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.