I'm doing this for me

I suppose it's one of those seasonal moments of "clarity" I go through every now and again.

I suppose as of late the one question that's been weighing on my mind more than any other is why? Why do we do what we do? Why do we classify some things as acceptable and others an unacceptable? Why do we allow certain social constructs in while blocking others out?

It seems to me that pretty much all our "experts," our "leaders," our "learned" men are just that - men. They have no secrets. No greater knowledge than the common buffoon plucked from the street. All they have is the knowledge of the way their particular system works within the greater system and how to manipulate it. They make it up as they go. In this respect, why are men so afraid of failure? Aside from that fact that often, longer endeavors can prove to be rather time-wasteful, failure in itself is not bad. Granted I won't go as far as to argue that it is good either (a "good lessom" so some would argue). Rather, it just is. We try something. We succeed? Great. We fail? Well, so what. Even the time we spent isn't that much of a waste I would argue. We passed time and kept ourselves busy long enough to distract ourselves from the general existential burdens and breakdowns.

Second problem I keep going back to is my struggle with the divine. Not a god, or God, or any deity in particular. Not even whether or not such a thing exists or not, or whether it is benevolent or not. I've long since decided neither is truly important. What is important is the injustice perpetrated by those who bow to these beliefs and judge humanity according to these outside standards. Those who bow to these forces and humble themselves before them. Those who argue that all evil and injustice is a teaching tool. A testing tool against which humanity may sharpen itself. But I ask you: if a man murders a child, where is the justice for that child, in this life or the other. Even if he is put to death in the most brutal of manners in this life, where is the justice for that child? What good does his subsequent punishment by death do for that child? He is now dead forever, and forever stripped of his chance to be. And even if there is such a thing as an after life, with a place for the good and a place for the bad, what good is that for the child? What good is it for this man to go to hell to pay for killing a child? After all, once again, the child gets nothing from this. It is a system flawed from beginning. It's as if humanity is constantly playing catch up with justice. But no preemptive measure can be taken without taking away man's freedom, one might say. But why is 'freedom' worth this price? Why do we willingly give over a part of ourselves to attain something none of us truly ever exercise. After all, do we ever truly utilize this freedom for which we've paid such a high price? No, truly we don't. For as soon as we have a taste of freedom and are faced with its consequences, the words in small print we never bargained or bothered to check for, we gladly give it away to various social constructs for peace of mind and security, knowing full well the price we've paid for it. We give it to our presidents, our armies, our CEO's, our principals...in other words, our learned men who are no better than we are in any regard, yet whom we raised up to the status of gods on earth. And in the end what have we gained? We've traded away justice and security for merely a shadow of itself, the base and degenerate form we have created in our own hubris and image. But the saddest of all is the fact that there is no escape from this. Once you sign the social contract, you are bound to it for life. And you never have a choice on the contract. None of us were ever offered the choice to sign or not. Instead, we were led blind to where we signed, by men who knew not where they led or why they led.

So eat, drink, be merry. For tomorrow we die.

So why worry one's self with such useless musings and notions then? Why spend nights agonizing over questions whose answers are forever just out of reach. Just be. Fast cars, fast women and cheap drinks.

"So why would you care
To get out of this place
You and me and all our friends

Such a happy human race."

Smile. Life is still worthwhile. 

I'll show you how god falls asleep on the job...

Taking a look in the mirror. It's depressing. It's a trip down the rabbit hole farther than one perhaps intends. It's scary.

"And how can we win,
When fools can be kings"

I'm a coward. I can't stand to see others be happy. I can't stand to not be the center of attention. I'm too prone to envy and jealousy. Instead of being happy for others, I only envy and resent them. Even if I'm perfectly well off, I crave to be better than them. It validates me. And I hate it. I want to love humanity and forgive those who do wrong against me, but I can't find the strength in me. I want to accept all without judging and take them as they are, but I find myself unable to for whatever reason. And I don't know why. I'm filled with hate and anger. And envy. And jealousy. I judge humanity to be base and beyond saving, yet I myself am the worst specimen of all. I want control yet can't handle the responsibility that comes along with it. I want power but don't want to be held accountable. I hate being chastised and rebuked. I hate being criticized. I can't take criticism. I hide behind the veil of an "ego," yet have no confidence in myself. I hate myself. I hate what I've become. I hate getting up in the morning and realizing that I'm not the person I thought I'd be at this point in my life. Realizing that I"m a coward and that all my shortcomings are my fault. I blame others, yet know that it's ultimately my fault. But I refuse to accept it. I pretend that I'm better than everyone else in order to shield myself from the realization and the pain that comes with it. I talk down to others constantly. I hide behind cynicism and witty facts to make myself appear smarter or better than others, but I know they're nothing but illusions and masks. I can't face myself. I'm suicidal. I don't know to what degree. But the thoughts have been preoccupying me lately. What if I just let go of it all. Would it be better? I know I'd hurt some people, but I wouldn't feel this way anymore. I'd be able to estinguish thoughts. And the pain that comes with them. I want to be better. I want to fit in. I lack charisma. I make up circumstances and interactions in my mind to give myself a false sense of worth so I can say "well I could do that if I tried...but I just don't want to try because it's pointless seeing as how I know I can already do it, and do it better." I am everything I hate about others. I'm a reflection of the worst parts of humanity. I claim intelligence yet fail to realize even the most basic things. I rely on luck to pass off as skill. When I can't be the best, I claim the system is broken. That it's the system being inadequate for my far superior skill, or intelligence, or any number of things I tell myself to justify my short comings. I quit too often. I'm a quitter. I can't accept compliments. I can't accept losing. Or winning. I'm constantly off putting. I lack confidence in myself or my abilities. I have no self esteem. I hide behind the superficial. 

I want to be king.

