I cannot, I realized on my short walk down this path, that I cannot truly, sincerely call myself a Christian. I say that, I now know, to simplify my belief structure to those I feel would not understand otherwise. I find far too many holes in their doctrines—Jesus being the Son of God, yet entirely mortal, but somehow capable of otherworldly miracles, as a deity? I find it hard to not, as a literary and budding science fanatic, to read the Bible and take apart these miracles and try to place them into a logical explanation; I try to see the allegoric aspects and interpret the metaphors. Try as I might, I may very possibly just not be adequately adept at translating poetry quite yet to do so. Christians find refuge in these mysteries and I can respect that, but these holes are far too wide for me.
I cannot deny that there does, in fact, exist a divine power that presides over us all, because there is much that science cannot explain. For example, the origin of all life on this planet—Evolution seems the most probable, but it is hard to accept that this just randomly happened without some provocation from somewhere. The Big Bang, a decently reasonable theory could explain where the Earth came from, but where did the Big Bang originate? But I cannot worship a man that walked the land, the same as I—mortal, flesh and blood—for something inexplicable inside of me feels that this would be almost untrue to the God in my heart.
This is not to say that Jesus did not exist, nor that he was unwise—I believe that he was a truly sagacious individual—a radical thinker, a revolutionary and a rebel in his own right—that taught deeply profound tenets. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Honor your family. Love your God. These dogmas are so powerful, so moving, that religions all over the world agree with them. But I quarrel with the idea that he died to relieve me of my sins, presumably Original Sin, when even today, we still have to be baptized to cleanse us of that very same burden.
No, I worship a totally different trinity. I worship knowledge, love, and honor. These three “gods” all intertwine almost perfectly. Knowledge can lead to love, and this love can include anything or anyone—a god, family, friends, lover, et al.—and with this love, in my eyes, honor must come holding its hand, else the love is just pretense.
I’ve come not only to worship the ethereal God of man, but the more secular, personal god of Knowledge. I seek understanding of the world, no longer blindly entrusting my fate to an unseen (yet, to me, somehow undeniably ubiquitous) deity. I cannot, I realized on my short walk down this path, that I cannot truly, sincerely call myself a Christian. I say that, I now know, to simplify my belief structure to those I feel would not understand otherwise. I find far too many holes in their doctrines—Jesus being the Son of God, yet entirely mortal, but somehow capable of otherworldly miracles, as a deity? I find it hard to not, as a literary and budding science fanatic, to read the Bible and take apart these miracles and try to place them into a logical explanation; I try to see the allegoric aspects and interpret the metaphors. Try as I might, I may very possibly just not be adequately adept at translating poetry quite yet to do so. Christians find refuge in these mysteries and I can respect that, but these holes are far too wide for me.
I cannot deny that there does, in fact, exist a divine power that presides over us all, because there is much that science cannot explain. For example, the origin of all life on this planet—Evolution seems the most probable, but it is hard to accept that this just randomly happened without some provocation from somewhere. The Big Bang, a decently reasonable theory could explain where the Earth came from, but where did the Big Bang originate? But I cannot worship a man that walked the land, the same as I—mortal, flesh and blood—for something inexplicable inside of me feels that this would be almost untrue to the God in my heart.
This is not to say that Jesus did not exist, nor that he was unwise—I believe that he was a truly sagacious individual—a radical thinker, a revolutionary and a rebel in his own right—that taught deeply profound tenets. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Honor your family. Love your God. These dogmas are so powerful, so moving, that religions all over the world agree with them. But I quarrel with the idea that he died to relieve me of my sins, presumably Original Sin, when even today, we still have to be baptized to cleanse us of that very same burden.
No, I worship a totally different trinity. I worship knowledge, love, and honor. These three “gods” all intertwine almost perfectly. Knowledge can lead to love, and this love can include anything or anyone—a god, family, friends, lover, et al.—and with this love, in my eyes, honor must come holding its hand, else the love is just pretense.
I fear I haven’t explained effectively.
