Oh god!( I thought of you again)
[11:30 p.m alone out in the snowy night and smoking]

Separate occasion, different person.
My chest hurts, symptoms of surviving a past tragedy.
If only, if only, oh well, I'm not bleeding anymore, it's only tender now.

Please do not tear the stitches.

And do not make me go with new wounds.

If that is even possible.

What do I want, are you a friend I want to risk procreation with?
I will, if you will.
We can play house,
make shooting star wishes,
play on the jungle gym
and see who can swing the highest.

We can be adults too, I can
talk to you about philosophy and drink coffee at the cafe,
here we can race heartbeats and sit close enough to smell each other,
to know who's pillow is who's and feel less lonely by a simple, but beautiful smell.
I would use your pillow when you have to go away.

I want you be free and equal and to do as you please as long as your loyal and honest.
That is my only request.

Midnight lonely, moments of transcendence and visitation,
Moments of delirium beget moments of deep rooted desire,
Wanting, wishing, consumed by nightlight daydreams,

Isolation.

Vacancy is the meme of solitude
and solitude is a choice.

Is this true?

Solitude is a disposition.
Proximity lovers are complacent, I'm not.
Maybe this is why most lovers are adversaries.

I do not want an adversarial lover.
I just want to share.

Purging

Lately, I have lost connection to humanity.
It seems that everyone is consumed by some fiction or another.
I fill my head with escapes. I act like a robot at work to see how people respond,
at work I also think about Truth, not truth, but Truth. I have concluded that Truth does exist, but moral Truth does not. The first reason is because if I were to say that there is no Truth is to make a fallacy of inconsistency. But to say that there is no moral truth this fallacy does not occur.
This is but not only because morality is subjective. There is no absolute morality, but rather a multitude of morals. Morals and pragmatism blur into each other, but there is no god.
Since there is no god there is no divine moral truth and since there is no moral truth there is only pragmatism. The illusions do not make it true. By illusions I mean believing in something that is not real, as in God. God is real. God is real in the mind of the believer. Just like the earth was once flat and the center of the universe. Just like the three monotheistic religions. Religion is merely a mechanism for surviving the briefness of our life.

Ahem.. I did no mean for that tangent against religions, but seriously religion sucks.

Anyways my conclusions on Truth is that it is real, but I'm far from grasping it.

On to a new subject.

Love.
So far I've decided Love is an emotion. People connect on a close level and care for each other. What is close? I imagine that it is two people who live in similar worlds. As a result the two living together creates a less lonely existence. Caring is important because it creates a mutual benefit. Reciprocal altruism is key to a healthy relationship.
I'm afraid that admiration for another is not love, but only an appreciation. Although a mutual admiration seems amazingly explosive and congruous with Love. Love is real, but it is important to keep love realistic and to not make it into a concept outside of manifestation. If love is real it is never going to be a fantasy, thus be careful not to make it as such or you will never fall in love.

Next and final vomit.

Gender.
It's culturally relative. It's stupid and it is harmful.
It is a result of sexual dimorphism, dichotomy of physical features falsely justifies social stratification and bigotry.

I mostly feel androgynous and asexual.
I am not emotionally attached to my sexuality, but I do know that I enjoy sharing sexual experiences with a female body more than a male.
Although, lately I have been disinterested in having sex, strangely enough it's sort of a sad imagery in my head. Off putting.

Nite Jewel -Good Evening (2009)


Some entertaining pseudo-eighties "hauntology". Really I do enjoy it,
sometimes her voice is annoying, but I learned to accept it.
It is music that transports you to some night club that maybe should or should not exist.
I imagine purple lights, a strobe light, a fog machine and drugged people drinking Manhattans and dirty martinis. There would be only a few brave/ drunk people dancing. I would be chair dancing and drinking a Manhattan.
Apparently the artist dropped out of college in Los Angeles, she was attempting to get a degree in philosophy. Instead she made an album. Hipster.

http://www.mediafire.com/?fmmxgantlvz

Sometimes it hurts to see you with another person.

I know we are just friends, but I am one of the only people that really cares about you,
it is some thing that is rare, just to let you know.

Maybe I am to blame for letting myself be this way with you , maybe I should just hide

somewhere far from humanity; being alone is easier than suffering some longing for closeness.

I am almost certain that I need to destroy part of me in consideration of our friendship.

Dislodged

I sit in my bed and I repeat life once lived, moments of joy and sorrow.
I listen to music and I stare out my window, looking at the people eight stories below, the dead trees, the vast blue abyss of the sky. At night I stare at the lights, the behemoth clusters of lights, each with some human inside, some person.

