Working with people is better than alone. We find encouragement, perspective, and fulfilment when we work through people. Working with people around is a first step toward the goal of working through people, it is a necessary first step, but very much a surface adjustment. The more we work in the presence of others, the more we are exposed to their processes and routines. Through these routines we can compare ourselves, new opportunities are presented, and new processes adopted. Fresh thinking comes from thinking in different ways. Sometimes we might try to think in different ways by walking in the park, or taking a vacation. What these break allow us, is time and perspective. Working from a desk 8 hours a day affords only one perspective; that of a specialist. The more we walk, the more our perspective changes. But we are not limited to changing our perspective through walking. In the world of process and pursuits, it is not moving in space that concerns us. What we see when we look around at the world from our 8 hour desk is not seen with our eyes. Work is about processes and results. Should we remain in our processes and judge only our results, our ability to learn is significantly limited to our life time. How is it that a doctor can know all about the human body, or a construction work build a high-rise, or a manufacturer build a microchip, or a pilot fly a plane. These accomplishments are things that could never be achieved from scratch in one life time. These achievements take hundreds of life-times to be presented as options. So we see that working with people is not limited to simply the people around us, but the people of the past. Ultimately if we are to achieve anything, it will be because we are working with the people long dead. Likewise, if what we do is to have any longevity when we pass, we must ensure the ability for our processes and achievements to work with the people of the future.
Back to our 8 hour job. Working with the people around us includes the dead people who's work we are building, and the people who have yet to be who will build upon our results. Of course we also partner with the people in our offices or workplaces. Despite working with all of these people, we still remain in our own perspective. Its amazing how narrow the mind of a scientist can be. The people of the past you work with share your perspective, and the people around you as well. To gain a helpful perspective that is not our own, we must seek it out in the areas of concern with which we are not yet familiar. If we actually want to work with people, we can't limit those people to the ones who understand our processes and back story. We must open our pursuits to partners we haven't studied, hired, worked for, or worked with.
What we need is to work through people instead of working with them. With implies a division of focus. An engineer works with a designer, a doctor works with a nurse. We accept our roles and maintain our different perspectives because we believe it is the strongest most efficient form of work. This specialization has allowed for the industrial revolution, and technological production to ends we can't even fathom. Our pursuits have been more specialized, from the atomic to the chemical, to the biological, to the astronomical. The deeper we look, the less we understand. When I say we, what I really mean to say is we as individuals. This is a property of our language. We as individuals, is the same word as we as one. We, is a very different concept than me's. We begs us to understand that there is a space between individuals, and it is through this space we must now work.
Working through people sounds oddly religious. Some might say god works through people to act in righteous ways. We also work through problems, a process of investigation by place our perspective within the problem itself. Working through something is a dissolution of identity. Similarly, in the phenomenon of flow, the self is dissolved into the actions which we are familiar with. In this space between individuals(the work and the person) is an understanding. Some might say our frontal lobe is not working as hard, and that we cease to understand, or observe what we are doing, we are simply doing. What if instead of missing something, we are understanding something. The dissolution of identity is not a misunderstanding, but a deeper understanding. When we work through a problem, we don't become involved, we realize that we always have been involved.
There lies a space between a process and a person, this is flow. What if there was also a space between people? What if instead of working with people who compliment our skills, we worked through people who participate in our process. Musicians have this, this understanding. They play together. A choir has this understanding, they sing together. No one person is necessary, but without many the result is barren. What if our work could be such a song? Musicians share a process, they share a rhythm, a scale, a melody, and musical references. There is a rhythm of work, a scale of concern, a melody of planning, and cultural references on which we can build. What if instead of trying to work through people, we just realized we are? What could we achieve if we started listening to our own music?
Mar 20, 2009
Jan 12, 2009
Concerned
I am concerned. Concerned and excited. There is a real possibility, and a certainty, colliding. Never before have this many minds been connected. Never before have so many people spoken the same language. Never before have we been able to have such a long term effect on our own environment.
What I am so concerned about, and with, is the possibility we have, in this moment, to connect our efforts. These efforts, when de-coupled from the pursuit of separated profit might lead to a world we could not imagine; alone. Blocks remain, and remind us of the immense workload of such an undertaking. It is not a simple task, and may not even be a task of rewards felt by this generation. In this regard, we must seek our reward in the challenge. The very opportunity to approach this challenge has depended on millennia of building efforts.
To this end, what shall we do. It is clear we have the network in place. Our thinking is of the next millennia to come. Our hopes are for the next few decades. And our works over these years. Key in this pursuit is scale. A constant scale which enables specific individuals to propose, test, and revise plans. While a scale which takes from these efforts an overall structure, process, method, and engages more agents of such inclination. Growth must find itself within one person, one community, to far off lands and times. We must find systems and ways of working which allow for many minds, many approaches, and many lessons. Living in the midst of such efforts, we'll be encouraged by others, to inspire them once again.
We speak in small groups, we work on small projects, we envision vast possibilities, and an ever changing future. Our briefs are shared, and our results are diverse. Failing quickly and often, stumbling through with support from a safety-net, a network of ourselves.
Quite straightforwardly. I want to have people record all of their information in a format I can access an visualize. I then want to present these visualization to them in real time, hopefully influencing their actions. I then want to make these visualizations and the framework for recording actions public. I would hope that people apply the method to more actions in daily life, and also that we would have more ways of looking/hearing those actions.
This format would be all encompassing. It would store all actions and all data associated. This includes, images, text, events, purchases, locations, audio. In more useful terms, photos and places, parties and bands, driving routines and traffic, conversations, purchasing patterns.
When everyone is recording everything they do, they can have control of their patterns and change them. They could predict the probability of certain outcomes(places, purchases, beliefs). They could see who best to work with, and what to work on. They could see how to explain issues to each other, what they have in common, what they don't(haven't heard of or disagree with).
Recording everything comes out of a deeper desire; to see everything. I want to visualize what is happening. I want to understand it in many different ways, through many different systems of thought. I want to diagram, and believe that diagrams are the most holistic type of language we have. There has not been enough value attribute to diagrams partly because of the lack of literacy. Either way, to have people understand and use diagrams, to have people understand the system such diagrams represent would allow for a broad understanding of interconnection. We use maps to understand our cities, to navigate them. Our societies, knowledge stores, networks, priorities, values, and institutions are far more complex than a city, and we are certainly in a state of disorientation.
Data and diagrams. To understand systems in the abstract we make diagrams, usually processes, some times just hierarchies. To understand what is, and generalize information we make visualizations.
What I am so concerned about, and with, is the possibility we have, in this moment, to connect our efforts. These efforts, when de-coupled from the pursuit of separated profit might lead to a world we could not imagine; alone. Blocks remain, and remind us of the immense workload of such an undertaking. It is not a simple task, and may not even be a task of rewards felt by this generation. In this regard, we must seek our reward in the challenge. The very opportunity to approach this challenge has depended on millennia of building efforts.
To this end, what shall we do. It is clear we have the network in place. Our thinking is of the next millennia to come. Our hopes are for the next few decades. And our works over these years. Key in this pursuit is scale. A constant scale which enables specific individuals to propose, test, and revise plans. While a scale which takes from these efforts an overall structure, process, method, and engages more agents of such inclination. Growth must find itself within one person, one community, to far off lands and times. We must find systems and ways of working which allow for many minds, many approaches, and many lessons. Living in the midst of such efforts, we'll be encouraged by others, to inspire them once again.
We speak in small groups, we work on small projects, we envision vast possibilities, and an ever changing future. Our briefs are shared, and our results are diverse. Failing quickly and often, stumbling through with support from a safety-net, a network of ourselves.
Quite straightforwardly. I want to have people record all of their information in a format I can access an visualize. I then want to present these visualization to them in real time, hopefully influencing their actions. I then want to make these visualizations and the framework for recording actions public. I would hope that people apply the method to more actions in daily life, and also that we would have more ways of looking/hearing those actions.
This format would be all encompassing. It would store all actions and all data associated. This includes, images, text, events, purchases, locations, audio. In more useful terms, photos and places, parties and bands, driving routines and traffic, conversations, purchasing patterns.
When everyone is recording everything they do, they can have control of their patterns and change them. They could predict the probability of certain outcomes(places, purchases, beliefs). They could see who best to work with, and what to work on. They could see how to explain issues to each other, what they have in common, what they don't(haven't heard of or disagree with).
Recording everything comes out of a deeper desire; to see everything. I want to visualize what is happening. I want to understand it in many different ways, through many different systems of thought. I want to diagram, and believe that diagrams are the most holistic type of language we have. There has not been enough value attribute to diagrams partly because of the lack of literacy. Either way, to have people understand and use diagrams, to have people understand the system such diagrams represent would allow for a broad understanding of interconnection. We use maps to understand our cities, to navigate them. Our societies, knowledge stores, networks, priorities, values, and institutions are far more complex than a city, and we are certainly in a state of disorientation.
Data and diagrams. To understand systems in the abstract we make diagrams, usually processes, some times just hierarchies. To understand what is, and generalize information we make visualizations.
Dec 15, 2008
Interaction
Isolated. No other word can describe the absence of interaction and my life as such is a dead shell of what could be. The complete elimination of potential. Only look to the suburbs to show the immense loss of such a culture of interaction. Walking down the street with no passers-by, this is zero. To think that such a place exists where two parties of full attraction can be separated to the point of non-contact.
My life, a victim of this isolation could only end in the full embrace of the city. A mad house of potential. Enough is to appreciate the potential, to walk down a street 100 times without need to talk to the various people around, only to know that the possibility is there. Surely as well, the city dweller is trapped in the abundance of possible interactions, only to be left with a deficit of contact.
Increase the potential of interaction, and you are left with regret. Increase the act of interaction, or the incentives, or the commonalities between people, and you'll surely reap the rewards. People as social beings are designed for love, compassion, and most of all mutual acceptance. In a city of incomprehensible population, we can't even imagine what such a world could be. We are reminded daily of the fact we cannot know everyone. We cannot know the people we affect on a daily basis even in our city, how could we possibly understand our global strength.
