Sunday, December 3, 2017

Pieces

He wants to consume me because he doesn't know what love is.

How I've convinced myself these distractions are good for me... and they are! Really! No, really!

Dancer, perfect artist in reality.

Coming up to an almost imperceptible itch, I could no longer comprehend the familiar.

Technology and art have intrinsically disjoint motivations. One is utilitarian in its creation and manifestations, and the other cannot be put into a box.

I am not afraid to love him
     I like to store it up
          I like to not speak about it
               The last thing I want
                    Is release

I crave disreality
Fantasy, dreams
These are the only real things

I want to float on those notes
     Until eternity

The melody glances me

Shimmering in place
Whole mind, hole mind
Shedding Object temporarily
I do not know her, I do not know
Her image cannot even
Disappear here
Only unawareness extinguishes
Painful shadow

Saturday, October 28, 2017

Trip

I've come to terms with infinite recursion.
I've come to terms with reality existing as a vision of a vision of a vision of a vision of a...
Life's images can be mapped one-to-one to a number with infinite digits in an infinite number of combinations.
The observer observes the observer observing the observer... There are only outward observations.
There is no root!

Saturday, August 26, 2017

Current Status

I am moving toward unreality. So I desire. So I forget to desire. Let me flee from myself. I need to be alone. I pull pieces from the viscous void. Spiritual vernacular is useful to describe that which is indescribable, yet there is is a falseness, a voodoo aspect in it that resembles religion. I am not afraid of my thoughts, of venturing into pure territory. Let me love something as much as people fall into ecstasy with religion and spirituality. I want to find something into which I can pour my energy and awe. Maybe I believe in the transcendency of man. I should aim never to misdirect my energy. I need guidance-- I have no conviction. With conviction, I can push further, can make transcendency realizable at least for myself. I can live as I had dreamed. Energy put into becoming adaptable is energy diverted from developing new ideas.


Sometimes I feel beauty with intuition, other times with knowledge. Girls play with the names they've been given, ...warped, reclaimed, sitting housed within carved out homes. Pressure begets community, creativity at times. Observing vs. growing through crossing over. I like the idea of demarcating life into journeys. Sometimes inspiration calls for new mediums; sometimes new mediums force inspiration.

Channel my love. Channel my strong feeling. Pieces of individual always fall away. One day I will share my vision. No slates, no labels.

Saturday, February 11, 2017

As Lost As Possible

Recently I've been experiencing fleeting moments of clarity. New realizations relished one moment and dispersed in the very next . My last one was about Kafka's idea that writing is really self-serving or something along those lines. In trying to find that particular quote, I found another one which encapsulates my overwhelming feelings at the moment: "I am free and that is why I am lost."

I told a close friend my truth regarding my attitude about the world around me. Saying the words aloud were surprising even to myself. I did not know the words had already been ironed out in my subconscious.

My truth being the inescapable, frustrating feeling of self-alienation. An alienation that breeds apathy and resigned acceptance of uncertainty. If I don't actively convince myself to choose life, I naturally wallow without grief. Before, I believe I had deluded myself with a hopefulness about human transcendence through creation, mutual cooperation, and kindness. I fought for this as if it were my religion. Yet I always secretly knew I was only trying to convince myself that those qualities were truth in order to more easily choose life.


I still fight for this hopeful truth because I believe it is a fight worth endeavoring even in its objective futility. I struggle just as a believer with her religion. Subjectively I would argue the fight is not futile; making this choice allows me to cope. My rationale is this: because living is the most I am capable of doing, I choose to live. My new philosophy is not so much a necessity as it is a choice. In my mind, for another more courageous aesthetic fool (like Raskolnikov), it could be a choice as arbitrary as any.

For me, as a human, I like to have hope. I enjoy the permutations of life: making acquaintances, reading stories, achieving feats of abstract thought. Experiencing the sadness of heartbreak, the pain of failure, the thrill of success. Physical pleasures. Mental pleasures. Spiritual pleasures. I absorb them wholeheartedly the moment I reaffirm my choice. I must pay the price for this reflection which I cannot un-imagine and so I never live as fully as someone who never contemplates that such a choice exists.



Attempting to find absolute truth is like attempting to prove the facts of a particular system are true using the facts of the system itself (Godel's Incompleteness Theorem). I accept the uncertainty of not knowing in the same manner that I accept the concept of zero.

These words spilled out from the starting point that if I were to be fully myself, I would never say a word to anyone. I would exist as an indifferent observer, each exchange playing out whether or not I am there to see it.

Monday, January 23, 2017

Short Post of Accountability

Today passed unpassionately.

