Tuesday, October 6, 2009
A Dream
For some reason I'm feeling nervous and scared today. My whole body is shivering with anxiety for some unknown event. I feel it coming. It's right around the corner. I try to peak and get a glimpse but there is nothing there. I don't want it to happen. It's going to happen. Whether I want it to or not, it's down the road and I'm running right at it. Please, be aware of what may come and what may pass.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
A Random Entry #2
Raise your left hand and repeat after me:
"I [Insert Name] am condemned to love and be loved. I will act with zealous benevolence. I will commit acts of lustful charity. I will not fit in with crowds, but I will respect the social norm. No one shall fall prey to my heels unless respectively deserving. None shall be graced with my unwilling judgment unless they have graced me. Those that call out my true name shall be granted deaf sight and blind hearing. Those that call out my false name shall be gifted muted thought and befuddled speech. Above all else, though, I shall come to appreciate the three imperfect truths of analog thought: I am the incarnate of an indefinite singularity; I am the fringed writing in a burning book; I will find myself alone more often than not. With these I march forward with stone feet and volcanic hands, trying to topple to ivory king."
You can now lower your hand and sit down.
"I [Insert Name] am condemned to love and be loved. I will act with zealous benevolence. I will commit acts of lustful charity. I will not fit in with crowds, but I will respect the social norm. No one shall fall prey to my heels unless respectively deserving. None shall be graced with my unwilling judgment unless they have graced me. Those that call out my true name shall be granted deaf sight and blind hearing. Those that call out my false name shall be gifted muted thought and befuddled speech. Above all else, though, I shall come to appreciate the three imperfect truths of analog thought: I am the incarnate of an indefinite singularity; I am the fringed writing in a burning book; I will find myself alone more often than not. With these I march forward with stone feet and volcanic hands, trying to topple to ivory king."
You can now lower your hand and sit down.
A Random Entry
You expose yourself to everyone and you love it, Prometh, you're an idiot. You think you're some grand thing yet you're just like me, so calm down and enjoy. Toke up a bit.
Don't go telling me how to live my life...dude.
No one is telling you how to live your life.
Good, so let's keep it that way.
I'm just saying you keep up that mentality and you'll be dead by thirty-four. A stomach ulcer. They creep up on you.
Whatever.
Eh.
Eh.
-
I guess you're right.
-
Yeah, you are right.
I told you. Think about things before you jump or something.
I never jump!
Man, you are always jumping. Jump here. Oh, wait, I want to jump there. It's a cycle with you.
Well, I can't just stand still.
No, but try walking some time. Doctors tell me it's healthy.
Never was one for doctors.
Are you one for dying?
No.
Right.
Let's end this before it gets too confusing.
Don't go telling me how to live my life...dude.
No one is telling you how to live your life.
Good, so let's keep it that way.
I'm just saying you keep up that mentality and you'll be dead by thirty-four. A stomach ulcer. They creep up on you.
Whatever.
Eh.
Eh.
-
I guess you're right.
-
Yeah, you are right.
I told you. Think about things before you jump or something.
I never jump!
Man, you are always jumping. Jump here. Oh, wait, I want to jump there. It's a cycle with you.
Well, I can't just stand still.
No, but try walking some time. Doctors tell me it's healthy.
Never was one for doctors.
Are you one for dying?
No.
Right.
Let's end this before it gets too confusing.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Monsoons
Yesterday I was hanging out on the roof of my house, and if you have never done this before, do it, because it will blow your mind, or at least it blew mine. You see there was a lightening storm going in the distance. I've seen plenty of thunderstorms and lightening storms in my life, but for some reason this one struck me dead in the heart. I guess it might be due to the fact that I have never really taken the time to just sit back for an hour or so and watch it. I'm always just looking at a storm for a few minutes, enjoying it, and then going about my business. Not this time though. Something was different this time and yet it made it so perfect.
