Monday, November 30, 2009


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.

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.

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.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

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.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

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.

Friday, November 20, 2009


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.

Monday, November 2, 2009

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
I'm just a plastic bag drifting in the ocean, just waiting to be eaten by a sea turtle.