But I have hope. I know that in despair there are those who look at me as I am, and accept that. And it makes me wonder why? Why, despite all my harsh words, and bad attitude, and childish behavior, they still welcome me back with open arms. And they ask for nothing in return. I over analyze. I try to make sense of things that already make sense. I try to look at the deeper meaning to things all the while neglecting the meaning in front of me. I refuse to accept things as they are. I hate humanity. I wish to see this whole world burn and all human life wiped out. I hate bureaucracy. I hate democracy and the emergence of the modern man and society. I hate money and the society it drives. I hate individualism. But I hate it because I love people. I hate them because I can't stand to see them fall so short of their potential. I can see what humanity can be. And the great heights it can reach. And the good it can do. Yet it constantly fails. And it kills me to see that. I can't accept to see humanity and people treat each other the way they do and take advantage of each other and trample on each other. And yes there is still good in people, but it's far overshadowed by the selfish individualistic self exalting majority. And I am part of that majority. I hate humanity because I'm no less human than anyone else. Because it acts the way I do. And it's the same as me. 

"Flick the switch and open your third eye, you'd see that

We should never be afraid to die"

Down the rabbit hole and back out again.

Even now, the cycle of bullshit and generalizations and overcompensating 'realizations' continues.

"So go, find a new way of coping with being alive.
When you find it don't tell me, I don't want to hear all your lies."

But I'm ok now. I find that by finally taking a look in the mirror, and looking at the reflection, it makes sense. 

"So what's it going to take for you to realize
it all could go away in one blink of an eye?"

You dream the dream. You dance the dance. You sing the song. You live the life. You wake up. You go about your day. You enjoy the company of those you have. You try to maximize the positive. You deal with the negative. You eat, rest and laugh. You sleep. And repeat. And you realize how precious that is. How precious being alive is. What a gift it is. And what a curse. But what a wonderful curse. A curse like none other. Priceless. And you take a breath and enjoy the view. And live the life you want to. Enough with all the whining, moaning and bitching. The analyzing. The justifying. The prioritizing. Be. For each good, there is a bad. For each bad, there is good. For every wrong there is a right. For every right there is a wrong. You do the best with what you have, and you hold on for dear life. All things are going to happen naturally. As they will. As they always have. And you hope for an answer to the bigger questions. You build your walls, and you gather security blankets, and you build your fences, and gate off your communities. And you open your heart to others, and you laugh, and you sing, and you feel the warmth of sharing that part of yourself. And you cry. And you smile. And hurt. And you contemplate. And you realize. And you drink. And you say stupid things. You make amends. You apologize. You regret and you vow to change. You learn from others and serve as an example. And you build a movie set. To tear it down. To entertain and to express. To be popular. To drink away the solitude. And you blog. You reach out to a voice in the void. You hope to hear. You turn on the radio and get lost in sound. 

It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.

You play martyr. You dream of heroism. You revile in the base and laugh at the meek. You fantasize about the good and the bad. You walk both paths, and pick as you go. 

What would you do if the world ended tomorrow? If everything you knew came to an end. And you lost everything. If the world just stopped being. Would you care? Would you feel it? Would you feel it for the others? For everyone else? Would you care about self preservation? Or would you worry about your family? Your friends? Your girlfriends and boyfriends? Humanity? Would you have hope or would you give in? Would you do because you can? Would you think about your fucking dog? Would you go back to your nine to five after that? Could you just get into your car and drive away from it all? Shrug your shoulders and drive away? Could you give your life to save another? And expect nothing in return? No glory. No sad story in the paper. No news headline. No sweet words at your funeral. Just give your life for someone and never have it known. Not even by that person. Would you give your life to end all genocide? To end world hunger? End poverty? End all the pain and suffering through disease? To bring fathers and brothers home from war? Could you look hell in the face and laugh? Turn away and walk away? 

I don't know if I could. I don't know if I'd do any of it. I don't know if I"m man enough. I used to think I'd readily give myself for any of these. I used to think I was the hero in the nightmares, rescuing the weak, saving the fallen. I used to imagine myself as a trumpeter of the glory days to come. A beacon of hope and light in a world so devoid  of both. That I was special. Unique. Original. Misunderstood. That no one knew what I had gone through. What I thought. What I could be. I still do. I'll think this for as long as I can think. 

A weight is lifted on this evening. 

"A falling star

At least I fall alone.
I can’t explain what you can’t explain."

I don't want to love the world. I don't want to forgive anymore. I don't want to accept everyone. I don't want to be the great hope and beacon of light amidst a failing world. I don't want to stand out and be the champion. I don't want to get along with everyone. I don't want to smile and pretend everything is alright. I just want to be. Be me. Be myself. No masks. No language. No subtlety. No walls. I want to face the man in the mirror and earn his respect once and for all. I want to show him that the world beyond the looking glass is not as dark as it may appear. I want to show him that it's ok to step through that window and join us. I don't want to live for any great philosophy. I don't want to live for any great ideal. I don't want to live as a martyr for a cause. I don't want to be associated with a particular personality or set of thoughts, ideas, ideals, contributions, actions, or anything else. I just want to wake up in the morning, and face the mirror. Knowing that I am who I am. That this is what it is. And that it's ok. It's okay. So turn the music up. Turn on the bass. Face the mob. And dance. The gunshots sling away, and their sound sets the beat. The bullets compel you to move. So move. Drop the disguise. And aim to kill. Be merry. And be kind. And give the world what it needs. Be what you are. Be who you are. But do it like no one else. Run. Run away. Run for your life. Just run. 

So I sit here with a glass of milk. And I listen to the poets of our generation. I lose myself in their words. And they make it alright. And their words purify. And I'm looking on the bright side, and balancing the whole damn thing. 