Here I can say that a city of walkable streets, fairs far better in happiness than one of isolated steel barriers. Not sure of why, how, or what exactly is the barrier, but the unexpected should be embraced. To settle at the unexpected, and the potential is only to come half way. We must created new possibilities for serendipitous interactions, new ways of crashing into one-another.
My life, a victim of this isolation could only end in the full embrace of the city. A mad house of potential. Enough is to appreciate the potential, to walk down a street 100 times without need to talk to the various people around, only to know that the possibility is there. Surely as well, the city dweller is trapped in the abundance of possible interactions, only to be left with a deficit of contact.
Increase the potential of interaction, and you are left with regret. Increase the act of interaction, or the incentives, or the commonalities between people, and you'll surely reap the rewards. People as social beings are designed for love, compassion, and most of all mutual acceptance. In a city of incomprehensible population, we can't even imagine what such a world could be. We are reminded daily of the fact we cannot know everyone. We cannot know the people we affect on a daily basis even in our city, how could we possibly understand our global strength.
Here I can say that a city of walkable streets, fairs far better in happiness than one of isolated steel barriers. Not sure of why, how, or what exactly is the barrier, but the unexpected should be embraced. To settle at the unexpected, and the potential is only to come half way. We must created new possibilities for serendipitous interactions, new ways of crashing into one-another.
Oct 31, 2008
What's Next
Its good to think about what's next. It helps plan, it helps understand why we do what we do, it gives direction, it creates passion, it makes sense.
Its good when you don't know what's next. It means you're thinking, it breaks down barriers of thought, it allows you to do more, its freeing, it creates insight, it challenges.
Its good to know what came before. It gives you a base, its structures thought, it avoids circles, it builds, it creates context, it suggests.
Think about what came before, think about what's next, because you'll never know. All we can do here is make the best guess.
I need optimistic people. Not only optimistic, but creatively so. There is no point in me banging my head against a wall of pessimism only to end up with the same outcome. I want my work to be a constant wondering, a worthy journey. So many times I've felt that if people could understand my vision we could agree. I don't want to be in the business of convincing. I want to work with a group of people who simply believe the same things as me. I don't want to hinder others, I simply want to help myself. Nothing comes from nothing. Work is the essence of growth. I work a great deal, and don't mind. I want to work, I want to be of use to others. With this work I take a certain conviction. I feel I have a role.
The following is a following. It follows my thought. I am a narrative in the form of a person, this is my trail of wondering.
I have a hunch, this hunch is one of a greater purpose. Not greater in the sense of more important, but in the sense of activity. I see people moving in unison without knowing. I see related growth happening in places far far apart. I see myself in others. I wish that these things made sense. People tend to string things together. They have an innate ability to make sense of disparate parts. This time those parts are the people themselves. Here, if the parts make sense of it, the sense stays.
I am dumb. I am so stupid I can't even move my limbs properly. Parts of me want to kiss the ground, others want nothing more than to jump. I'm constantly disagreeing, but at the same time moving. The average of my actions has dictated my direction. I am paralysed, but have never known control. I am trying to move, but I don't think the whole of me knows I exist.
I am smart. I can understand things bigger than me. I can see all around the world, beyond the galaxy, deep into my cells. I control all I touch. I have made my environment, my tools, my life. Everything I do is an exercise in freedom.
I am whole, and I am part. I exist as one thing, but everything I do has greater consequences. Everything comes from a greater influence. I don't see this, it's blurry, I'm blind.
I am deeply alone. I work alone, I think alone. Every moment I am pulled by myself, toward a still invisible future. I can't break free because I don't own it. I don't know it, I'm lost, and I have no map. My way isn't even clear to me. My intentions are confused, and I wish someone, something would help.
The more I do, the more it affects. The more affects, the more change. The more change the stranger the environment. And those new changes: I do something else.
Work together. Simply understand the intention. Understood intention is a goal, it is victory. Understood intention is a negotiation, and agreement. We get it, we see it, we note its change. We break, we complete.
Its good when you don't know what's next. It means you're thinking, it breaks down barriers of thought, it allows you to do more, its freeing, it creates insight, it challenges.
Its good to know what came before. It gives you a base, its structures thought, it avoids circles, it builds, it creates context, it suggests.
Think about what came before, think about what's next, because you'll never know. All we can do here is make the best guess.
I need optimistic people. Not only optimistic, but creatively so. There is no point in me banging my head against a wall of pessimism only to end up with the same outcome. I want my work to be a constant wondering, a worthy journey. So many times I've felt that if people could understand my vision we could agree. I don't want to be in the business of convincing. I want to work with a group of people who simply believe the same things as me. I don't want to hinder others, I simply want to help myself. Nothing comes from nothing. Work is the essence of growth. I work a great deal, and don't mind. I want to work, I want to be of use to others. With this work I take a certain conviction. I feel I have a role.
The following is a following. It follows my thought. I am a narrative in the form of a person, this is my trail of wondering.
I have a hunch, this hunch is one of a greater purpose. Not greater in the sense of more important, but in the sense of activity. I see people moving in unison without knowing. I see related growth happening in places far far apart. I see myself in others. I wish that these things made sense. People tend to string things together. They have an innate ability to make sense of disparate parts. This time those parts are the people themselves. Here, if the parts make sense of it, the sense stays.
I am dumb. I am so stupid I can't even move my limbs properly. Parts of me want to kiss the ground, others want nothing more than to jump. I'm constantly disagreeing, but at the same time moving. The average of my actions has dictated my direction. I am paralysed, but have never known control. I am trying to move, but I don't think the whole of me knows I exist.
I am smart. I can understand things bigger than me. I can see all around the world, beyond the galaxy, deep into my cells. I control all I touch. I have made my environment, my tools, my life. Everything I do is an exercise in freedom.
I am whole, and I am part. I exist as one thing, but everything I do has greater consequences. Everything comes from a greater influence. I don't see this, it's blurry, I'm blind.
I am deeply alone. I work alone, I think alone. Every moment I am pulled by myself, toward a still invisible future. I can't break free because I don't own it. I don't know it, I'm lost, and I have no map. My way isn't even clear to me. My intentions are confused, and I wish someone, something would help.
The more I do, the more it affects. The more affects, the more change. The more change the stranger the environment. And those new changes: I do something else.
Work together. Simply understand the intention. Understood intention is a goal, it is victory. Understood intention is a negotiation, and agreement. We get it, we see it, we note its change. We break, we complete.
Oct 26, 2008
Saving Face
There is something that compels me to constantly question whether I am in the right situation. Surely I will never reach it, the right place that is. But also as sure is the fact that this constant worrying will put me in a situation where I might be closer. I wish so much to have the right girl, the right routine, the right feeling, the right people. It will not take hard work. This idea of hard work getting your where you want to be is completely misguided. What it will take is the right definition. It will take the right plan and the right actions.
I will get no where without walking. I will know no one without talking. My life is mine to waste and I hope I do not on saving face.'
I will get no where without walking. I will know no one without talking. My life is mine to waste and I hope I do not on saving face.'
Oct 23, 2008
What can we do
What can we do. We can aimply aak that question. Maybe the answer is just an iterative process of caring. Meaning has become such an important pursuit in my life. How can we help each other, how can we be closer mentally, socially, physically, generationally.
I've heard that a developed person is someone who's internal image of their self is very close to their actual external image. What if a healthy society was one which has people who act on their compassion.
So much of our lives are isolation. We coop up through stayingat home, reading, working. When is the time for tough questions? Can we get togethe and ask these? Is anyone really interested in such things?
I've heard that a developed person is someone who's internal image of their self is very close to their actual external image. What if a healthy society was one which has people who act on their compassion.
So much of our lives are isolation. We coop up through stayingat home, reading, working. When is the time for tough questions? Can we get togethe and ask these? Is anyone really interested in such things?
Sep 12, 2008
why am i doing this?
There is so much to be done. IU ahven't enought time to do it all. Ity seems so dautning to try for the sky and reach for everything I csan. A delete becomes part of m y pattern, part of my symetry and my existence . I don't knwo what I cam tytpeing, it goess faster than my mind things, and certainly faster than I can percieve. My bottle neck is at its peak and with nothing to stope the flow to my mind I am in dire need of some assitance.
Look at whAT I HAVE PRODUCED, IT IS A KJUMBLE OF NONSENSE, A PLETHOROIA OF NOTHINGNESS, A WONDERFUL WORLD OF EVETHING ALL AT ONCE.
My life dictates that I sit here at my computer instead of tyring to find a mate. Instead of mating I am typeing. What exactly propells me to do such a thing? Why can this world of words not leavbe me alone to myself. What is it in here that pushes me into the nothingsness in whcih we all belong?
I don't know, in the end I don't know anything, All I knwo is that I am alone, one person typeing vbiolently on a keybord wihch carses not for my anger, it carws not fo rthis disease of love which plauges me day in and day out. My mind spirals into compntempt for others, into a horrible trend of assumption and hate. I wish that I could avoid all this but it is impossible,. eEverything I see, everything I feel is broughtj upon my slef by myself. Thwer eis now way only a fact of existance, only the unending hyme pof what we cannot, nor ever avoid, a void of lonelyiness and despair, transoformied into a bearable paridise for all of glimpse at. An unattainble goal of the highest rwegard. Nothing is such a wonderful though, but the reality of such a thing exists only uiin the envious mind.
In reality my mind is everything, my mind sees everything and sdumbs it down to little pieces which I scramble to decifer.
So what is the pint, WHy I am I trying to be such a jbeing of grace and nobility. WHy do I try day in and day out to do the right thing? What is it in me that pushes the regret in myl life to the top? Will it ever stop?
My life is a message, a message to myself, nothing more and nothingless. OI love creatures, I lobve people, I can';t touch them though, to touch is to dmystify asomething. To wact is to hold in the highest regard an imge of possibility, possibility of logic, being, and grace. SOmething whcih is above you, which loves you, and by doing so, you love it..