The storm must have been a couple miles away from me, but it didn't really matter. It was the overall environment of the whole thing that was truly captivating. There were mountains in front of the clouds and every time lightening rained down it looked as if there were bombs going off in the distance. I sort of used my imagination a bit and put myself in a WWII scenario in London where I was actually watching Nazis bomb the town in the distance. Regardless it was a prolific experience. The point I am trying to make with all of this? People need to start slowing down and taking life millisecond by millisecond.
You have 24 hours in a day, but how many of those hours do you actually appreciate? Take this a step further and ask yourself the same thing with minutes. How about seconds? How about milliseconds? Etc. Etc. I don't know about you, anonymous reader, but I am always rushing around and planning things. Very rarely do I actually just sit down and do nothing for awhile. I never just sit and listen to the wind, or lay in the dirt and watch the clouds go by, which I did while I was on my roof. People get so wrapped up in their life that it can become hard to breath. My advice is to take a step back every now and again, breath, and just look around you at all the stuff you take for granted.
The storm must have been a couple miles away from me, but it didn't really matter. It was the overall environment of the whole thing that was truly captivating. There were mountains in front of the clouds and every time lightening rained down it looked as if there were bombs going off in the distance. I sort of used my imagination a bit and put myself in a WWII scenario in London where I was actually watching Nazis bomb the town in the distance. Regardless it was a prolific experience. The point I am trying to make with all of this? People need to start slowing down and taking life millisecond by millisecond.
You have 24 hours in a day, but how many of those hours do you actually appreciate? Take this a step further and ask yourself the same thing with minutes. How about seconds? How about milliseconds? Etc. Etc. I don't know about you, anonymous reader, but I am always rushing around and planning things. Very rarely do I actually just sit down and do nothing for awhile. I never just sit and listen to the wind, or lay in the dirt and watch the clouds go by, which I did while I was on my roof. People get so wrapped up in their life that it can become hard to breath. My advice is to take a step back every now and again, breath, and just look around you at all the stuff you take for granted.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Have Fun With It
It holds itself against my skin. I force it further against my warmth. For some reason it feels the need to cry out, so I let it. I sort of enjoy the sound of it. It's like vocal gasoline for the mind; fuel for the fuel injected.
I cradle the beast within my arms and begin to stroke its neck, like a mother with her child. I begin to whisper to it to calm the poor thing. "Hush, my love. You are scaring yourself." The body begins to quiet down. It feels the care contained in my voice. The altered sense of well being that everything is fine. "What I am about to do is purely for financial pleasure. A vacation from the norm, using you as my conduit."
The pink abomination continues to squirm in my hold. In response I reveal my utilities of operation. My meticulously cleaned knives. Not a single one with a scratch or dent. It would make my brother proud. He always claims I'm so messy, but really I'm just a guy. A mess can be a good thing. A mess can be a great thing. A mess can be a moment. A moment where you let yourself go.
I pick the smallest of the knives. I catch my reflection off the blade. My hair is still gelled from the previous night of female fondling. Breasts large enough to cause a riot. Women floating around in a room of male erections. All of them calling out for their primal fuck. Grab her by the hair. Pull. Let her know you are there. Let her feel your presence. Because that's what it is all about these days. Presence. And now I am going to let this young thing feel mine.
I place the knife against its skin. Anxiety begins to swell. A sea of fears and hopes that are now channeled through a piece of metal. "My children never cleaned their rooms when I told them to. I don't know why, but I feel it's very mature of them to stand up to me. The problem is that there is no one standing up for you now."
The epidermis is parted, creating my own unique red sea. I stop for a moment to watch the ruby liquid greet the air. I breath deeply, close my eyes, and begin to feel further. I meet the dermis and let it shake hands with pain. The subcutis suddenly finds itself sitting next to agony. Blood launches itself towards my face. A vein. The crowded tunnels of life. It cuts and spews outward. Ejaculated out. A facial of the best kind.