"See I'm all about them words
Over numbers, unencumbered numbered words;
Hundreds of pages, pages, pages for words."

I've found the most amazing woman in the world. And she completes me. And she makes life worth living. And it makes everything alright just to be around her. To hear her voice. To know that she's there. I'm almost finally out of words. Someone once said that the art of the tumble is to be humble and realize nothing is wrong. Take ownership of the situation. Be proud that you fucked up perfectly. Then smile, and wave. 

"Well if you should nervously break down

When its time for the shakedown would you take it?
It's when you cry just a little but you laugh in the middle that you've made it.
And don't it feel alright. And don't it feel so nice.
Lovely."

Say it again. Do we all dream of dreams or are our dreams the reality in which we are now being dreamt up? Such childish questions. Yet so intriguing. How do you ever really know? What's the difference between a lucid dream and reality? As I lay me down tonight, I close my eyes. What a beautiful sight. Once I dry my eyes I'll climb on. It takes some work to make it work. And it takes some good to make it hurt. It takes the one to know the other. In time to get away. 

For now, I'm glad god is asleep. But time goes on. 

Show me what I'm looking for

Why do people choose to remember history? Why do we analyze our lives as they are in the present with respect to how they were in the past and how we anticipate them to be in the future? Why do we consider the consequences of our actions? Why is it impossible to know everything. Be an expert in everything?

Why is it that every time I undertake to learn everything there is to learn I get side tracked by getting wrapped up in the small parts of the bigger picture and forget the big picture all together? Yet each of these small parts is a mosaic in its own right. So how do we beat this Zeno Paradox?

"i once had a grip on everything
it feels better to let go"

It really does feel better to let go though. I'm interested in why we do what we do. Why we focus on some things? Why we gravitate toward certain decisions and fields of focus? Sure it can be said that it's because of "society," but what makes "society" choose to gravitate toward those things?

Ever since I was little I've had a Truman Show-esque feeling toward my life. As if I was constantly being watched and manipulated by a greater force in respect to the circumstances and interactions I've had. And not a "god" force really. I've always believed since I can remember that I'm meant for something monumental. And I don't mean necessarily a greater good. For whatever reason, I just have always felt and been strongly pulled toward the idea that there will come a time in my life sometime (and it feels ever closer each day) when I'll end up altering the world as we know it, whether for better or for worse. Not really sure which. Just one way or another. It feels like knowing I"m going to create the next major paradigm shift in the course of humanity/society by influencing a large number of people/of the population. How? I don't know. I know that if it does happen (which I'm strangely led to believe it will), it will not be through the path I'm embarked on now. It won't be through college or through my career path. It won't be through any of the events I anticipate to happen as a result of the track I'm on now. It's not a belief necessarily. More of a feeling than anything. An obsession of sorts. Perhaps it's just an overinflated ego. Perhaps I'm just trying to compensate for something lacking in my life or personality by deluding myself with dreams of grandeur. But I don't feel like it is. All of life is a choice, and I can't help but shake the feeling that I'm meant for a more influential choice. 

In a very strange way, I feel that I've fully realized the meaning of life. And it's a dark place to go. As if all there is to life is this. Our purpose is to wake up in the morning and go about our day. And make our choices. And that's it. And our choices don't mean anything past our momentary mental state. Yet they affect the rest of our lives. And so it's a constant cycle. A never ending run on the mill.

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions. Every day. Each and every moment. Decisions.

"Decision sits so make it quick

A breath inhaled from an air so sick"

My thoughts are preoccupied with trying to turn off my thoughts. Leave a complete blank. Or at least achieve complete control so as to not be influenced by straying thoughts that sometimes just won't leave. Separate emotion and reason from the mind. Be able to turn one on and one off if so I wish at any time. Have complete and full control of the body and mind. Speak only when spoken to and even then only what is necessary. But how to reconcile something like that with society? It seems an awful cold way to live, but it's not cold at all I would argue. Just different. And why is that which is different always looked down upon? Even by me? Why is it so hard to accept? Why does everything have to fall in a nice little mold? 

The limitations of our mind and body trouble me greatly. I don't like it. Why have we not evolved further? Why did we just stop here? 

I want to be able to play guitar like a god. I want to stand on a stage in front of hundreds of thousands of adoring fans and have them hanging to every word I say. Have complete control over the masses. I want to have charisma. I find myself to be naturally very uncharismatic and off-putting. Not by myself. By others. Most people I meet tend to develop negative opinions about me. Even when I try my best to follow the "mold." I just can't develop that secret magical touch. And it bothers me. I'm very much a control freak. And I crave to be the center of attention. I need attention. Which I find strange, because I"m very much an introvert. 

I want to dress more sharply, but lack of money and proper physical build keep me from being able to wear a lot of clothing "properly." And that thought in itself perplexes me. Why should I care so much about how clothing fits and so much about wearing clothes to fit an aesthetic image as predetermined by society when I question the very reasons others do it? 

I can't reconcile the immense hunger for knowledge with an ever-present feeling of apathy and laziness. The guitar is such a healing instrument. It makes everything alright. And it brings such peace and clarity. Music. I just can't get over it. It's the only thing that seems to drown out the thoughts too. The only thing that can stop the onslaught of persistent existential depression. I love the pool. I love looking at attractive women. I love women so much. So much. That line, "...Miles from Coltrane," it's so beautiful. We're all just posing for pictures that aren't being taken. I want to just lay out in the sun. By the water. And watch the people. Watch the women. I want to talk to women. Never to touch. Never to go any further than talking. But talking. And not in a sexual way. Women just offer such a different feel to a conversation. And it's a very alluring feel. There's something that pulls you in. 

I ask myself why people get so wrapped up in politics. Why we create superfluous codes of behavior, dress and speech for ourselves to only further dilute our efforts at gaining a final result. We create pointless, arbitrary rules for ourselves as society instead of focusing on problems that are tangible and directly affecting in our lives. 

