5 years I've had this "blog". I hate that word. This, I would refer to as the physical representation of me on the cybersphere. It's not some extension, it's literally, me, on the web. I love this damn "blog". I love how it's like my little apartment online and everything I put up here I put bam into the publicsphere and it's very freeing. I feel like I am putting forth the subatomic energy within my soul out into visible force fields of thought back into the universe from where it first came from anyway. I am a monkey and this is where I throw my feces. Even if nobody ever reads this thing, I feel it's my link to the powerful minds which will come after my death and after this current century, far far down the road, and they will see: AH HAH!! someone DID know what was up. yes. this is my historical mark, on the interface of web time, that somehow I think will be my epitaph post-humously. I love, adore, this space of mine. I think I will be posting more frequently henceforth.
Tea is so magnificent. With or without sugar and milk. It soothes the crinks in your soul. Writing. Describing the undefinable. Is that really a craft? It seems rude. Life doesn't ask to be described. Yet man never stops his struggle to define it.
Sometimes I feel a surreal sort of guilt whenever I explode "creatively". What a silly concept. creativity. when I'm in it...whatever I'm working on is the most important urgent mission in the history of mankind. When I'm finished, I am disgusted at whatever it is I've just created. A bunch of words/paint/musical notes on a piece of paper? It's ridiculous. In that second, my usual contempt for modern man's society and the corporate machine seems to make a hell of a lot more sense and use than my paintbrush.
and then....this happens>
There is a silence overtaking me. I gladly let myself be nulled out to it. This silence only comes after extreme activity. After my senses and body have been so traumatized that all there is left to do is rest. Running does this. Creative spurts of productivity do this. Fucking does this. Strenuous actions which pound my body into submission by forcing it against other forces, have the surprising effect of calming it down. This aggression, the violence, the more violent it is the deeper peace I find afterwards. Fighting has the same effect. I find actually that when I avoid stress, when I avoid the torment of the grind, I am restless and uneasy. Thoughts are convoluted and my mind is weak, my body drained of energy. Even my face changes. It becomes rugged, etched. After a good fuck, one in which I am bashed by my lover repeatedly, I am so peaceful hours later. The effect is not immediate, it takes time for the body to recognize it. But afterwards, what a deep rest. Like a pot of water that is set to boil. All the chemicals, all the viruses, all the filth of it stripped away by the boiling, and all that is left is pure, still, water. Water that is innocent. But to reach that innocence it must undergo a thunderstorm. Yes. Man is like that. Man needs extreme violence before peace can be found. This world is begging for such an extreme violence right now. 2012 a cleansing. Mankind desperately needs to be boiled.
At some point I stopped listening to music to enjoy it's beauty. I began listening to it as a companiment to another activity I was doing. That is the trap of modern civilization. Instead of enjoying something for what it is, as it is, it is paired to something else as a means of progression. This multi-tasking is slowly decaying man's ability to appreciate art. Then I question if mergence has been around for centuries. Silver and black for instance, is much more appealing than the two colours individually. Man and woman mate to make a child. Is mergence one of the cores of existence? Chemicals being fused together to make medicines, to make food, to create clothing, to create other elements out of themselves that are used by man. H20 for example. Hydrogen And Oxygen coming together. Is fusion the necessary force of life?
A second world. That might be the answer. Like the computer virtual reality game second life. Like the ww2, the second internet. How could this new world, new universe be started and how would it be based? What ingredients would you need to build a universe? Would it start from the basic, from the elements within science? Or would it somehow start thru current technology and take over the present world? Or would it all start within the mind, some kind of a wormhole to a 4th dimension, the 4th dimension being time, maybe the new world would be a reality in which we'd have instantaneous access to view the impact of the choices we make in the present for our future. And the new world would be “errorless” in that sense, or, the rebirth of the original Adam and Eve paradise, without sin.
All things eventually pass, this I do know. You see it present in the day to day, with pop culture. One Hollywood starlet being hot for a while, then giving way to a new one, the old now not as interesting or beautiful. Why? Has she changed, become less beautiful, become less rare? No. It is only the truth that all things eventually pass. Everything is temporary, and everyone is temporary. Some things take longer to pass than others, but everything eventually passes. You see it present in the cycles of life, it's seasons, it's deaths. Present in the human world, in the rise and fall of economy. In the inward realm, where one significant experience slowly mutes itself and gives rise to another. All badness eventually passes, as does all goodness. There is nothing you can hold on to. Nothingness is what is everything. So it is not actually detachment which should be your goal as the Taoists and Buddhists suggest, but rather embracing every opportunity to attach yourself as wholly as possible, for it soon will pass.
Interesting. People find it a lot easier to believe lies about me than the truth. The truth is so abnormally nonsensical, that it makes absolutely no sense. Therefore it is easier to believe the normal, and place me in a little box of stereotypes that are easy to digest. The truth makes no sense. The truth makes no sense, and therefore, it must be false. That is what most people tend to think. So, if I am real, and everything about me is real, even though it makes no sense, then it must also mean other things in the universe which make absolutely no sense are real as well. Unless I am the anomaly of not making sense and the only thing which doesn't. This is a very important thing to be in realization of, because if the rules of logic that people normally apply to life fail to make sense of me, then they must fail to make sense of other things, and perhaps big things, like 2012, the presence of aliens, the very existence of the universe...
I need to invent a thought-recording machine. And a dream-recording machine, though, the Japanese have already partially done that. Which is Great! Ego can't get in the way of progression. If mankind had no ego, a hell of a lot more could get done.
When I get old, I wanna be known as the crazy old lady who always has candy in her pockets. I want to be the stray bit of pleasure to kids that have already discovered at a young age the sickness of life. I wanna be the place they can come to in search of dark thoughts and truths, and of course small little chocolates I'll conceal in the many pockets I'll have. You gotta have lots of pockets when you're old. Children like going thru pockets, and you gotta have something interesting in each one. A story for each object, a magical and glorious story, quirky enough to be almost believable. See because I'd make a real shoddy parent, I'd be too liberated to force children to do anything, and too absent-minded to remember that they need taking care after. But I'd be an awesome old lady with candy in my pockets. I'd be the best at that.
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