I have an insatiable thirst for erudition. I pour over pages at a time, for hours at a time, soaking up as much as possible. Absorbing all this information has naturally provided segue for understanding. What I realize now, is that even since childhood, the term I’ve always craved to be referred to as “wise.” So I consumed knowledge day and night, as much as I conceivably could before my body gave way to fatigue. Learning became my sustenance. But I did this for a very different reason as a child, I know, I did it out of pure vanity and obscure arrogance. That has changed. I now pray at night to repent for such a sin— for the selfishness behind it all. But now, I learn to love, and love to learn. I try to understand as much as I can about other things, people and places, because if I know about it, then somewhere in all of that, there is something that I can relate to. If I can possibly relate to it, then I can love it, because what I’m relating to is a part of me and I’m an admittedly very selfish person—just like the rest of the world.
I have an insatiable thirst for erudition. I pour over pages at a time, for hours at a time, soaking up as much as possible. Absorbing all this information has naturally provided segue for understanding. What I realize now, is that even since childhood, the term I’ve always craved to be referred to as “wise.” So I consumed knowledge day and night, as much as I conceivably could before my body gave way to fatigue. Learning became my sustenance. But I did this for a very different reason as a child, I know, I did it out of pure vanity and obscure arrogance. That has changed. I now pray at night to repent for such a sin— for the selfishness behind it all. But now, I learn to love, and love to learn. I try to understand as much as I can about other things, people and places, because if I know about it, then somewhere in all of that, there is something that I can relate to. If I can possibly relate to it, then I can love it, because what I’m relating to is a part of me and I’m an admittedly very selfish person—just like the rest of the world.
Never close your mind to the ideals of another person, even if you don’t like what you are hearing. This person is sharing with you something that he believes, a small part of who he is, something that he loves. By this person showing you this, he has shown you that in a way, he loves you as well. To respond to this love with scorn without asking the necessary questions to ensure your total comprehension is inhuman and cruel.
But this love cannot stand alone. It needs its eternal companion, honor. Honor is a broad term for many things—courage for your object of affection when they are experiencing any sort of travail, shunning any lie, even loyalty to this person when he is alone… I could go on describing my idea of honor, but I fear I’ve been long-winded enough thus far. To forego this trait would be to compromise the authenticity of your feelings towards this person, because the purest of love holds nothing sacred, except the love itself.
I wish many more people could see this as I do, but then again, my fervor and zeal for education is as much as vice as it is a blessing.
Ignorance is not as much bliss as knowledge is misery.
I know, thus, understand, and therefore empathize. I can understand what a person feels, and somewhere inside of me, if this person feels it feverishly enough, I can feel it too. It burns at me like a fire—but this fire was a gift deigned upon us by Prometheus, according to lore, a gift we were never supposed to have. So I am grateful to the Divine that I can feel this pain, as I was never really supposed to understand. I can acknowledge that I am not some pawn in an idol’s perverted chess game, but my own sentient being, struggling to connect to holiness through my mortal ilk and their own perceptions.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Tired of ire, tired of shame, tired of patience, tired of limitations, no longer will I feel sorry for myself. Angry with the world— encumbered with frustration and the "sacrifice and compromise" lifestyle because immaturity and indolence are no longer options. Never good enough for family, thus self. Throttled in a dull and banal existence— frugality, modesty, shrewd emotional and financial budgeting— no spending or loving too much ("Everything in moderation, dear"). Let it all go and start fresh— an adult now, time to sit down, shut up and conform.
Passion is not accepted in American society. Must understand logic, rationality and reason, because that's what's responsible. "Responsible," a word that was drilled into my head since my conception, plagues me; am I ever responsible enough? Get a job, go to school; "We never want to you to just barely eke out a meager income for the rest of your life."
Corporations and capitalistic thinking have both severely skewed the priorities of modern human nature into near detriment. We value money, power, and fame— our holy American trinity. Whatever happened to love, honor, dignity, respect, pride, and beauty in the now almost unseen wonders of nature? What happened to family and self-worth? Today, we're so wrapped up in narcism and media-induced paranoia that we forgot who we are and what that means. We collectively spend millions on of dollars on therapy, seeking out diagnoses so that we have a scapegoat to blame our problems on and pills so that we don't have to deal with them! Stop worrying about fiscal gain and start worrying about having the emotional wherewithal to sustain a life of inevitable travail. It's a boon that people are at all able to project a single iota of conviction or fervor anymore!