"We're never gonna win the world

We're never gonna stop the war"

Why do we attempt to control the lives of others and constantly let others dictate our lives? How can a government, which is made up out of people, "own" land that those very people are living on? After all, when you buy land, you buy it from another person, who bought it from either the government or somehow acquired it by sheer force themselves. And that's baffling. How does one "own" land? How can they designate some land public and some private? And if you own no "land" then you're tossed out on the street. Who's to say you can't build a house there on the street? The government. Society. Why? Because they own it. But how can they own something? You're paying them to act in your best interest, yet they act in the best interest of a concept. I think people forget that the government is just a concept. They fear the power of constitutions and leaders, of "big government" and other such nonsense. But they forget that it's just a concept. Something like that has absolutely no power what so ever unless you let it. It's a social contract we all "enter" in to it's said. But I disagree. It's a social contract forced upon us. We are raised to believe that this social contract is the only thing there is and that we are willingly entering into it. But which of us actually chose to enter into a contract with society when we were born or became aware of ourselves that dictated these rights to the government and other such arbitrarily powerless concepts? But they say "hey, if you don't like it, you don't have to live here. Go elsewhere." But there is no where else to go! Even if you leave the country and go to another, the same constraints still follow. The same idea of social contracts. The same failing in the minds of others that by electing a system to protect them, they are trapping themselves in this very system without any realization of what they are actually doing. And they believe they can't act out. Can't break the system lest they face punishment as dictated by the system. But why? Why do we let the system punish us for acting out against the system? It's as if a man moves out of his parents house upon realization that he does in fact have free will and choice, yet they still chose to punish him for moving out by setting his bed time and subjecting him to punishments as if he still lived at home. It makes no sense. I fail to see the point of dissenting though. 

People are stupid. In their basest form, stripped of all the superficial bullshit that gives us "worth," we're all stupid. We chase an unknown goal from the time we become aware of ourselves on a path we're not sure we're even on. And when do we reach this goal? How do we know that we will? Or even if there is a goal? Yet we go head on and are so quick to judge others for not adhering to our supposed "path." And vice versa. So we judge others and rank everything without actually knowing why. I'm very judgmental. I hate it. I want to be able to remove every judgement from my mind. I want to take things and people completely at face value. 

"A hundred billion castaways

Looking for a home"

I'll send an S.O.S. to the world. But there will be no one to decipher what the message says. 

Fuck it. Happy 4/20

They asked us if we could leave...

"you looked behind you to smile back at me
crashed into a rack full of magazines..."

...Though I'm sure you'd remind me if you had to. 

I don't sleep with a new girl. I'm quite happy with that. And my friends approve of her, even with her being good for me. She doesn't put too much stock in the Bible, and has such a dirty mouth. I like that about her. She's awkward in some certain situations and not very artsy. I love that line. And it's such a comfortable love for sure. 

I listen to music to tune out my thoughts. Memories of last year keep flooding my mind more and more. Trying to figure out what it all means. Why the brain and emotions function the way they do. I'm not faking any smiles. She has flaws, but that's what impresses me. It's a fine line between being misanthropic and social. But how do you face yourself and look in the mirror every morning. 

I roll with the punches for now. I learn to wade through the waters of sea-foam green. I learn to catch the tears falling from heaven and fill my cup with the morning dew. I emerge into the new order a succubus, a political vanguard with colored opinions and tainted speech, skewed view and irrational decisions. I pick the first one and cast the stone in hopes of creating ripples that will change the world. If there is a heaven and hell, I don't belong in heaven. I'm shy of the hours needed to graduate to the ranks of the angelic beings. So I stand at the door and cast stones at the windows, hoping to entice a maiden to grant me entrance. I ride the music wave to the heart of this world and watch as the ripples permeate all that is good. I combat the darkness with my soul and my silence and stand as the only beacon of hope and light. I permeate your thoughts and wedge my life in subtlety. I can safely say I'm in. I'm in.

I don't want to be a pen by which history is rewritten. I want to guide no man to the promise land. I just want to turn the thoughts off and drift into the seeming oblivion of the androids who do in fact dream of sheep. The safety blanket of all that is innocent in youth slowly slips and the silence is deafening. It is a cold space which chills to the bone. 

We're lost. All so utterly, inexplicably lost. We focus on the small and we worry about things that do not truly matter. Compare us to our ancestors and surely we are no worse. Yet we are better of in every regard, fail to realize this though we do. So block it all off. Shut it all off. Reboot this machine we call earth and give way to the new generation. But do so and forsake the beauty. The majesty. The elegance and the gift like no other. To do so would be righteous. Yet to do so would be the travesty of eons. 

The drugs that rot our minds offer the brief pathway into the otherworldly of which can only dream of. The escape is damnable. Do or do not, there is no try. Yet in trying we do and in doing we enable. And in enabling we only further what we know is not right. And in furthering it we are simply driven to do not. But how can one do not and waste what is supposed to be given. The dream is ever present, so effervescent, so out of reach. It walks in the shadows, behind walls and the curtains, it is the noise on our windows that disappears when we search for it. So what is one to do. What can I do. How do I live and not waste my life. How do I know I have lived a good life? A fulfilling life?

Music. Music. It's all about music. It's the thread that connects and separates. The flowing liquid guiding our paths while we watch on and wonder. Can't remember, what went wrong last September. Though I can. I am reminded all the time. And yet in my comfort my memories haunt me. They race through my mind and I have lost the power to turn them off. 