I listen to the people out side of my room, they brag about sex, boast about scores in a video game,
complain about their girlfriend, these people, they seem to have something going for them.
They are satisfied with hedonism, distraction, joy of nothing, sex and somehow they are having fun.

I sit in my bed alone. I would join, but I despise them. They are living the fictitious fantasy called college, here I am.
I live in some fiction, tired of life, but anticipating some future, some dream, some something to make life real and worth the effort. It seems dangerous to become immersed in seclusion, but I do it anyways. I occasionally interact with the social world and others, but mostly I lose interest.
Everyone is filling space with small talk and laughing about absurdities.

I wish I knew what my goal is, but really so far it has just been to make it to my death.

Today I went to a forensics lecture, she showed image after image of murders, suicides, accidents and every sort of death.

I saw a woman with her throat slashed, I could see the vertebrae. I saw a man's arm slit by his own doing, hesitant cuts, then one deeper, then the fatal slash to the bone.

I learned that the best way to commit suicide is to hang myself and the best way to kill is to poison.

Then I look around myself, at least one or two suicides a week in Kansas. Images after images and I realized that this dream is a veneer that is easily destroyed; the abandonment of existence is terrible, but only to the living.

So life moves on and so do I.

Today I got a Japanese import, a gift. I smiled as I imagined giving to you.

I am listening to music from India,
Freshly drained, exotic fantasies and drone.
I watch the minutes melt away, my life melts
I think about the people who don't do what they
need to because they are too busy being hedonistic.
Here I am masturbating, but mostly staying still
and melting.

Motivation is a hard thing to find.
Especially when I am content with doing nothing.
It is basically what I want to do with my free time.
My haven, my bed, my vessel to slumberland and my throne to the
internet.
I'm just a plastic bag drifting in the ocean, just waiting to be eaten by a sea turtle.

It's funny how we all wish we were with some one.
Or at least I think it is that way.
Sometimes I liked to be kissed on the cheek to know I'm kissable.
I know it is all a trick, but I can't help but see love as the most valuable thing to our existence.
I'm gay for Camus.

Oh geez, I suppose we are all lonely.

something just seems wrong about this, why did we evolve to be this way?

Life is what it is.

All I can say is that in every cynic is a hopeless romantic.

BPHBSI

Brutal.
Punishment.
Horror.
Begging.
Suffering.
Invisible.

Invisible; some lost dream.
Suffering; dreams.
Begging; hoping for a dream come true.
Horror; dreams come true.
Punishment; living the dream.
Brutal; dying for one.

sometimes life is only the invisible, then i am punished by my mistake.
I was horrified by the realization that it was all an illusion.
I have begged for meaning, but I suffered the conclusion.
I suffer from these dreams of the past, some lost figment.

What is brutal is the death of love.
Punishment for believing in an alternative to
the horror of emptiness.
I have begged for some resolution,
only to suffer in silence.
I realize that what i love is invisible.

Diamond Mountain, destroyer
of prized adornment,
Diamond Mountain, blinding
beauty of might, the destroyer
of adornment and worth.

Ocean of Gold, ever enduring
brilliance, swallows the riches of
the shallow.
Ocean of Gold, infinite
brilliance, swallow the vessel
of Caste, Greed and Pride.

Sometimes I feel cliche.

I've been eating pizza and nibbling on cookies,
I'm starting to like sweet things.
I realized I went vegetarian for over a month.
I have been eating meat for a couple days and I can't tell if I dislike it any more
than I enjoy it.
I have become really into eating my vegetables.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
I dream and dream and dream.
I dream of someone waking me with kisses,
I dream of kissing someone on the neck and
I dream of being close enough to feel the warmth of someone.

Someone; the anyone but the people around me.
Some reoccurring dream and phantom of my nights.

Today I read a quote " the cave you fear entering holds the treasure you seek".
I almost felt inspired.

This and that.

Yesterday a girl was assaulted and raped in my residence hall, I heard people say that it is impossible, but what about Kittie Genevieve.
Today has been rainy, wet and pretty, but something seemed missing.

I have been falling into a crush with someone I don't even know. Sometimes
I think that the fantasy is all I really want.
I saw here today and my desire had vanished. Sometimes the fantasy is all that really matters.

I'm not sure anymore.
It is really easy to fall through the ice, underneath is the void of meaning.
At least that is how I feel.

Sometimes I feel I need a cheerleader, someone to rise might and give me what I need to continue.
Life continues and so do I, in the end I exist.
Nothingness can be a bitch.

I covet. I also have bad memory.