This distannt feeling odf sonstant hesitation is something I feel on a daily basis. I will be honest, nothing here pushes me, nothing seems a challenge and everyone around me loves just getting by. I ness somethign more, I need a position in this world of somone who is trying. I dont care if others are not trying, I want to try. Everyday I want to try, I need it. I need the satisfaction, or the delusion of a better world, one where people communicate betterm, whwrere messages bget trhough I know it is possible I know it is coming, I don't want to waitl.
Why am I doning what I am doing? I don't know. I fele like I see these people all the time,. Their faces stick in my mind, I can';t forget them,. I love them. I have lovesd sommany street walkers, I have so mcuh wanted to reahc aout and touch them, the ability escapes me. I wan t to connect with people in a true way. In a way that says, I love you and I want to know you, if you are not interesting I still love you beut i can do nothing for you. I hweave met bvery dew people in my life whoo are uninteresting. This uninterestingness usually stems ofrom a giving up on life. A lack of want for the new destroys any possibility of change. People need to want what I can give them, this is a new perspective. I want what they can giev me which is esstntially the smae thing, eecpt, my vision is one of everyones, their vision is more set on a goal, I want to make a profession of changing peopols' minds constanly , to change evryrtnig thing constantly and by doing so evaluate the bst apporcach.
So agian, wh yI am i doing thins? Why can;'t I jsut taalk to people hand have myh say. I wan people to come up to me. I am afraid of what people may say, and I want them to know that I am authentic,. How can I be authentic in these times of cycism? What is authenticity. I don't care. All I knwo is that we can be something greater and I want to work to get there.,What is greater, what works better. I know that we can work better because we are not we yet, but a bunch of Is and it totally sucks. I wdont; want to be me anoy more, I want to be us and I want it to wotrkd.
These stupid little connections I make are small insights into the workings of people. The conections we have the potential to yield everyday of our lives. Nothing is more real than the people aroudn us, and yet we are consumed by the media and the messages of false idols. I want people forget their assumptions and bond to each other, to sitck like glur, at least to the coneeppt of love and belonging. Love is not exculsive, it is by nature inclusive, wee need ownershipo over it, and to grasp the moment and build on that belonging.
So again. What am I doing? what is it that htese littel card will bring to the over all gestalt of the real world. Ntohing I am doing nothing. I am trying and failing about nothing at all. I want people to look at my workd an think, I could have done that. I want them to do that. I want people to look at this grewat Idea nand own it. I want them to use it for themselves> i want them to creat econnections and use them. I want people to see the value of others and use it as musch as they can. The otherness will save us from indivisualism, and love will bring us together in the fight against cynicism and nothingness.
Look at whAT I HAVE PRODUCED, IT IS A KJUMBLE OF NONSENSE, A PLETHOROIA OF NOTHINGNESS, A WONDERFUL WORLD OF EVETHING ALL AT ONCE.
My life dictates that I sit here at my computer instead of tyring to find a mate. Instead of mating I am typeing. What exactly propells me to do such a thing? Why can this world of words not leavbe me alone to myself. What is it in here that pushes me into the nothingsness in whcih we all belong?
I don't know, in the end I don't know anything, All I knwo is that I am alone, one person typeing vbiolently on a keybord wihch carses not for my anger, it carws not fo rthis disease of love which plauges me day in and day out. My mind spirals into compntempt for others, into a horrible trend of assumption and hate. I wish that I could avoid all this but it is impossible,. eEverything I see, everything I feel is broughtj upon my slef by myself. Thwer eis now way only a fact of existance, only the unending hyme pof what we cannot, nor ever avoid, a void of lonelyiness and despair, transoformied into a bearable paridise for all of glimpse at. An unattainble goal of the highest rwegard. Nothing is such a wonderful though, but the reality of such a thing exists only uiin the envious mind.
In reality my mind is everything, my mind sees everything and sdumbs it down to little pieces which I scramble to decifer.
So what is the pint, WHy I am I trying to be such a jbeing of grace and nobility. WHy do I try day in and day out to do the right thing? What is it in me that pushes the regret in myl life to the top? Will it ever stop?
My life is a message, a message to myself, nothing more and nothingless. OI love creatures, I lobve people, I can';t touch them though, to touch is to dmystify asomething. To wact is to hold in the highest regard an imge of possibility, possibility of logic, being, and grace. SOmething whcih is above you, which loves you, and by doing so, you love it..
This distannt feeling odf sonstant hesitation is something I feel on a daily basis. I will be honest, nothing here pushes me, nothing seems a challenge and everyone around me loves just getting by. I ness somethign more, I need a position in this world of somone who is trying. I dont care if others are not trying, I want to try. Everyday I want to try, I need it. I need the satisfaction, or the delusion of a better world, one where people communicate betterm, whwrere messages bget trhough I know it is possible I know it is coming, I don't want to waitl.
Why am I doning what I am doing? I don't know. I fele like I see these people all the time,. Their faces stick in my mind, I can';t forget them,. I love them. I have lovesd sommany street walkers, I have so mcuh wanted to reahc aout and touch them, the ability escapes me. I wan t to connect with people in a true way. In a way that says, I love you and I want to know you, if you are not interesting I still love you beut i can do nothing for you. I hweave met bvery dew people in my life whoo are uninteresting. This uninterestingness usually stems ofrom a giving up on life. A lack of want for the new destroys any possibility of change. People need to want what I can give them, this is a new perspective. I want what they can giev me which is esstntially the smae thing, eecpt, my vision is one of everyones, their vision is more set on a goal, I want to make a profession of changing peopols' minds constanly , to change evryrtnig thing constantly and by doing so evaluate the bst apporcach.
So agian, wh yI am i doing thins? Why can;'t I jsut taalk to people hand have myh say. I wan people to come up to me. I am afraid of what people may say, and I want them to know that I am authentic,. How can I be authentic in these times of cycism? What is authenticity. I don't care. All I knwo is that we can be something greater and I want to work to get there.,What is greater, what works better. I know that we can work better because we are not we yet, but a bunch of Is and it totally sucks. I wdont; want to be me anoy more, I want to be us and I want it to wotrkd.
These stupid little connections I make are small insights into the workings of people. The conections we have the potential to yield everyday of our lives. Nothing is more real than the people aroudn us, and yet we are consumed by the media and the messages of false idols. I want people forget their assumptions and bond to each other, to sitck like glur, at least to the coneeppt of love and belonging. Love is not exculsive, it is by nature inclusive, wee need ownershipo over it, and to grasp the moment and build on that belonging.
So again. What am I doing? what is it that htese littel card will bring to the over all gestalt of the real world. Ntohing I am doing nothing. I am trying and failing about nothing at all. I want people to look at my workd an think, I could have done that. I want them to do that. I want people to look at this grewat Idea nand own it. I want them to use it for themselves> i want them to creat econnections and use them. I want people to see the value of others and use it as musch as they can. The otherness will save us from indivisualism, and love will bring us together in the fight against cynicism and nothingness.
thinking
I open this fucking window again and pour my thought in to this linear blabber of helvetica. My life seems distant, I walk around to watch things pass me by. Nothing pulls me, or I am so stubborn that it doesn't pull me enough to make me move.
My choices are based on nothing but the absolute concrete facts. It's debilitating not to be able to choose. I feel like every choice I make is going to seriously effect my future, and that I will be giving something up. The real horror of it all is that my hesitation is a choice in itself, and I am choosing to be alone, by virtue of not choosing. Options are pacifying, I find it harder and harder to live in the moment. Where have my instincts gone, why do I always have to have a plan or a reason. Why am I looking for something, why am I asking so much of myself and getting so little.
Why am I upset, why do I care, why are all these things pressing down on me like lead type, spelling it right on my face, backwards, invisible to the carrier. I am in a state of sympathy for myself. I am a creature, caught in a trap possibly never to escape. Stuck in a forrest without the sky.
People around me seem to be fine. I put a mask on them and look at them as if they are not. I frame them in a way that makes sense to me. I cannot comprehend a satisfied life. How can anyone be happy with this situation. I am disconnected, I live in a self imposed prison; door wide open, waiting. Waiting waiting waiting waiting waiting for what waiting I might just be hating here stating facts oblivious to the spiritual nack humans have that I lack. I hate this fucking shit I hate this fucking shit I hate this fucking shit I hate this fucking shit I hate this fucking shit I hate this fucking shit I hat thesih dihsdfucking shit i ihat eht his isyufuckignn d hthis = I hate thia oidhcyufckidnidfn fdhtihhoaatthe thigho sffjaihfuckighti hdhasisthr stuU otihsdddhsschthuthfghsaOIhfdsthuchiyfckign thsihtir htihIh isdhthaitihihifgiuckitho ahihtihi tiohtihihcasty thtihiosuicjgihtijsahetitvhIHht athj thifhichiasdusickdgihtio ihdshxtiI thihasstthj htiehtihcufkkcingi thshiti e ioHhit sxassthihgyhivh yhidioufickgoyjr dz.
What shall I do. Such thought bring my life to a halt, the fear of decision the need to decide. Why do I ask myself these questions. Just do whatever you do. Don't choose to, don't choose what you want, just see what happens and adjust accordingly. There is no choice, even if you want something, there is no way to get it. There is only the life you lead, and it has be led, it will always be led. Past is just part of the future you can see, it's just another part of the world. You can't see the stars in the city, you can't see your future if you look up.
My choices are based on nothing but the absolute concrete facts. It's debilitating not to be able to choose. I feel like every choice I make is going to seriously effect my future, and that I will be giving something up. The real horror of it all is that my hesitation is a choice in itself, and I am choosing to be alone, by virtue of not choosing. Options are pacifying, I find it harder and harder to live in the moment. Where have my instincts gone, why do I always have to have a plan or a reason. Why am I looking for something, why am I asking so much of myself and getting so little.
Why am I upset, why do I care, why are all these things pressing down on me like lead type, spelling it right on my face, backwards, invisible to the carrier. I am in a state of sympathy for myself. I am a creature, caught in a trap possibly never to escape. Stuck in a forrest without the sky.