"I sleep with this new girl i'm still getting used to

my friends all approve, say she's gonna be good for you
they throw me, high fives"

I prefer profanity. A dirty mouth is the cleanest mouth. It is the one most true to itself. No pretenses. Just being yourself. How to be yourself? What does that even mean? Do words even really have any meaning? Is there power in the man who does not speak but observes? Is the age old adage no longer relevant in our time? Is he a fool now who does not speak though he knows, and he how does not know but speaks a hero? A gentleman of the highest regard. 

The sea-foam green permeates this moment. Filled with a yellow undertone and a blue hue. The more I think the less I think, the less I know. My mind melts away and my thoughts take their own form in the void oblivion. I no longer seek approval. For your opinion I do not care. It factors not into my equation. The purple onions dance in front of the pink unicorn pony and as he jumps over the rainbow his white horn explodes with the mindless numbness that is so sought after. It calms the people and the nations rejoice in his love, his compassion and his care for them. They are but ants, clothed in their burlap sacks and riding their waves to safety as their fields sit and rot, yet they thank him. They praise him and call him Lord. Our God they say, you have freed us from temptation and have given us the promise of the eternal. This world matters not for someday we will get to ride your rainbow in the sky and sit by your side. All the while, he looks quizzically and fails to comprehend. Was it all for him? Was his the glory? The eternal and everlasting? Did Thomas suffer for his sake? Why? 

"You remember the house on Ridge Road 

told you and the Devil to both just leave me alone.
If this is salvation, I can show you the trembling.
You'll just have to trust me. I'm scared."

Are we all just a lost cause? Do our words fall on deaf ears? What's the price of four little souls? The price of the magician is a burden we shall all bear! Just lost causes. Music and lost causes. It goes and drives the earth as the spine chilling shrill permeates our ears. They go on. They march and like ants fall in line. They follow the line to the bottle of hydrochloric acid which burns them all, their flesh mixing with the smell and the putrid stench an acrid cry for help. Yet they march. They leave no comrade behind. They march like without a head and wait for the great salvation to overtake us all. The comrades watch as we all fall down like a brick house of dominoes. 

"Oh, please don't drop me home

Because its not my home, its their
Home, and I'm welcome no more"

For now I am found. I stand above the ocean and watch the foam collect. To die by your side, all of you, well the pleasure and privlidge truly is mine. I am doomed to watch you and you me, and I will watch you until my eyes no longer hold their sparkle, and defend you with my last breath. But no longer will I be me. We gave up that right when we were raised. I go. I live. I learn. And I fail. And I wait for the light before being cast into the hell I believe not in. I am the light. Are you? I will never go out and I will live on forever. For I am not a solitary soldier. I am one of a million. My generation shall prosper and fight on. I am an antique in an ever forgetting world. There is a light and I am it. 

The city is burning and we are all trapped. So we dance. We dance to the music. We will never leave, even if they ask us. For we must dance to the music. The music compels us to dance. So we dance and never leave. It our own personal hell after all. 

And they say we are lost. No my friends, we are not lost. We're just dancing to their music no longer, but to our own beat. I dream of Katy Perry. I think I should know how to make love to something innocent without leaving my fingerprints out. I am an everlasting hunter. In a moment like this, clarity is visible. And the meaning of life is before us all. So we drink to kill ourselves. 

I'm not your knight in shinning armor. It's time to go our separate ways. I won't regret I'll just forget. I'm through letting this torment me. No longer will you be a monster underneath my bed. 

We have come to the end of the ride. Which way will you go? Personally, I'm going North. Follow the migration of the birds and watch the sparrows collect on the birch. To see them is to be alive.  

I hear what you're saying, but you're missing the point. So before we cause a problem could we solve it instead? 

I'm dreaming with a broken heart. But I am awake. 

Rose in hand, I step outside.

Ain't no sunshine

...When she's gone.

I want to shoot heroin and get rocked out of my mind right now.

It's a perfect rainy day. It's a miserable mood outside, yet I have so much built up energy and life.
This mood is not apathy I would argue. It's built on a large ego instead. It's hard to explain. So I won't. I know what it is. I know what I want. And that's all that really matters. I don't see why we're always so obsessed with explain things to others. If it works for you, run with it. Why do we always look for affirmation from others?

Living wasteland...

I find the SGA and the machine pathetic. Not to be feared, but to be pitied. Their lives and thought processes are humorous at best. It's nothing but a large conglomeration of the weakest links of humanity. It's like a bunch of toothless, scrappy little pups banding together to make their bark louder than anyone else's, yet what can they really accomplish if you just ignore them? They can bite you, but won't cause any injury or serious damage. It's more pathetic than anything else really.

I find myself to be on a verge of eliminating my cowardice. I'm a coward. A big one at that. And it bothers me. I have grand dreams and a large hero complex, yet when faced with confrontation of any kind, I cower and back away. It's partly a response to the way I've been trained and raised I suppose. Coming from nothing, you can't really afford to step on toes or stand out because society will not stand for you. It doesn't care about your intentions. Or your well-meaning will. It just cares about how you can better it materially, at any cost. So you're taught to keep out of the way. Avoid confrontation "until it's your time." But your time never comes. And that's where it's beautiful. It's built to make you think your time will come and you'll have a great moment of redemption when you'll be able to say "HA! look at me now!"...but you never will. Very few ever do, and they have to sacrifice much to get there. And even when they get there, the system still manages to ignore them and belittle their accomplishments because they're not part of the system. No matter how equal or superior the ground may be to the system, the system will convince the other sheep that you are the one who is wrong. That it is jealousy. Envy. Perversion. The system doesn't lose. It always wins. It must always win. And even when it "changes" for the better, it doesn't actually change according to the will of the sheep. No, it changes according to its own will and at its own pace.