Remember once you are blessed with money to aquire a

D490 USSR Russian 35mm camera LOMO LC-A COMPACT Automat

Horrendous Beauty/ Impossible dream boat

Relieved from your clothing,
I imagine
vertically splitting
you.
Right down the middle
of your chest with an axe.
I would see your heart,
pumps and valves starving
for more of what keeps you alive,
your porcelain skin, rose pedals on
snow.
You would make no sound.
The pain is less than you have suffered before,
I would look you in the eyes, we would
stare into each other.

Numbness consumes the pain
and intoxicating endorphins
lift your spirit.
I lose grip of my weaponry.

Slowly I walk towards you,
keeping a humble cadence.
I stopped, our faces were blurred.
We comfortably closed the world out,
we were left with the geometric patterns that
reside in us all.
I could easily hear your soft breath,
my hands warm and wet, I embrace
you internally, my arms warm and wet.
My lips feel yours and neither one of us
wanted this moment to end, but
I selfishly opened my eyes
and the self was all that remained.

going for the gold

A person wrote,
"Chase after that which is worthless and become worthless".
I wanted to say something, but I knew he would not understand.
Blinded by faith, he could not see that we are all.

I don't want to chase worth.
I hate the word worth.
I don't like seeing my world
in binary, Even if worth is a scale,
the subjectivity is
crushing.

Disassociation.

IF sight is the result of rods and cones interpreting electromagnetic radiation,
smell the result of volatile chemicals breathed(taste is similar), touch the electron pulse triggered by matter and sound is the result of compression of gas, liquid or plasma, then I am merely a crude instrument.

If all that I said is true, then my mind, my brain is
all that I am.

If matter is in the end energy, then we all are the same energy.

Knowledge only exists in the mind, history and text electromagnetic radiation, words compression of energy, our body system is only energy.
Identity is an accumulation of these things.

Identity is merely an attachment to experience.
(Thoughts are an experience.)
I don't know what this means in the end.

Some call this divinity, divinity is bound to the third law of thermodynamics.
Entropy is the eventual end. After that there will only be stillness.

Casper David Friedrich, Old Abbey in Oak Woods, 1809

Golden bands of morning cast the topography of her body,
I catch myself.
Warmth heals me and the kiss cleanses.
And I want to make this atheist cry to god,
but instead I remain still.

Stillness is a virtue and to see what is actual,
to love the present aesthetic
to lose oneself to
the moment.

When I came to
she had hit the vanishing point.

I almost knew her name.
Her voice nearly breathed a memory,
Instead her face was smeared or absent.

Some days the birds are silent,
sometimes she can make them sing.

Stillness is crushing and crushing is stillness.





Man Ray -Retour à la raison

In lawrence everyday is happy hour.

1.75 Hamms
2.00 PBR
4.50 Manhattans

The only down side is that these places that offer cheap beer cost at least 3 dollars to enter.
Although good music usually hides within the walls of these buildings.

I have yet to figure out the purpose of this post.

Love is an illusion of dreams

Tonight I saw a hip to the hop show.
nothing fruitful. I would give up if I had something to give.
I'm in love with a person I do not know.
Love is always on hold for myself.
Do you like to hurt, I do , i do, i do.
I'm torn between love and love, of course I mean different loves.
Pure Chaos, Pure destruction ,Pure order.

Love is real, but so is hate.

For most of my day I was Trevor the misanthropist, but i dissolved.
I feel better now, after a discussion in my western civilization class. We discussed the trial of Socrates. My imagination was rampant today. I thought a female's head was a skull for a second, in archaeology I imagined people having sex on the linoleum floor whilst my professor professed and I imagined that a newspaper stand was on fire. I feel I have too many missed connections with people, there was a girl I wanted to talk to, but all I could say was "can I use your lighter, thank you".
I spied on her and watched her watch people and write in her journal. She seemed like she was in the same feeling as I.

Hey I like this album, you could too!



"http://dc101.4shared.com/download/119429413/81ee67c5/Chemical_Chords.rar?tsid=20090903-013121-3720f088"

First Post.

I've decided to abandon my livejournal, I feel that it has died. The death was of the purpose/ audience I was targeting, they left. I think that the subject matter will vary slightly, but I think this will turn out to be a profitable endeavor.
If you are ever curious and wish to read my old LJ just message me.
I think that I will post here what I don't want on facebook and/or anywhere else.

Be prepared for musings, music, art and other self indulgent shit.
Although this shit is subsistence.

Here are some paintings I enjoy.

Ferdinand Holder- Night 1889-90



James Abbott McNeill Whistler, Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket, 1875.



Manet, A Bar at the Folies-Bergeres, 1891-82