Reading The New Jim Crow has uncovered a disturbing truth that I have been blind to, or rather, ignorant of, until now. This awakening can be likened to my feelings post The Second Sex. I want to educate myself. Elevate my consciousness in order to live my life fully aware of the consequences. To keep in check my interactions with others, my consumerism, the direction I choose for my life, my words, actions, and art. To take action and speak out against injustices.

I rediscovered the joy of reading over winter break. Reading has consumed a lot of my free time but I'll try to document from time to time.

Friday, December 9, 2016

Stoning the Dam to Break

A conversation with a friend while she tripped acid was revelatory. She said to me what we might hope (and possibly already know) to be true deep down. At the core of every human is the desire to give and receive love... to understand one another. Interaction and communication is difficult and a lot of meaning gets fudged up in the process; nevertheless, our deepest nature to love exists and connects us if we let go of the mad charades we undergo to prove to ourselves our image of success. She seems to have experienced this knowledge but I could only try to feel it through her explanations. That her explanation resonated could prove she is right about our essential nature. Deep down, I already know this to be true.

My other friend has been trying to explain to me that he didn't believe competition is natural. I argued vehemently that it is, that evolution is the mechanism by which competition naturally sprang into existence. Now that two close people have told me their true feelings, maybe I am the one inclined to delusion. Maybe I'm the one whose thoughts are still clouded by, as my first friend calls it, the 'collective mythology'.

Believing that we cannot escape our tendency to compete with others is harmful because in so doing we subconsciously appropriate that tendency. Or maybe we use such a explanation to justify our selfish actions. Such a self-perpetuating cycle is a closed off one. It is almost impossible to break through to the minds and hearts of those blinded by the desire to prove their own success. Anyone who might pose a different view is weak, unable to thrive in an eat-or-be-eaten world and thus must resort to disguising their incompetence by claiming to take a higher moral ground. How easy it is to scoff any other explanation when one can say that the people serving alternative explanations have ulterior motives themselves! The competitive mindset is small yet clears every hurdle in its own shallow way. 

Choosing to believe that greed is the immutable nature of humanity serves what purpose? To further the institutions which bring us further from our full potential? What are the point of actions not rooted in love?


Thursday, November 10, 2016

Out of Phase

A shade or two of mild frustration is required to draw me back here, but if such a thing prods the words out, so be it. I have a few things to say; my lack of writing has to do with one of those things. Each day I've been waking up, computing, slipping away. My daily processes have been slowly molded by a particular way of thinking, that is, solve the problems given to me in a piece-wise motion leaving as few stones unturned as possible. After shedding the excess, I am left with only variable manipulation. This is what I had wanted, to have that mathematical mind. Now I've become unsympathetic to people in our conversations and have suffered for it.


And another thing: people always get what they want. Your subconscious moves you. Your actions cannot be helped when your priorities have been fleshed out (whether you are fully aware of them or not). My friends who desire to be well-liked by their peers receive it. My friends who aspire to the highest of academic recognition do so. Partly your talents and predispositions inspire your goals. It is sensible to conclude that you would desire something you've already acquired a taste for due to external feedback regarding your natural state, however it leans. 

I've had a couple of dreams in which I've felt absolute elation and awe. All that moved me to elation was the beauty of the space I explored. In one dream, that space was a large rectangular room with three walls made of glass partitioned into windows by thin metal rods. All three glass walls revealed that the apartment room was completely surrounded by water. The green waves of the water rolled on relentlessly round the glass room but I felt no fear. The atmosphere was serene and powerful. 


In my dream last night, I met a lonely, unattractive woman who showed me her beautiful home. She had a gorgeous bedroom in a long room overlooking water with three different pianos lined up against the wall. She had a dining area resembling a Viking hall filled with long wooden tables and benches. Her living room was breathtaking, exquisite, spacious, light. A chandelier glittered light throughout the house. The light reached to the end of the white staircase. 

I was confused in my dream because the woman shared nothing about her opinion on the space in which she lived, or at the least she seemed bored with it. I took photos of everything but none of my photos saved. When I spoke to the woman, she was detached, evasive, and very sad. Deep down I felt that I was using her to relish in the beauty of her abode, but she tolerated me because I was company. However, even these reservations did not prevent my excitement. Soon a party broke out, guests filled the house, and the beauty of the place could no longer be captured on camera. I knew that none of the people at to the party cared about the woman. Truthfully, neither did I. These dreams have led me to wonder the possibility that, as shallow as it may be, what my heart wants is to experience as many beautiful spaces as I can.