So they say join them if you can't beat them. Fuck that I say. Just live and fuck them. Live as you see fit, and fuck the system. Don't acknowledge it. And that terrifies the system. The people who get outside of the system and simply refuse it. The matrix makes sense in that light as well. Perhaps it wasn't an allegory of the dangers of human hubris, but rather a commentary on the "system" of society. It makes beautiful sense as such. The system will force try to force you to play by its rules, even if that means making you an opponent within itself because that's the only thing it knows. It knows nothing else. It can't. It's not smart enough. And that's where it's flaw is. It presumes that it has no weak links. But the fact that it exists at all is a weakness. The only and biggest it could possibly have.

I don't want to fret the small stuff anymore. It's so easy to get caught up in the details and forget the big picture. And it's so easy to try and focus on the big picture so much that it inevitably becomes nothing but a large detail in its own right. Hedonism amuses me. Intelligence amuses me. If a man wants to live all day and fuck a horse and gets immense pleasure from that, why should intelligence object to that? Assume he's not hurting the horse, what is wrong with that? Sure he's not contributing to society as a whole, but he's not negatively contributing either. He just is. And that is beautiful. Yet extremely stupid at the same time.

What you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful...Run away.

I want to wake up on a cloud and fall to my death. I want to look at myself while I'm falling and realize the meaning of life. I want to rise above the futility of it all and wake up right before I hit the ground. I love music. Sex and the concept of "sex sells" is very humorous in a pathetic sort of way.

"I sleep with this new girl i'm still getting used to
my friends all approve, say she's gonna be good for you
they throw me, high fives"

They all approve...once again, all about approval and affirmation. Music is very profound. The melodies of music can say more than words ever could. Coltrane; few people know that name now days. That's sad. When a song is playing and the greens mix with the blues, and the yellows come in to carry the bridge, and the whole thing becomes a soft dark blue shadow...it's absolutely the closest to truth about anything I think we'll ever get. I believe there is nothing more pure or true in this world than music. Then again, I would argue that there's no room for limp dicks on Mars as well. That seems very true. Very profound. 

Marijuana confounds me. I don't see why it's illegal. Then again I don't care. It's just part of the system. You know, I wish we could all just step back my friend. Backbeat that the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out. They start off very similarly. I crave a cigarette. A good glass of jack and a cigarette, with the sun going down and the perfect temperature outside, with only a hint of a cool breeze. I long for the good times of last year. I love for the positive experiences. Nostalgia gets to me. I'm very nostalgic. I'm afraid to fly on airplanes, yet I realize it's a useless fear. You're my wonderwall. Two for two is four yet who is going to chase Alice down the watering hole? The white rabbit is missing a food and the monocle is looking broken all the same. There is no sound on the deck except for the night and the light of the stars, the smell of the salt water and the breath of the ocean as it swallows you into the ever-expanding oblivion. They tell you it's vast yet not limitless, but I'd argue otherwise. How do we know? It's all about perception, and perception fails us. 

I like the Fray. I like the piano. Wish I could play the piano like the black cat on groundhog day. With Bill Murray riding through the streets of New Orleans with Kind of Fire jumping at his heels. Lets re-arrange, I wish you were a stranger I could disengage. I want to know myself on an subconscious level, find another friend and lose the cable car down the San Francisco street as blood drips from the knife in his hand as she watches. There's only eight seconds left and the ball goes between the posts, its in, they all cheer, yet what has he really accomplished? He'll go and drink himself to sleep tonight and play a big man tomorrow, yet none of it will last. We all die and the crows will sing us to wherever the hell it is we all go. If we go anywhere. Who cares really? We worry about that too much. I want to jump the grand canyon. I want to drink the ocean. To feel the sun on my skin and climb a mountain. To live as if I never existed and as if I never will. I want to know why I am who I am. I fear I will fail in everything I do and it worries me. Yet at the same time I can't worry too much about it. My fears cripple me yet my apathy and laziness drive me forward. It's a beautiful cycle. I'm a cynic. I'm a coward. I worry. And yet I go on. We all go on. Just like the last time, and yesterday, and last night, and as we will tomorrow. We march to our tune and climb those green melodies as they turn to a golden yellow hue and drop into an oblivion more daunting and at the same time welcoming than a thousand suns bursting into a supernova. 

I like it. I like everything. I'm ok with the world for now. I'm ok with being. And that's good. I want to fuck a supermodel until my dick falls of an never stop until they drag me away. I want to drink a bucket of salt and wake up in a jail cell with my pants around my ankles in small white underwear, slightly stained yellow from when I pissed myself the night before. And I want to read the Bible right then and there. Not for moral sake. Just because it seems like something to do. It seems like the perfect time. They'll all look and say "wow, he's really changed. He feels remorse" and I'll laugh and think "why didn't Jesus just fly and shoot lightning all the time.' And fucking drowned Peter. He was a useless sack of shit. They all were. If you teach a man to fish he'll still be fucked because you never gave him a fishing rod. How is he supposed to fish without a tool? The red nectar of life and the world drips slowly into our buckets and we collect it like good little soldiers, desperately seeking daddy's approval and smiling when he pats us on the head. And all the while he is burning our backs with his yellow lighter, grinning as we twitch and writhe in pain. And yet we wait for the bucket and the dripping. Even maple trees have it better than this. The yellows are powerful. They're bright. They can obscure and hide. There are people who fear the color yellow. It's fucking hilarious

"By the time I recognize this moment

This moment will be gone

But I will bend the light, pretend that it somehow lingered on"

I would live inside of John Mayer's body so I can feel what a racist dick feels like. I wonder if it likes wantons? Probably not. And yet we go on, and we shine our shoes and pay the little street urchin for the paper which just goes to tell us the greens and reds will never mix. They can't meld. They're not as good as the yellows. My mind is very filled with colors. It's focused on the things it shouldn't be. And yet I like it like that. It lends me sanity in the only way I recognize. 

There's so much sacred in the month of June.