To be an artist here is to embrace inherent struggle. We're free to speak, but are we free to express? Why must we suppress and painstakingly monitor our hearts and minds? I realize to that to expect a little empathy and perhaps some right-brained intellectualism is unrealistic and maybe even foolish, but I'm a dreamer! What kind of trite world would we live in without those of my particular ilk?
However, to be fairly playing devil's advocate, without the rationally military-minded, anarchy and discord would reign. A society cannot run efficiently without some sort of order to it; freedom is never without cost. Fortunately, there are the minds that unite art and science, and without them, modern technology and medicine wouldn't be half as advanced as it is today. But those two fields will indefinitely lead back to money, and money corrupts.
Our national definition of success is having the house, the car, the clothes, and the looks, and while all are well and good, do we truly appreciate it all? Do we realize what we, as a general populace, have that others don't? What would happen if we lost it all tomorrow? Would we know what to do?
Once we finally come into money, we lose our honor. We'll fight tooth and nail to hold on to it all, shamelessly slighting the repercussions and disregarding those that they affect. But if it weren't money, it'd be land, or livestock, or who knows what else? Because human nature is naturally inclined to a quid-pro-quo mentality.
So what can a quietly angry artist do in such a world to thrive? Pine for a future that will actually embrace its humanity? Amble about until this revenue-revering retinue retires? Linger around for an era that will never come to pass? No. Sit down, shut up, and conform.
Passion is not accepted in American society. Must understand logic, rationality and reason, because that's what's responsible. "Responsible," a word that was drilled into my head since my conception, plagues me; am I ever responsible enough? Get a job, go to school; "We never want to you to just barely eke out a meager income for the rest of your life."
Corporations and capitalistic thinking have both severely skewed the priorities of modern human nature into near detriment. We value money, power, and fame— our holy American trinity. Whatever happened to love, honor, dignity, respect, pride, and beauty in the now almost unseen wonders of nature? What happened to family and self-worth? Today, we're so wrapped up in narcism and media-induced paranoia that we forgot who we are and what that means. We collectively spend millions on of dollars on therapy, seeking out diagnoses so that we have a scapegoat to blame our problems on and pills so that we don't have to deal with them! Stop worrying about fiscal gain and start worrying about having the emotional wherewithal to sustain a life of inevitable travail. It's a boon that people are at all able to project a single iota of conviction or fervor anymore!
To be an artist here is to embrace inherent struggle. We're free to speak, but are we free to express? Why must we suppress and painstakingly monitor our hearts and minds? I realize to that to expect a little empathy and perhaps some right-brained intellectualism is unrealistic and maybe even foolish, but I'm a dreamer! What kind of trite world would we live in without those of my particular ilk?
However, to be fairly playing devil's advocate, without the rationally military-minded, anarchy and discord would reign. A society cannot run efficiently without some sort of order to it; freedom is never without cost. Fortunately, there are the minds that unite art and science, and without them, modern technology and medicine wouldn't be half as advanced as it is today. But those two fields will indefinitely lead back to money, and money corrupts.
Our national definition of success is having the house, the car, the clothes, and the looks, and while all are well and good, do we truly appreciate it all? Do we realize what we, as a general populace, have that others don't? What would happen if we lost it all tomorrow? Would we know what to do?
Once we finally come into money, we lose our honor. We'll fight tooth and nail to hold on to it all, shamelessly slighting the repercussions and disregarding those that they affect. But if it weren't money, it'd be land, or livestock, or who knows what else? Because human nature is naturally inclined to a quid-pro-quo mentality.
So what can a quietly angry artist do in such a world to thrive? Pine for a future that will actually embrace its humanity? Amble about until this revenue-revering retinue retires? Linger around for an era that will never come to pass? No. Sit down, shut up, and conform.
Monday, December 19, 2005
George Bush has started an ill-timed and disastrous war under false pretenses by lying to the American people and to the Congress; he has run a budget surplus into a severe deficit; he has consistently and unconscionably favored the wealthy and corporations over the rights and needs of the population; he has destroyed trust and confidence in, and good will toward, the United States around the globe. He has ignored global warming, to the world's detriment; he has wantonly broken our treaty obligations; he has condoned torture of prisoners; he has attempted to create a theocracy in the United States; he has appointed cronies to positions of vital national importance.Would someone please give him a blow job so we can impeach him?
Thanks to Benjamin for finding it. :)
Thanks to Benjamin for finding it. :)