I cradle the beast within my arms and begin to stroke its neck, like a mother with her child. I begin to whisper to it to calm the poor thing. "Hush, my love. You are scaring yourself." The body begins to quiet down. It feels the care contained in my voice. The altered sense of well being that everything is fine. "What I am about to do is purely for financial pleasure. A vacation from the norm, using you as my conduit."
The pink abomination continues to squirm in my hold. In response I reveal my utilities of operation. My meticulously cleaned knives. Not a single one with a scratch or dent. It would make my brother proud. He always claims I'm so messy, but really I'm just a guy. A mess can be a good thing. A mess can be a great thing. A mess can be a moment. A moment where you let yourself go.
I pick the smallest of the knives. I catch my reflection off the blade. My hair is still gelled from the previous night of female fondling. Breasts large enough to cause a riot. Women floating around in a room of male erections. All of them calling out for their primal fuck. Grab her by the hair. Pull. Let her know you are there. Let her feel your presence. Because that's what it is all about these days. Presence. And now I am going to let this young thing feel mine.
I place the knife against its skin. Anxiety begins to swell. A sea of fears and hopes that are now channeled through a piece of metal. "My children never cleaned their rooms when I told them to. I don't know why, but I feel it's very mature of them to stand up to me. The problem is that there is no one standing up for you now."
The epidermis is parted, creating my own unique red sea. I stop for a moment to watch the ruby liquid greet the air. I breath deeply, close my eyes, and begin to feel further. I meet the dermis and let it shake hands with pain. The subcutis suddenly finds itself sitting next to agony. Blood launches itself towards my face. A vein. The crowded tunnels of life. It cuts and spews outward. Ejaculated out. A facial of the best kind.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
For A Friend
Her eyes moved quickly, as they had to match the speed of her hands, racing across the plane of white absence, creating explosions of color from a spectrum of creativity. Her mind was the only object in control of her world, her body merely a tool to express thoughts. A machine who’s purpose was only to destroy the white, pollute it with a color so vivid it could inspire a life. The woman was unsure of what was to be the result of these violent artistic actions. She was unsure as to what actually inspired these movements. She was simply driven on a carnal emotion of instinctual artistic nature.
Lines darting across the canvas, marking the place they land as their home, their permanent state of residence. These lines are nothing. They are pawns of a dangerously precise game of chess. These lines are everything. They are the basis for all survival in this world of angelic hues and demonic tones. Without these frivolous lines there would be no order among the woman’s world of chaotic thought. It would all fall apart, crumble and erode, only to be found at the bottom of the abstract ocean, a relic that never could survive in a modernistic age of time.
As her hands felt the tingled sensation of pain, from prolonged use, a voice broke her out of the dreamlike world. The angelic words were softly spoken, “That’s a beautiful picture.”
The woman batted her eyelashes, now realizing the work which had caused her mind to succumb from a break of reality. Her voice matched the soft tone of the one who destroyed her creative flow, “Thank you, it’s my house.”
“It is wonderful”, responded the unknown voice.
The woman chuckled to herself, “I really enjoy finger painting.”
“I understand that, but it is recess time. Don’t you want to go outside and play with your friends?”
The woman took one last look at her masterpiece, an artwork that could never be matched by any other preschooler, no matter how hard they tried. The woman’s sanity regained its hold on her mind, “I can’t wait to show my mom. I think she will love it.”
The unknown figure smiled and stated, “I’ll be sure to show her. Come now, go play with your friends.”
Lines darting across the canvas, marking the place they land as their home, their permanent state of residence. These lines are nothing. They are pawns of a dangerously precise game of chess. These lines are everything. They are the basis for all survival in this world of angelic hues and demonic tones. Without these frivolous lines there would be no order among the woman’s world of chaotic thought. It would all fall apart, crumble and erode, only to be found at the bottom of the abstract ocean, a relic that never could survive in a modernistic age of time.
As her hands felt the tingled sensation of pain, from prolonged use, a voice broke her out of the dreamlike world. The angelic words were softly spoken, “That’s a beautiful picture.”