People around me seem to be fine. I put a mask on them and look at them as if they are not. I frame them in a way that makes sense to me. I cannot comprehend a satisfied life. How can anyone be happy with this situation. I am disconnected, I live in a self imposed prison; door wide open, waiting. Waiting waiting waiting waiting waiting for what waiting I might just be hating here stating facts oblivious to the spiritual nack humans have that I lack. I hate this fucking shit I hate this fucking shit I hate this fucking shit I hate this fucking shit I hate this fucking shit I hate this fucking shit I hat thesih dihsdfucking shit i ihat eht his isyufuckignn d hthis = I hate thia oidhcyufckidnidfn fdhtihhoaatthe thigho sffjaihfuckighti hdhasisthr stuU otihsdddhsschthuthfghsaOIhfdsthuchiyfckign thsihtir htihIh isdhthaitihihifgiuckitho ahihtihi tiohtihihcasty thtihiosuicjgihtijsahetitvhIHht athj thifhichiasdusickdgihtio ihdshxtiI thihasstthj htiehtihcufkkcingi thshiti e ioHhit sxassthihgyhivh yhidioufickgoyjr dz.
What shall I do. Such thought bring my life to a halt, the fear of decision the need to decide. Why do I ask myself these questions. Just do whatever you do. Don't choose to, don't choose what you want, just see what happens and adjust accordingly. There is no choice, even if you want something, there is no way to get it. There is only the life you lead, and it has be led, it will always be led. Past is just part of the future you can see, it's just another part of the world. You can't see the stars in the city, you can't see your future if you look up.
pink newspaper
Nothing is like it seems, excepting the rationale conclusion of such a statement. Done. concluded. He starred into the distance, focal point quickly fading. No remorse. This distance speck shrinking slowly away, never to be seen again. It had smacked him in the face, and the blood was stick fresh in his cheek. A concoction of anger, pain, sadness, and apathy was mixing up in his eyes, slowly draining down his torso, ending at his heart; his limbs were fine.
Though this event worked as expected and was most like other instances of loss in his life, somehow, it was different. It was only now he could see the unavoidable pattern. A pattern of nonsense and involuntary inaction.
Slowly the pick polka-dots formed on his face and he began to fly home, making a buzzing sound as he did. The rocket pack strapped to his leg made for an uneven balance, but the challenge would always interest him. Carrying a heavy load often posed a challenging fight against one's self. Life was a big game with no opponent, only the last person you were. The stanley cup of these trials was the satisfaction of being someone else.
It was so confusing to imagine others being others at times, that he could not bare to enter the world of conversation; a world of infinite small monkeys clinging to branches, liable to fall at any moment. He protected his head with the pink newspaper and bouncy his merry way.
Though this event worked as expected and was most like other instances of loss in his life, somehow, it was different. It was only now he could see the unavoidable pattern. A pattern of nonsense and involuntary inaction.
Slowly the pick polka-dots formed on his face and he began to fly home, making a buzzing sound as he did. The rocket pack strapped to his leg made for an uneven balance, but the challenge would always interest him. Carrying a heavy load often posed a challenging fight against one's self. Life was a big game with no opponent, only the last person you were. The stanley cup of these trials was the satisfaction of being someone else.
It was so confusing to imagine others being others at times, that he could not bare to enter the world of conversation; a world of infinite small monkeys clinging to branches, liable to fall at any moment. He protected his head with the pink newspaper and bouncy his merry way.
nietzche
In the time of absolute availabilitiy I feel a strain on my inner being to produce work of servitude for an audience of inept understanders. My life up until this point, and most liely continuing for a while, has/will be on of service and accomodation. I wish to explore the possibility of a new life, one of exploration in itself. A life where things are not themselves; they chance constantly. A life where people are not personable; there are rather being to advance a cause. A life where work is a necessity, and living is secondary to the reason.
I wish that probability would apply itself to my rubric of happiness. That lovers would grasp my incomplete sentences and hold me as the would like them. That people around me would see my vision and love what we could be. That a group of similar thinkers could argue all the night about details.
I wish to create a place where a dialog could be had. Where I could be
I lull my senses to the point where my produce is les than the product of a minor licensed worker. I love nothing but th esheer thrills of love and can take nothing forgranted but the unending feeling of remorse foor the words past and my lust unlasting. Love is but an instant dream, a momentary lapse of reality in my perspective, I love things, but realize they are apart and I am a part in a greater being.
I can't pretend to love so deeply a though of which I could just sleep with. I fear my lonesome thoughts still bleach the places that I sleep with nietzsche.
I wish that probability would apply itself to my rubric of happiness. That lovers would grasp my incomplete sentences and hold me as the would like them. That people around me would see my vision and love what we could be. That a group of similar thinkers could argue all the night about details.
I wish to create a place where a dialog could be had. Where I could be
I lull my senses to the point where my produce is les than the product of a minor licensed worker. I love nothing but th esheer thrills of love and can take nothing forgranted but the unending feeling of remorse foor the words past and my lust unlasting. Love is but an instant dream, a momentary lapse of reality in my perspective, I love things, but realize they are apart and I am a part in a greater being.
I can't pretend to love so deeply a though of which I could just sleep with. I fear my lonesome thoughts still bleach the places that I sleep with nietzsche.
never ending struggle
A world in which the digital is real becomes increasingly subjective, almost to the point of actual subjectivity. In actual fact the world is a subjective place. Mass media has held very few opinions over large spans of time with varying success. A digital culture's true form is in indecision and progresses through averages and consensus.
The mass media is recognizable in the fact that is holds one opinion and treats the well hidden bias as objective. The objective is the decided opinion of academia or higher classes which fits between prevailing views. In order to have a true objective picture one must see all opinions both past and present and plant oneself in the midst of them.
What is this worry over the truth, what is the truth that is can be so sought after, and when found a new truth is the conquest. Why have truth at all. Can truth be found, contradictions surround us. If no truth can be found, it may not even exist. What is the search, what is the drive in human life which pushes us to know? Why are puzzles so appealing? After one problem we want another, an unending existence of dissatisfaction. Why have we not realized the persistence of discomfort. It would be absurd to believe we will ever be satisfied, at that moment we would cease to exist.
If happiness were contagious we would all have it by now. It's unfortunate that our existence is a search for the unattainable, but what is existence if not an imbalance in the desires of reality, eternal equilibrium would mean the existence of nothing.
The mass media is recognizable in the fact that is holds one opinion and treats the well hidden bias as objective. The objective is the decided opinion of academia or higher classes which fits between prevailing views. In order to have a true objective picture one must see all opinions both past and present and plant oneself in the midst of them.
What is this worry over the truth, what is the truth that is can be so sought after, and when found a new truth is the conquest. Why have truth at all. Can truth be found, contradictions surround us. If no truth can be found, it may not even exist. What is the search, what is the drive in human life which pushes us to know? Why are puzzles so appealing? After one problem we want another, an unending existence of dissatisfaction. Why have we not realized the persistence of discomfort. It would be absurd to believe we will ever be satisfied, at that moment we would cease to exist.
If happiness were contagious we would all have it by now. It's unfortunate that our existence is a search for the unattainable, but what is existence if not an imbalance in the desires of reality, eternal equilibrium would mean the existence of nothing.
love
Just realize the love. Love it, love the fact that you hate things but then realize you don't. Hate is just a smaller piece of love and ultimately a less useful subset. Take your life and deal with it. Love it, love the people in it. Love everything around you. Give up your urges, your desires, you're need for control, you will, you're motivation. Just love, put yourself in the hands of those around you. Embrace them, love them. Don't think about loving them, just feel it. Just know that you love them already, know and feel what you already have inside you. Know that you are part of everything around you, and know that you don't make a difference. Know that everyone is depending on you, but know that you are not here, or there, or anywhere but inside yourself. You are nothing, and you are part of everything. Love that, love as a feeling. Love as you would eat, don't think about it, taste it, savor it. Love all the time, have 5 meals of love for every meal of food. Love is the only thing that will sustain you through famine. Love will heal you, love is nothing. Love is a word with four letters all meaningless. Love is the only meaning you will every find, and you will never find it. You can never find love, it is not hiding, it is there in front of you. Take it love it, but don't try to. There is no trying. There is no straining. There is only release. Release yourself from running away, release yourself from hiding and love will find you. Love is waiting, its beside you, waiting for you. It's waiting for a big hug, a tear and a smile. Love is your death, love is the death of whatever you are and the birth of whatever we become. Don't doubt, don't believe, just be, just forget, just feel. Just love, love and justice, forget rules, forget morals, just do what you feel, and that is right. Just love. I can't.
Apr 20, 2008
whywords
Why am I here
Why not
What is a question
A word: q u e s t i o n
Letters, one, q
Q capitalize
Who capitalized it
it is not capitalized Q is
who did that
that refers to the previous Q
I copied, someone led.
I am unsure, my words are certain, they are a foolish representation of a washed out heart. My mind suspends disbelief in the only way possible; fucking rejection. I wait, so long, but pretend not to. My waiting is a sign, someone might tell me what it means. Once again, my unsure heart has dire real consequences. What lies in wait of my actions, what people follow my words. What will the question mark mean without the verb. What words come next that might make clear an uncertain time. What clarifies the clarity of mind I might find in rhymes. A constraint of what I might think of, a debate. I wish people would be honest, tell me straight. Why am I here, can I answer this alone, will words give me the warmth to be home. The hearth of my life is dying, my cold heart is vying for another shot at trying to be what I'm not when I'm lying. Killer whales, amidst killer waves, we all crave for something more than that which we've saved. Some trace of what might be sits in my stomach, rotting until I can release its horrible nature, or just some of it. I wish to work, I work to wish, To work I wish, work I wish to, wish work to I, were wish urk I too, were I to work, turk woo I were through.
Fucked. I remember what I had as if it were better. Sometime, occasionally I see it as worse. When I realize that what I have now is less, I begin to see the wonderful nothing coalesce.
Why not
What is a question
A word: q u e s t i o n
Letters, one, q
Q capitalize
Who capitalized it
it is not capitalized Q is
who did that
that refers to the previous Q
I copied, someone led.