Tonight, not again

"Smell the childhood remnants of the dusty weeping willow"

Very beautiful line.

I want to be able to write from the subconscious. Stream of consciousness is very fascinating. It's very intriguing how people are able to create such amazing works of art and make it seem so natural.

Music writer fascinate me. The work it takes to create the perfect blend of lyrics with meaning and make them relateable to everyone is just insane.

"Well if you should nervously break down
When its time for the shakedown would you take it
It's when you cry just a little but you laugh in the middle that you've made it
And don't it feel allright. and don't it feel so nice? "

I like that a lot. It's very uplifting. Lately I find myself in a weird limbo mentally speaking. Everything is fine. Nothing is wrong. But nothing is particularly interesting or "right" so to say. Everything just sort of is. And it's a positive sort of "is" though. I'm looking forward to spring break. Not sure what that'll bring, but I figure it'll be interesting. I want to read. I want to read all the books I can think of in an instant, yet be able to fully feel the experience of actually reading the book and having read the book at the same time. It's confusing. I love books. The physical act of owning a book is just...there's something very special about it. The smell, the feel, the sound of pages. It's a very comforting thing. It's as if when everything else is going wrong, books are always there and constant and same. There's something very comforting about that.

I want to know people more. I want to know people on a more personal level. Find out about them. Talk to them. I love the stage of relationships (friendship/romantic/etc) where you're just getting to know the person. There's something very magical and exciting about that. It's very refreshing. And I want to do nothing but talk to people. And listen to them. And hear their views. And tell them mine. And change them. And adapt them. 

I really like Jason Mraz's music. I also like Robert Pattinson's music. It's very bluesy and tortured-soul type of music. Like the old blues. "Mraz" means frost in most Slavic languages. 

I want to do everything and be involved in everything, yet I'm too lazy and lethargic to do any of it. I love the dreaming stage. I want to dream things up, and come up with ideas, and then see them implemented without having to put any of my effort in. But I want it done my way and want to experience it.

Now that ALMUN's over, it's a very bittersweet moment. I hated ALMUN near the end. It gave me headaches and a queasy stomach to think about it, but I don't think it was the stress. I realized it was the fear that was making me feel that way. I had come to believe that I failed in the expectations for the conference, and that I would let down not only the club members, but the sponsors and students, and leave the conference even off than it was before I ever took it on. And it terrified me. I wanted nothing but the best for this conference, and near the end, I began to believe that I couldn't give it what it needed and deserved. And it scared the hell out of me. So I ran. And I gave up. And I complained and I quit. I took the coward's way out because I wasn't strong enough to face the possibility of having failed. And that scares me. It says a lot about me as a person. And I always thought that when it came to situations such as that, I'd be able to step up. But over the past year a lot has changed.

I rarely talk to my parents anymore. It scares me. I don't think I'm handling the transition into this new phase of life as well as I thought I would when it came. It came so suddenly and so subtly that I feel like I didn't even realize what was happening before it happened. I love a good beer. A nice, rich, dark beer just sits so right. It's very comforting. Not even for the alcohol. Can't explain it. 

I've been trying to find the balance between not caring about the minor and the unimportant, and yet caring enough so that I don't come of as lethargic and apathetic. I'm not apathetic. That's not it. It's just that I can't stand to see the people, and the system, and the world in general, in such a state as it is. I can see possible solutions for all of it, yet each one of them has an unintended negative consequence. It's like, I can't stand to watch the world so close to perfection yet so far away, yet at the same time I can't do anything about it. It's the worst Catch 22. 

I'm looking forward to being able to afford a new guitar. Already have her in mind. I miss playing guitar. It's very...it's hard to explain. Music really does seem like the glue that holds the world together. It makes so much of our life. Emotions. Mental State. Thoughts. It's so intertwined into every part of our life that I don't think I even realize the full scope of it. I really want to get to know the different people on campus who work on different styles of music and learn from them. I want to do so much. Now that I'm about to enter my last year of college, I see how much I've wasted and how much potential it had. But I don't think it would have made any difference. Hindsight and all that. 

"If all is grounded, you should go make a mountain out of it."

I like that quote a lot. Very self empowering. I worry about my health. About the unforeseen that could happen and change my life forever. Yet I know I can't do anything about it and it's pointless. I really want to learn to write computer code. I'd love to be computer savvy and do a hacker-esque job for my "9-5."

I like marijuana.

Maybe I'll sleep when I'm dead

"Everyone needs to chill the fuck out and worry about their own business." - Daniel Brasher


I like that. But at the same time it worries me. How can one NOT worry about others. After all, with even the most minute bit of empathy, how could we not worry about others. 


I was engaged in a discussion last night. It was particularly negative or positive for me because it elicited no emotional reaction, but it was enlightening. It came up during a commercial in which President Obama was mentioning about how we need to help the poor in America. The other person agreed with that (which I mean, how could one not, right?) and then went on to say that we should focus on helping Americans instead of giving our aid and our hard earned money to other countries such as Haiti (to cite an example). This struck me as odd though. I mean surely the suffering that is currently going on in Haiti can in no way be compared to the suffering of the poor in America. Granted there have to be a few cases that are similar, but on the overall large scale, that would be preposterous I want to say. I mean at least the homeless here can go to wal-mart for heat. They have the availability of shelters and food...have someone to beg for money by the side of the road. In Haiti, there is no one to beg because everyone is by the side of the road, if by 'the side of the road' you mean a giant heap of garbage, human waste, and petulance. Yet this person also went to say that we should perhaps stop giving money to African countries who squander it. The person claimed that they are just whining and just need to stop fighting over trivial stuff, which would then solve all their problems. For sake of a more "close to home example," I invoked the circumstances under which I myself was raised, primarily a useless civil war between three ethnic groups that threatened complete ethnic cleansing of one race completely. If American and other nations had not intervened in this and simply "let them stop whining and stop fighting," I may very well not be here now. And the truth is, what seems like just random 3rd world fighting to us int he west, could very well just be one or more sides fighting for their lives and defending their right to live and breathe from an oppressive third party. Now granted much money and aid sent overseas needs to be re-centered and re-channeled because unfortunately much of it does go to fund negative things, but on the large scale, that aid also helps millions, MILLIONS of people make it through every day. Now I'm not saying that we need to ignore our own domestic problems, but just take a different look at it. Stop the corporate outsourcing that promotes the wealth of few for the sake of many. Stop tax cuts for the extremely wealthy...etc. There are many ways and way too many political ideologies to consider. What I'm getting at, however, I think, is that 'everyone needs to chill the fuck out and worry about their own business" is a very disturbing phrase.