The woman batted her eyelashes, now realizing the work which had caused her mind to succumb from a break of reality. Her voice matched the soft tone of the one who destroyed her creative flow, “Thank you, it’s my house.”
“It is wonderful”, responded the unknown voice.
The woman chuckled to herself, “I really enjoy finger painting.”
“I understand that, but it is recess time. Don’t you want to go outside and play with your friends?”
The woman took one last look at her masterpiece, an artwork that could never be matched by any other preschooler, no matter how hard they tried. The woman’s sanity regained its hold on her mind, “I can’t wait to show my mom. I think she will love it.”
The unknown figure smiled and stated, “I’ll be sure to show her. Come now, go play with your friends.”
Monday, December 8, 2008
Can We Ever Truly Understand?
One of the things that I have come to understand recently is that we never can truly understand another human being. We can never climb inside the mental processes of another person, walk around and view all of the facets that make up their internal makeup. There is always a layer that we simply cannot access, as if it was an impenetrable wall of mystery. Why is this? Why is it that humans feel the need to allow people into their life only to a certain degree? We are creatures of fear and mistrust, that much is obvious. We create lies and false truths, or half truths, to cover our weaknesses and faults. Why? We surround ourselves with people that only wish to care about us, it's only natural, and yet we cover ourselves with a blanket of security, not allowing anyone to see through it. It is mind boggling. The only logical reason that I can actually think of is that we, and by we I mean you yourself, cannot trust ourselves.
There are numerous points throughout my day that I am actually lying to myself, trying to trick my mind into thinking that it is happy and content. Why? Why is it that I cannot simply admit to myself that I do not enjoy this existence and simply wish for it to end? Now I do not wish to sound like a suicidal victim or anything, please do not take it as that. The only reason that I feel I need to lie to myself, and others for that matter, is that I do not truly understand happiness. It is an elusive concept that seems to always slip through my fingers. The more I try to grab for it and hold on the more it just fades through the cracks of my mind. Continuing on that logic, I simply create a pseudo happiness for myself to think and believe in, thus completing the constant quest for that fading idea of what it means to be happy.
I have recently been thinking more and more that relationships are a plague that has thoroughly infected our race. They cause us to break away from our simple and constant facade and actually attempt to reveal our actual self. Normally this would not be a problem but, humans are creatures of habit. What's our habit? Lying to ourselves. We must then reveal the truth to our own mind and then actually start to reveal ourselves to others. This messes with our usual routine to the point of utter confusion and the feeling of being stranded alone, or at least that is what I feel. Does this mean that I will stop being in a relationship? Certainly not, they are too enjoyable. I believe that is the eternal problem. Relationships are too healthy, and I'm not a healthy person.
There are numerous points throughout my day that I am actually lying to myself, trying to trick my mind into thinking that it is happy and content. Why? Why is it that I cannot simply admit to myself that I do not enjoy this existence and simply wish for it to end? Now I do not wish to sound like a suicidal victim or anything, please do not take it as that. The only reason that I feel I need to lie to myself, and others for that matter, is that I do not truly understand happiness. It is an elusive concept that seems to always slip through my fingers. The more I try to grab for it and hold on the more it just fades through the cracks of my mind. Continuing on that logic, I simply create a pseudo happiness for myself to think and believe in, thus completing the constant quest for that fading idea of what it means to be happy.
I have recently been thinking more and more that relationships are a plague that has thoroughly infected our race. They cause us to break away from our simple and constant facade and actually attempt to reveal our actual self. Normally this would not be a problem but, humans are creatures of habit. What's our habit? Lying to ourselves. We must then reveal the truth to our own mind and then actually start to reveal ourselves to others. This messes with our usual routine to the point of utter confusion and the feeling of being stranded alone, or at least that is what I feel. Does this mean that I will stop being in a relationship? Certainly not, they are too enjoyable. I believe that is the eternal problem. Relationships are too healthy, and I'm not a healthy person.
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