I am unsure, my words are certain, they are a foolish representation of a washed out heart. My mind suspends disbelief in the only way possible; fucking rejection. I wait, so long, but pretend not to. My waiting is a sign, someone might tell me what it means. Once again, my unsure heart has dire real consequences. What lies in wait of my actions, what people follow my words. What will the question mark mean without the verb. What words come next that might make clear an uncertain time. What clarifies the clarity of mind I might find in rhymes. A constraint of what I might think of, a debate. I wish people would be honest, tell me straight. Why am I here, can I answer this alone, will words give me the warmth to be home. The hearth of my life is dying, my cold heart is vying for another shot at trying to be what I'm not when I'm lying. Killer whales, amidst killer waves, we all crave for something more than that which we've saved. Some trace of what might be sits in my stomach, rotting until I can release its horrible nature, or just some of it. I wish to work, I work to wish, To work I wish, work I wish to, wish work to I, were wish urk I too, were I to work, turk woo I were through.
Fucked. I remember what I had as if it were better. Sometime, occasionally I see it as worse. When I realize that what I have now is less, I begin to see the wonderful nothing coalesce.
Feb 12, 2008
mission statements
Out with Mission Statements in with Monthly Statements
Missions are static. They work at any time, they are ideals, and they are unlimited. Actions are temporary, they stop, they die at the deadline.
We seem to "have" freedom. Much like a mission statement, this is a concept of the present. What if everyone had the "freedom" to vote, but only a small percentage did. Would they still be free? Would the idea that they "could" make any difference?
We don't have freedom, we don't own any idea of potential. We do, or do not, there is no try.
Missions are static. They work at any time, they are ideals, and they are unlimited. Actions are temporary, they stop, they die at the deadline.
We seem to "have" freedom. Much like a mission statement, this is a concept of the present. What if everyone had the "freedom" to vote, but only a small percentage did. Would they still be free? Would the idea that they "could" make any difference?
We don't have freedom, we don't own any idea of potential. We do, or do not, there is no try.
Jan 20, 2008
to be done
Waiting patiently for time to stop an my opinion to be pulled from my hesitant lips. I speak only when forced to by embarrassment or anger. A little bit lost and a lot more throw for a wild goose crap picking uop small bits from various locations only to be led by a string and hung by this trip wire laid.
My needs are filled, my head too. I want so much to be done. Finished with life my desires climb to the edge and with little reason to stop I fall. My ground's first blow is pleasant. At first I just simple reflect, no point in feeling, just understanding. Next, the pain courses through my arms, my actions, my words, I am broken. Finally, with all the cards on the table, I fold.
Here lies Patrick, he was sure something would happen, but nothing did. He was happy enough to take what might be and extrapolate to mental complacency. All that was his was returned. He gave little, and cleaned up after himself. He assure us all, that being responsible for one's actions is important, but non of us were surprised by that proposition. He lies Patrick, a liar to himself.
Each day I think could be a change. Some nugget rests in the hard shell I have left to crack. I don't even have enough energy to pick up the machine. My eyelids collapse before I even begin to wake. Overcast skies on an extravagant dream.
So hypocritical, we judge and want all to stop for us. Wait on me, my life is important but I give nothing. Work turns to life turns to others turns to meaning. I live the other direction and less means more, my efficiency progresses and I do not even exist.
I lost my beans in thought, just before I was going to actually move. I've been here since, pensively plotting my next move only to sit here more and life I allude.
A loading bar confronts my temper I end it with her in mind. A vision from a point when I had a touch, when feeling meant someone else. I was safe then, I was with someone but myself. Now neither stares me in the face even when I look away. I am alone, but more. I am alone with millions of others, they are not.
If only done. I could move on. If this part were finished I would never need to address it again. No real point, just done.
You might know me, but you'd be wrong. I don't know me and I've been here for so long. My life still hangs, a dangling carrot that can't be seen, only tasted by biting everything and suffering the poison and bitterness between. I walk alone, die alone, and only live with others. My life is repetition, I fail to apply the pattern. I failed and I fail and I think and I fail. The odd instance is my reward, a new word is born and I speak it until I am muffled by future thoughts and lost memories. I forget I fail. I wait until the lesson and my repetition remind me, remember me, before. I was there and here, a circle and I see the horizon. Cut in half I walk again, in circles more. I love so to see others walk the same. I say good bye to the straight line, and embrace my folly.
My needs are filled, my head too. I want so much to be done. Finished with life my desires climb to the edge and with little reason to stop I fall. My ground's first blow is pleasant. At first I just simple reflect, no point in feeling, just understanding. Next, the pain courses through my arms, my actions, my words, I am broken. Finally, with all the cards on the table, I fold.
Here lies Patrick, he was sure something would happen, but nothing did. He was happy enough to take what might be and extrapolate to mental complacency. All that was his was returned. He gave little, and cleaned up after himself. He assure us all, that being responsible for one's actions is important, but non of us were surprised by that proposition. He lies Patrick, a liar to himself.
Each day I think could be a change. Some nugget rests in the hard shell I have left to crack. I don't even have enough energy to pick up the machine. My eyelids collapse before I even begin to wake. Overcast skies on an extravagant dream.
So hypocritical, we judge and want all to stop for us. Wait on me, my life is important but I give nothing. Work turns to life turns to others turns to meaning. I live the other direction and less means more, my efficiency progresses and I do not even exist.
I lost my beans in thought, just before I was going to actually move. I've been here since, pensively plotting my next move only to sit here more and life I allude.
A loading bar confronts my temper I end it with her in mind. A vision from a point when I had a touch, when feeling meant someone else. I was safe then, I was with someone but myself. Now neither stares me in the face even when I look away. I am alone, but more. I am alone with millions of others, they are not.
If only done. I could move on. If this part were finished I would never need to address it again. No real point, just done.
You might know me, but you'd be wrong. I don't know me and I've been here for so long. My life still hangs, a dangling carrot that can't be seen, only tasted by biting everything and suffering the poison and bitterness between. I walk alone, die alone, and only live with others. My life is repetition, I fail to apply the pattern. I failed and I fail and I think and I fail. The odd instance is my reward, a new word is born and I speak it until I am muffled by future thoughts and lost memories. I forget I fail. I wait until the lesson and my repetition remind me, remember me, before. I was there and here, a circle and I see the horizon. Cut in half I walk again, in circles more. I love so to see others walk the same. I say good bye to the straight line, and embrace my folly.
Oct 23, 2007
Mission
I will continue to fail and come to insights through recording my attempts in compelling metaphors and beautiful abstractions for others to wonder and wander in. Using less and less resources, producing more and more meaningful change, through respecting people and upholding justices. People will inspire me, push me, challenge me, and ultimately value what they helped create. But, I must grow toward a comfortable stance as a centre of leadership and attention, playing with the words unexpected, making fun of myself and the play that I work at.
To try in the face of failure
To understand the reasons for outcomes, and to figure out the misunderstood
To record my experiences and efforts
To explain to others what I know if it helps
To word my thoughts in a beautifully abstract and compelling metaphorical way
To uphold justice, and work for fair systems
To make use of dormant resources, and conserve ones in jeopardy
To talk with others about the future, and plan together
To care deeply for people; need them, want them, respect them.
To smile, hug, and embrace them
To be around people:
who recognize my efforts
who are passionate about life's challenges
who have different perspectives
who push me to new heights
To change about myself:
Ability to be the centre of attention
Speaking my mind, letting words flow
Listening to people's emotional words and signals
Comfortable with where I stand(literally)
Making decisions, or rather not thinking about small choices
Confident recommendations, or leadership
Comfortable with generosity and with receiving it
Making fun of myself
Taking my opinion, or turn to speak less seriously
Being comfortable with what is expected of me(performance)
To try in the face of failure
To understand the reasons for outcomes, and to figure out the misunderstood
To record my experiences and efforts
To explain to others what I know if it helps
To word my thoughts in a beautifully abstract and compelling metaphorical way
To uphold justice, and work for fair systems
To make use of dormant resources, and conserve ones in jeopardy
To talk with others about the future, and plan together
To care deeply for people; need them, want them, respect them.
To smile, hug, and embrace them
To be around people:
who recognize my efforts
who are passionate about life's challenges
who have different perspectives
who push me to new heights
To change about myself:
Ability to be the centre of attention
Speaking my mind, letting words flow
Listening to people's emotional words and signals
Comfortable with where I stand(literally)
Making decisions, or rather not thinking about small choices
Confident recommendations, or leadership
Comfortable with generosity and with receiving it
Making fun of myself
Taking my opinion, or turn to speak less seriously
Being comfortable with what is expected of me(performance)
Oct 18, 2007
shelved
Others, the ones I don't understand
A swath of unrecognizable mirrors
myself up for grabs, an identity to itself
alone and feeling so surrounded by others
Those others, can we still see them
Can we be them, I don't know
I struggled, it didn't work
I can tell you I struggled. I worked
I don't know where I stopped
The flower lying on the ground in front of me
Withers, I do too, lost my time, its about it
Lost my need to go on, my point
the game is boring, and so too am I
We gave up, and there it ended
our lives were not lived, we died
that moment we chose not to care
That moment chose not to care for us
so we stood forever in that gaze
starring at that thing we could not understand
and never seeking to try to have it in our souls
never really feeling, only thinking, a collective recursive loop
shut in ourselves, within ourselves, living without ourselves, to the end of no selves, shelved.