It lulls you into a false sense of security, thinking you can agree with it because it just makes sense logically, right? But it offers so many pitfalls. 


I get much angrier these days. I don't like it. It reminds me of the days when I practically functioned on a hair trigger. And I'm starting to become obsessed with psychotic thoughts. And psychopathy in general. My dreams are starting to take on a very interesting, yet disturbing theme. Each night, I find new and progressively more brutal ways to maim, and kill people in my dreams. But I'm not worried. It's always in defending someone I care about. What is strange however is how much I absolutely enjoy it. I revel in the feeling of actually beating someone with a baseball bat until they are nothing but pulp. And that's a bit worrisome. 


"Who says I can't be free from all of the things I used to be? 
Rewrite my history; who says I can't be free?"


I think I genuinely love my girlfriend. And I find it strange that I'm not worried about that like most people seem to be at this age.


I go through extreme mood swings. I laugh hysterically for no reason, and I fly off the handle for even smaller things. I feel like I've burned out. I want to be involved with everything, and master everything there is to know. I want to gain knowledge and skill above all else. Yet I don't have the time or the capability. I'm starting to realize my own limits, and what's scary is that they're much lower than I would have liked or thought them to be. It's like I'm slowly slipping into mediocrity without even realizing it. I envy men like Leonardo de Vinci. 


I feel like I'm being pulled between two worlds, one where I have to dress appropriately, talk appropriately, assume certain responsibilities for the sake of assuming them, and socialize in certain ways, and the other where I just want to walk around all day long in my pajama pants and old t-shirts without showering, just smoke large amounts of weed, and drink a lot of Caucasians. I guess that's the part of getting to the age of graduating and becoming "an adult." What a stupid term though. Adult. 


What does that even mean? Why should we have to be in one world or the other? Why is society structured in such a way? It sets you up to follow its path no matter how hard you try to get out. The only way to get out it seems is to forsake all ties and close relationships and be on your own. But is the freedom really worth it that much? I read somewhere recently that to give man choice is to take away his freedom. I like that. 


I rarely talk to my parents anymore, and that worries me. I love my parents. I never see them anymore. And they're getting older. It's scary. They no longer hold that position of awe that they once did. I mean they are still my parents and I am amazed by them, but it's like frailty has set in on them. They're no longer insurmountable giants, supermen who can withstand anything. 


"And I'm afraid to sleep because of what haunts me, such as living with uncertainty."


And yet strangely, I find the uncertainty and the depression and the angst and the anger, and all the other rational and emotional thoughts to be very refreshing. Like a biting cold in the morning that slaps you and brings you wide awake. 


For now, I'll pour a shot and take it one day at a time. I have a fish to feed and class to get to. And so it goes. 

The Who

"I am the new generation of masturbator. I’ve seen it all." - John Mayer

I find myself in a very evanescent state currently. I'm tired, yet want no sleep. I want to do work, yet have no will to bring myself to do any of it. I'm procrastinating yet am anxious about doing it.

I think about people and the state of the world, the country, the state, and I find myself disgusted. What is it about human nature that makes us so vile toward one another. Even with all the good, and all the heart, and all the potential, what makes us so conniving and evil, and heartless at times? Why can we feel sad at one moment, and yet be ecstatic and overjoyed the next? What makes us work like this?

How can reason control certain emotions and urges, yet be completely naked and defenseless against others? What's the point of emotions? And yet what a stupid question to ask.

"Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That's the time you must keep on trying"

I'm unsure of myself, yet annoyed that I'm subject to the same base insecurities and emotions as everyone else. I like to consider myself above others, yet find that in many circumstances I am worse than anyone I speak against. I am a hypocrite. Who?

The Who, you know the band. They're playing the super bowl this year. I want to be able to write stream of consciousness, yet I know I can't. My skills as a writer are nowhere near good enough. And that bothers me. I want to be good at everything, yet rarely succeed. So I give up or fail to even try, and simply convince myself that  would have been good had I tried and take on an air of superiority without actually accomplishing anything. 

I have over 50 pages of English to read for tomorrow, and yet I can't stop procrastinating. And what good is sex for anyway? It feels good at times, but at other times it can be burdening. And then when its over, it just feels weird that the body would overpower the mind over something so insignificant. 

You know I've never seen the Godfather. And the healthcare bill debate bothers me. I find people who oppose socialized healthcare to be moronic. I don't understand the conservative mindset on most social issues. And why is sale of sexual toys in Alabama illegal and must be funneled through the "medical use" clause? I mean who cares if Joe down the street is diddling himself with a fake vagina. People are fucking morons. 

You know, they played all those songs. Who? The who...I'm sure I'm misquoting it, but oh well. 

You know I heard a quote once that said there's no room for limp dicks on mars. To this day, that to me personally is the only true statement I've ever heard. It is the most real and substantial thing I've ever heard, and the only thing that makes sense no matter what. 

I wonder what their set list is going to consist of...?