A swath of unrecognizable mirrors
myself up for grabs, an identity to itself
alone and feeling so surrounded by others
Those others, can we still see them
Can we be them, I don't know
I struggled, it didn't work
I can tell you I struggled. I worked
I don't know where I stopped
The flower lying on the ground in front of me
Withers, I do too, lost my time, its about it
Lost my need to go on, my point
the game is boring, and so too am I
We gave up, and there it ended
our lives were not lived, we died
that moment we chose not to care
That moment chose not to care for us
so we stood forever in that gaze
starring at that thing we could not understand
and never seeking to try to have it in our souls
never really feeling, only thinking, a collective recursive loop
shut in ourselves, within ourselves, living without ourselves, to the end of no selves, shelved.
spinyball
sit in wait of this fucking ball of rainbow shit.
it insults me with its happy go fuck yourself grin
I wish it would explode and reveal the darkness inside
the horride evil of taunting surface deviation inherent in its pleasure in my pain
celebrating in a continuous cycle, killing me softly horribly with my own mind
shove this thing up the small pixel anus of the fucker who created it
rgb all I see is r
fuck this thing, wasting my life away watching the fun of others
it insults me with its happy go fuck yourself grin
I wish it would explode and reveal the darkness inside
the horride evil of taunting surface deviation inherent in its pleasure in my pain
celebrating in a continuous cycle, killing me softly horribly with my own mind
shove this thing up the small pixel anus of the fucker who created it
rgb all I see is r
fuck this thing, wasting my life away watching the fun of others
lost
If I lost now what would I have
an empty hand of hopes dremas so lost in itself it doesn't mean
no meaning apart from my self, a world I wish I was delt
only my scrupulous nonsense coul amalgamate nothing takes for uihits so hard i cant see what it has happending my alife bleeds into itslef lines drawing in my face i know what i said , just waiting dead alone. still hoping seeing my death bed a,.lone I know it, I see it,I accpet it I liove it we live it us.
our vision is the same, a canvas shared for the horrible contamination of others wating holding out. Lost again.
an empty hand of hopes dremas so lost in itself it doesn't mean
no meaning apart from my self, a world I wish I was delt
only my scrupulous nonsense coul amalgamate nothing takes for uihits so hard i cant see what it has happending my alife bleeds into itslef lines drawing in my face i know what i said , just waiting dead alone. still hoping seeing my death bed a,.lone I know it, I see it,I accpet it I liove it we live it us.
our vision is the same, a canvas shared for the horrible contamination of others wating holding out. Lost again.
Sep 30, 2007
throwing words
I see myself in everyone, varying degrees of what I could be if I knew me. I want so deeply to touch what I have, to own the abundance of possibility.
So I run, so fast toward you we crash and forced through, just brushing arms, and anxiousness disarms. With each I pass, I regret. With each lost laugh, I'm upset. With a constant though, no distraction I can get, no further than I can see. So the road ahead I must walk blindly, and left alone, no one to hold, by my own bidding I'm composed, a calm awkwardness, take time to perfect, but the time left still sets its eyes. my thighs shake, you wait, for someone unknown to me. Your double purpose, I am worthless, not the spotlight and I definitely deserve this.
So sit, stay, please don't let my words, sway, your confidence, your the only place my thoughts get, and if I could relax one bit, it would be for you, and before you I would crumble more through my own stolen thunder, than through regret, more a calm defeat than my choices wrecked.
If these words could hit you, if I could break through the air we share. Some point in 1000 years, you may hear me, I wait for this day unfortunately, nothing wrong, but nothing right about another lonely night.
I would make you notice, I would yell with letters unfettered love, attack from above, you would not expect me, and you would love it. I would not care if you didn't want it, because eventually you would, my words would become comfort, and from comfort to good. We would become what was not before. and my unheard words would mean even more.
So I run, so fast toward you we crash and forced through, just brushing arms, and anxiousness disarms. With each I pass, I regret. With each lost laugh, I'm upset. With a constant though, no distraction I can get, no further than I can see. So the road ahead I must walk blindly, and left alone, no one to hold, by my own bidding I'm composed, a calm awkwardness, take time to perfect, but the time left still sets its eyes. my thighs shake, you wait, for someone unknown to me. Your double purpose, I am worthless, not the spotlight and I definitely deserve this.
So sit, stay, please don't let my words, sway, your confidence, your the only place my thoughts get, and if I could relax one bit, it would be for you, and before you I would crumble more through my own stolen thunder, than through regret, more a calm defeat than my choices wrecked.
If these words could hit you, if I could break through the air we share. Some point in 1000 years, you may hear me, I wait for this day unfortunately, nothing wrong, but nothing right about another lonely night.
I would make you notice, I would yell with letters unfettered love, attack from above, you would not expect me, and you would love it. I would not care if you didn't want it, because eventually you would, my words would become comfort, and from comfort to good. We would become what was not before. and my unheard words would mean even more.
Aug 8, 2007
Lonely
Lonely, if only, my thought compliment my tone of voice honed in on awkward toys and just a little boy. Still fit for a lesson in the commonplace knowledge of who's guessing nothing much astounds me, and I sit here, round me, myself introspective, only a surface though, still lonely.
Talked to someone, everything is better
Talked to someone, everything is better
Jul 28, 2007
Goodbye K
Sipping tipping slowly slipping toward the abiss let me still rip them from my fist
skinny dippy, my life a sympton of things past and long last an effortless last task
a goodbye my night fine, in your time a way for us to take
nothing more only her, between your hair, I'll sleep and times I'll talk of
Nothing here, just to wait, nothing more to take, a glimpse is enough for me to shake from my bindings.
Left a road winding my own self defining a new road, so let a person beside me tell that my words are sharp, maybe too dark.
Exhaduration is not my strong suit, but interpretation is such a long foot in the door, and more or less my down fall repour.
Let's make ammends, I said when I feel fit for an end, it will happen.
Now I believe it is time, and so not but 48 hours today
We find ourselves alone, you with many surface, myself with my own depth.
A creatively leaped for, no more sex for, my own times flexed more I am alone
Mosquitos dropping an your own mind shopping, I hate my own ownership but your flirting sinks my heart
and here I dart from end to end, fearing to depend on you. Your mind set, my eyes regret, but motion is in step, here we bet that nothing less, than the fiery zest of your chest attracts your new mate.
Good bye my k, so barren of what I need, so full of what so leads, to a life of contentment, and every sentiment, of my, in due time, wishes you well, on a journey to my hell. A feeling of uncomfortable, considering others is not your forte. At sometime you may understand, until then, I wish you the best.
Ranting in text. Alone while you take a social stand, not vexed. I wait, and you go, an intersection of greed, an my own words heed you. No more than I need to, but enough to know that you see through my guise and these eyes try not to deceive you, but they do. We are through.
skinny dippy, my life a sympton of things past and long last an effortless last task
a goodbye my night fine, in your time a way for us to take
nothing more only her, between your hair, I'll sleep and times I'll talk of
Nothing here, just to wait, nothing more to take, a glimpse is enough for me to shake from my bindings.
Left a road winding my own self defining a new road, so let a person beside me tell that my words are sharp, maybe too dark.
Exhaduration is not my strong suit, but interpretation is such a long foot in the door, and more or less my down fall repour.
Let's make ammends, I said when I feel fit for an end, it will happen.
Now I believe it is time, and so not but 48 hours today
We find ourselves alone, you with many surface, myself with my own depth.
A creatively leaped for, no more sex for, my own times flexed more I am alone
Mosquitos dropping an your own mind shopping, I hate my own ownership but your flirting sinks my heart
and here I dart from end to end, fearing to depend on you. Your mind set, my eyes regret, but motion is in step, here we bet that nothing less, than the fiery zest of your chest attracts your new mate.
Good bye my k, so barren of what I need, so full of what so leads, to a life of contentment, and every sentiment, of my, in due time, wishes you well, on a journey to my hell. A feeling of uncomfortable, considering others is not your forte. At sometime you may understand, until then, I wish you the best.
Ranting in text. Alone while you take a social stand, not vexed. I wait, and you go, an intersection of greed, an my own words heed you. No more than I need to, but enough to know that you see through my guise and these eyes try not to deceive you, but they do. We are through.
Mar 24, 2007
feelings and moments
An I don't know what I am doingn here,
less depressed than previouslu I love living less and laughing more
So I thought for a moment of more than those who own it
These thoughts rule me and now I can slightly control these
Life, it turns out, is more of a game, less of an art, more in the playing than in the start
All the times I looked away, a lost gaze and a game never played
I love these people who surround my, I am just looking for one to confound me
Turn to me and just look, after that glance I took, it seems romantic
more so I am a tragic love frantic for another
I see life as a wonderful thing now, maybe confidence gained me some how
Musings of the lonely hear you see left shivers in the best part of me
Now I look whole heartedly, at what was once a mundane redundancy
A smile with intentions replaces the lying manners of a spineless animal
The risk of something real is to great to pass by in this corpse of possibility
Potential; the ugly word of nothing happening, the silence of complacency or what could be
I feel more now than ever before, and love the awkward moments in transit
Diminishing the mass of people I ignore, especially the ones who can't stand it
These people whom I choose to grasp, looking for the just right moment
are why God's left the best for last, now in this moment own it.
less depressed than previouslu I love living less and laughing more
So I thought for a moment of more than those who own it
These thoughts rule me and now I can slightly control these
Life, it turns out, is more of a game, less of an art, more in the playing than in the start
All the times I looked away, a lost gaze and a game never played
I love these people who surround my, I am just looking for one to confound me
Turn to me and just look, after that glance I took, it seems romantic
more so I am a tragic love frantic for another
I see life as a wonderful thing now, maybe confidence gained me some how
Musings of the lonely hear you see left shivers in the best part of me
Now I look whole heartedly, at what was once a mundane redundancy
A smile with intentions replaces the lying manners of a spineless animal
The risk of something real is to great to pass by in this corpse of possibility
Potential; the ugly word of nothing happening, the silence of complacency or what could be
I feel more now than ever before, and love the awkward moments in transit
Diminishing the mass of people I ignore, especially the ones who can't stand it
These people whom I choose to grasp, looking for the just right moment
are why God's left the best for last, now in this moment own it.
Jan 14, 2007
How wonderful all my friends are,
love little jelly jars.
This friend's now friends with that other one,
The little friend likes the fat one.
I wonder, is there an end to friends?
A time when nothing more is meant,
A line that ceases to depend
on growing mounds of flesh and then...
What of the book of faces after
We grow bored of friends,
their routine matters,
When all details have been confirmed,
when groups are joined,
and kudos earned.
Will we sit together then?
arms length between,
is that then end?
Or will we find another wall?
more things to write,
but never all.
Are we hockey cards in packs?
collected for our fronts and backs?
My day job lets me life my life
but what is living life like on lonely nights?
But still, it's true, I like my friends,
how their week and weekends went.
What we were then lends trust to us
So with that can we leap for such?
This flu is making me delirious
love little jelly jars.
This friend's now friends with that other one,
The little friend likes the fat one.
I wonder, is there an end to friends?
A time when nothing more is meant,
A line that ceases to depend
on growing mounds of flesh and then...
What of the book of faces after
We grow bored of friends,
their routine matters,
When all details have been confirmed,
when groups are joined,
and kudos earned.
Will we sit together then?
arms length between,
is that then end?
Or will we find another wall?
more things to write,
but never all.
Are we hockey cards in packs?
collected for our fronts and backs?
My day job lets me life my life
but what is living life like on lonely nights?
But still, it's true, I like my friends,
how their week and weekends went.
What we were then lends trust to us
So with that can we leap for such?
This flu is making me delirious
Oct 7, 2006
Act Now
DOes the need to produce outweigh the recommendation of a plan. This efficiency is infringing on my needs. This freedom to do anything is constraing my ability to concentrate.
What is this if not a time of action. We remain in stasis, waiting to figure out the right but too late. The right was acting, pushing, shoving, making, bleeding. You missed the train, and now you wait in the cold with nothing but a thin summer jacket to keep you warm. Dead faces around you tell nothing but the time. You mind weeps but your eyes maintain the strength of vulnerability. Out of touch, touch is cold, left behind to act your age, nothing at the end but an ending, no where to begin but where you came from. Look for something now, before it all fades to black and your credits are no where to be seen.
What is this if not a time of action. We remain in stasis, waiting to figure out the right but too late. The right was acting, pushing, shoving, making, bleeding. You missed the train, and now you wait in the cold with nothing but a thin summer jacket to keep you warm. Dead faces around you tell nothing but the time. You mind weeps but your eyes maintain the strength of vulnerability. Out of touch, touch is cold, left behind to act your age, nothing at the end but an ending, no where to begin but where you came from. Look for something now, before it all fades to black and your credits are no where to be seen.
Sep 28, 2006
Blackbox
I can't choose, but at least I can write. Whenever I feel this way I need to let it out on a white screen. Black thoughts fill the box I spit in to.
Sep 27, 2006
do i?
So do I write or sleep
DO i got o the bar or stay at home
do I take a nap or work on some stuff
scold her or let it go
take it forgranted or live every second
what does that mean, I am just a second man
living every moment as aI should and nothing more
nothing spells danger like satisfaction
hold on to your attachements as much as possible
Do i answer that message or ignore it
sit properly or not
I think I should turn that light off and the other one on
so that I can go to bed easier, and just turn the light off from my bed.
I wonder if anyone is looking in this window,
if they did they would probably get pretty board
Should I be here, or dead
should I live a good life or try to get what I can from others
I know the answer to these questions, they are almost obvious.
the tough questions are:
is she the RIGHT one, do I want her ENOUGH to pursue it
Why am I sitting here expecting the world while giving nothing
Do people realize? Do they care about the thought that goes into this?
My mind is on overdrive, and my sense is distributed
I need a calm summer night with the touch of a loved one
I need a break from reality and a delusion to suck from.
DO i got o the bar or stay at home
do I take a nap or work on some stuff
scold her or let it go
take it forgranted or live every second
what does that mean, I am just a second man
living every moment as aI should and nothing more
nothing spells danger like satisfaction
hold on to your attachements as much as possible
Do i answer that message or ignore it
sit properly or not
I think I should turn that light off and the other one on
so that I can go to bed easier, and just turn the light off from my bed.
I wonder if anyone is looking in this window,
if they did they would probably get pretty board
Should I be here, or dead
should I live a good life or try to get what I can from others
I know the answer to these questions, they are almost obvious.
the tough questions are:
is she the RIGHT one, do I want her ENOUGH to pursue it
Why am I sitting here expecting the world while giving nothing
Do people realize? Do they care about the thought that goes into this?
My mind is on overdrive, and my sense is distributed
I need a calm summer night with the touch of a loved one
I need a break from reality and a delusion to suck from.
Sep 16, 2006
crippled influence
Why do I always chiken out. Will my life be this constant rejection of resposibility? Why must everything be so scary< i am afraid to fail at something which is expected to be easy. I don't event want the try something if there is a possibilty that it is expected. I am a lover of the unexpected because of the luxury it affords: the ability to fail and for that to be normal. Failure at the new is an obvious outcome, all those who succeed at the unexpected are lucky, those who succeed at the expected are mediocre.
I wish that I coul prove myself through my thinking, but I am sure that will never happen. I wish that I could be confident in my choices while remaining true to my passion. Reasons why are hard to come by in a world so set on impression I struggle to get one word in, one of meanings and easily decieved things which feed of the living limbs of other friends.
I am lost but so is the rest of the population of this fucked up nation. I am one alone, in a sea of lonley people. Will I kill myself? Would that be acceptable? Would that be spineless. Maybe spinelessness is not knowing, maybe it is the indecision that plauges my every action. Maybe the gutless sloth is a tormented being to the brink of inaction. Maybe that pain felt in indecision is justified, more helpful that the bold actions of justitice. It is the true actions of realization; realization of the fact we don't know what to do but if we want we have all the options in the world. Why do I have these choices, that very recognition is disabling. I am a cripple due to my influence.
I wish that I coul prove myself through my thinking, but I am sure that will never happen. I wish that I could be confident in my choices while remaining true to my passion. Reasons why are hard to come by in a world so set on impression I struggle to get one word in, one of meanings and easily decieved things which feed of the living limbs of other friends.
I am lost but so is the rest of the population of this fucked up nation. I am one alone, in a sea of lonley people. Will I kill myself? Would that be acceptable? Would that be spineless. Maybe spinelessness is not knowing, maybe it is the indecision that plauges my every action. Maybe the gutless sloth is a tormented being to the brink of inaction. Maybe that pain felt in indecision is justified, more helpful that the bold actions of justitice. It is the true actions of realization; realization of the fact we don't know what to do but if we want we have all the options in the world. Why do I have these choices, that very recognition is disabling. I am a cripple due to my influence.
Sep 10, 2006
I make babies
Never happy, I am never happy. I wans't designed to be happy. I was desigend to be a baby maker. to spit out my fucking sperm like a dispenser and then die and let the next ugly thing rear it;'s head. I wasn't design to be happy.
I am a robot, I am something which has a purpose and is defined by my very need to fill that purpsoe. Every day I want to fuck I want to stick my dick in something to make a baby. I what this pressure. I whate the inevitable. I hate everything which is telling me I am what I am. But, neverthe less, I have apurpose,. I am here to make babies. I am designed to be unhappy in every moment I am not making babies. Though I love, it is merely a side effect, probably the most effective way to coax me into making babies. I make babies. I make ugly little fuckers like me to run and rampage through the world. I spawn off duplicates of myself and that is all that can make me happy. Strap a straw ont to my face and tell me the only happiness I can acheive is through sucking a giant's blood; I'd do it. I am a slave to my biology. I make babies.
I am a robot, I am something which has a purpose and is defined by my very need to fill that purpsoe. Every day I want to fuck I want to stick my dick in something to make a baby. I what this pressure. I whate the inevitable. I hate everything which is telling me I am what I am. But, neverthe less, I have apurpose,. I am here to make babies. I am designed to be unhappy in every moment I am not making babies. Though I love, it is merely a side effect, probably the most effective way to coax me into making babies. I make babies. I make ugly little fuckers like me to run and rampage through the world. I spawn off duplicates of myself and that is all that can make me happy. Strap a straw ont to my face and tell me the only happiness I can acheive is through sucking a giant's blood; I'd do it. I am a slave to my biology. I make babies.
Sep 8, 2006
lonely mind
When will my voice be heard. How can it if I sit here, silently rocking, fingers move at their own pace, eyes glaze, thoughts fly. WIth all this, I am still alone. My self has each part to keep it company, my hands, my legs have each other, my eyes close together and cuddle. My mind, a lonesome useless part, envious of comfort, wanting company in it's misery. So I sit, a family of vertebrae in pain, hands disfigured at the masters command, fingers shaking in fear, feet begging to move, legs bruising in inaction. A happy mind smiles and declares lonesome victory.
bound to you
It will take the rest of my life to purge you from my mind. I try so hard to find each string and tie it with a double knot. Simple actions in my complex mind bind myself to you unwillingly. I will never forget you, not a pledge but a reality, a fact of existence. You were mind and now I can only hope that ownership doesn't exist. I can only be a rusty nail hammered into a old wooden complex, nothing but a house of frail cards begging furiously to stay together, owning out of necessity before the whole things rots and melts into the ground.
Will I never be free of myself, will I ever look in the mirror at a man who wants to be there. That stare, the most scary of all, a stare of need for something more, dissatisfaction. And without it? Without that need for something I don't have, I fold, I stop, and that is the fear, that itself is the border between want and happiness, the fear of inaction.
Less decisions is more chances of living. It takes me a thousand encounters to find you, it only takes one mistake for me to miss you. And I do. I do miss you so much, my heart shaped hole is begging to be filled. So empty, simply a container for someone, and if not, then a empty shell wanting resolution.
Whatever words I put here in this horrible box only serve to show me how little I can convey, how much of what I feel will never be seen. I can leave my mark, but it is only just a mark, an incomplete one-dimensional excuse to move on, to pretend as if I am getting through. In fact, there is no through, only about, about about about about and about. Circling the point in a downward spiral, never to hit bottom, but never to see the reaches of the top again, never to gasp in wonder at the world around. Further and further from vision, closer to my division.
And so as it starts, I bind myself to you, clinging to all I have as memories of heights. Ahead a tunnel of thoughts lost on those who shouldn't care anyways.
Will I never be free of myself, will I ever look in the mirror at a man who wants to be there. That stare, the most scary of all, a stare of need for something more, dissatisfaction. And without it? Without that need for something I don't have, I fold, I stop, and that is the fear, that itself is the border between want and happiness, the fear of inaction.
Less decisions is more chances of living. It takes me a thousand encounters to find you, it only takes one mistake for me to miss you. And I do. I do miss you so much, my heart shaped hole is begging to be filled. So empty, simply a container for someone, and if not, then a empty shell wanting resolution.
Whatever words I put here in this horrible box only serve to show me how little I can convey, how much of what I feel will never be seen. I can leave my mark, but it is only just a mark, an incomplete one-dimensional excuse to move on, to pretend as if I am getting through. In fact, there is no through, only about, about about about about and about. Circling the point in a downward spiral, never to hit bottom, but never to see the reaches of the top again, never to gasp in wonder at the world around. Further and further from vision, closer to my division.
And so as it starts, I bind myself to you, clinging to all I have as memories of heights. Ahead a tunnel of thoughts lost on those who shouldn't care anyways.
Aug 22, 2006
truth and lies
Truth is the most deceiving lie. It is a most likely story, whether in the telling or in the script. Lies help little in a world with variables. The truth is a wonderful lie left in a second for a better one.
Aug 17, 2006
a cube is wrong
a cube is wrong
Iloslated individual in a state of utter denail. Life continues without me, life in it's sense belongs to others, I belong to nothing. I place my head btween my knees and pray for the strength to be human.
Evil is a fact of existance in a deterministic world. Fuck the present and the mistakes that take exactly as they should to those who partake in the appliciation of the delete button, fuck those that intscinctiuallly preatss that back space adn tend to leave ano trace of the thoughht lefet in the after math i gcare not bnfir those mistakes and hokd to the presnte as if it woere my only havens. a world with out life is death fefining and a world with out death leaves nothing but comntempt for an alternative, I love things only so much as they let me downm and let things prnenetrate my sexistNCE ONLY SO MUCH UNTIL I BRAK DOWN.
So alone I sit with a plague of nothing over my head. People are on the other site of this wall and that one, wishing I could have them, touch them feel something more than nothing. Tired, I am tired with a need not to be. I have eaten and am now starving. I am full with an emptiness indescribable. Night time brings with it a contemplation feared by most. The moon boasts it's size and I divert my eyes to my watch; a last anchor in my exile of thought, a prod toward the next day, another try at that needle.
Share dripping words drowned in drinks. Left with a dry throat and a barren mind. Less hope than before. Passed the point of words, less is more.
and does a shell count, does it know it's fate as a container, completely unused, wash up ashore, never to hold what it was made for. The emptiness felt is one of disregard, empty by definition relentless by transition.
Sopping sweat drenched feather weightless felt right before last night, before my face lifted, my eyes saw what I want now, and now faced with what I wanted to see, is myself staring.
Life lives as a memory of possibility, an empty stage, set, waiting, ready.
Nothing can be more difficult than admitting, nothing more satisfying than the realization of misguided thought. Lovely shivers of better run down my spine, all begins to move.
auras, what are they. What makes a person's sense so speactacular that my attraction to them explodes with hesitance. What veil of shelter protects such a person from the scrutinty of reality. How can I become such a veil and throw my hand round such a perfect object.
Each time I see the shadows cast from the past I try to grab the dark nothingness and am left with a handful of heavy air. A burden to care for, a shoulder not there for, my worries now glare more, and the sun's humbling stare's cold.
Nothing is like it seems, excepting the rationale conclusion of such a statement. Done, concluded.
He starred into the distance, focal point quickly fading. No remorse. This distance speck shrinking slowly away, never to be seen again. It had smacked him in the face, and the blood was still fresh in his cheek. A concoction of anger, pain, sadness, and apathy was mixing in his eyes, slowly draining down his torso, ending at his heart; his limbs were fine. Though this event worked as expected and was most like other instances of loss in his life, somehow, it was different. It was only now he could see the unavoidable pattern. A pattern of nonsense and involuntary inaction.
I open this fucking window again and pour my thought in to this linear blabber of helvetica.
censored thoughts
Regret in the present tense
I don't know how to choose anymore
only peruse.
I now see reflections as such
my love less virbrant for a loveless crutch
Strings of beauty
love by proxy
wound up and through me,
blissful incapacity
An image I loved now painfully clear
a relfection of stars, great distance from near
the remnace reminds
but the beauty still blinds
Leaving cynicism behind me
Sincerity please find me
Pause
Wonderful silence
behind my eyelids
shades of violet
stripped of highlights
I might just try this
an unending "why is"
a life of writings
on my lonley island
Iloslated individual in a state of utter denail. Life continues without me, life in it's sense belongs to others, I belong to nothing. I place my head btween my knees and pray for the strength to be human.
Evil is a fact of existance in a deterministic world. Fuck the present and the mistakes that take exactly as they should to those who partake in the appliciation of the delete button, fuck those that intscinctiuallly preatss that back space adn tend to leave ano trace of the thoughht lefet in the after math i gcare not bnfir those mistakes and hokd to the presnte as if it woere my only havens. a world with out life is death fefining and a world with out death leaves nothing but comntempt for an alternative, I love things only so much as they let me downm and let things prnenetrate my sexistNCE ONLY SO MUCH UNTIL I BRAK DOWN.
So alone I sit with a plague of nothing over my head. People are on the other site of this wall and that one, wishing I could have them, touch them feel something more than nothing. Tired, I am tired with a need not to be. I have eaten and am now starving. I am full with an emptiness indescribable. Night time brings with it a contemplation feared by most. The moon boasts it's size and I divert my eyes to my watch; a last anchor in my exile of thought, a prod toward the next day, another try at that needle.
Share dripping words drowned in drinks. Left with a dry throat and a barren mind. Less hope than before. Passed the point of words, less is more.
and does a shell count, does it know it's fate as a container, completely unused, wash up ashore, never to hold what it was made for. The emptiness felt is one of disregard, empty by definition relentless by transition.
Sopping sweat drenched feather weightless felt right before last night, before my face lifted, my eyes saw what I want now, and now faced with what I wanted to see, is myself staring.
Life lives as a memory of possibility, an empty stage, set, waiting, ready.
Nothing can be more difficult than admitting, nothing more satisfying than the realization of misguided thought. Lovely shivers of better run down my spine, all begins to move.
auras, what are they. What makes a person's sense so speactacular that my attraction to them explodes with hesitance. What veil of shelter protects such a person from the scrutinty of reality. How can I become such a veil and throw my hand round such a perfect object.
Each time I see the shadows cast from the past I try to grab the dark nothingness and am left with a handful of heavy air. A burden to care for, a shoulder not there for, my worries now glare more, and the sun's humbling stare's cold.
Nothing is like it seems, excepting the rationale conclusion of such a statement. Done, concluded.
He starred into the distance, focal point quickly fading. No remorse. This distance speck shrinking slowly away, never to be seen again. It had smacked him in the face, and the blood was still fresh in his cheek. A concoction of anger, pain, sadness, and apathy was mixing in his eyes, slowly draining down his torso, ending at his heart; his limbs were fine. Though this event worked as expected and was most like other instances of loss in his life, somehow, it was different. It was only now he could see the unavoidable pattern. A pattern of nonsense and involuntary inaction.
I open this fucking window again and pour my thought in to this linear blabber of helvetica.
censored thoughts
Regret in the present tense
I don't know how to choose anymore
only peruse.
I now see reflections as such
my love less virbrant for a loveless crutch
Strings of beauty
love by proxy
wound up and through me,
blissful incapacity
An image I loved now painfully clear
a relfection of stars, great distance from near
the remnace reminds
but the beauty still blinds
Leaving cynicism behind me
Sincerity please find me
Pause
Wonderful silence
behind my eyelids
shades of violet
stripped of highlights
I might just try this
an unending "why is"
a life of writings
on my lonley island
Aug 9, 2006
more
auras, what are they. What makes a person's sense so speactacular that my attraction to them explodes with hesitance. What veil of shelter protects such a person from the scrutinty of reality.
How can I become such a veil and throw my hand round such a perfect object. How could I touch such a materpiece without discerning it's evident flaws. If only I could satisfy myself with more than nothing, if only wants did not bred want, and life did not live on.
How can I become such a veil and throw my hand round such a perfect object. How could I touch such a materpiece without discerning it's evident flaws. If only I could satisfy myself with more than nothing, if only wants did not bred want, and life did not live on.
Aug 7, 2006
empathy change
My uncertainty breeds an urge to see perspectives of all kinds devalued. I find, as I grow to know someone, my perspective changes from one of empathy to that of controversy. I believe it would continue to be empathy as long as the position changes, the end goal being a state of indecisiveness. Strangely enough, the more I push people to this state, the less I am growing in my own ways.
To want change in others seems to be filling a gap in ones self. To want change in ones self, is to see the world from a certain perspective. The only answer is to choose, and in doing so, is an empathy for a position of resolve.
To want change in others seems to be filling a gap in ones self. To want change in ones self, is to see the world from a certain perspective. The only answer is to choose, and in doing so, is an empathy for a position of resolve.
Aug 4, 2006
pinktimes
It is in this time of bliss and satisfaction that the pen moves slowly to a halt. No trace of the joy, mind only clutching the moment. Soon in times of sorrow and despair, the pen flows so smoothly, dancing in the freedom of clarity, pacing round the border of subjectivity. Now what of my wonderful times, the pink glazed tints, and the sweet melody of love. The only trace: a white outline round my silver cloud.
Aug 3, 2006
Be Human
Would I should I could I write more.
Left lonely in my room hoping for a chance to see another. A voyeuristic fantisy, no backbone to make up for the biological urge. Iloslated individual in a state of utter denail. Life continues without me, life in it's sense belongs to others, I belong to nothing. I should go back to my master, one of darkness and thought. THe eessence of thosut its the reality that nothing is there and nothing will be there.. All is yet to be determined. WHen that day comes, the verdict remains subject to change from any given source.
A life of unssurance, a time of unforgiveness. I place my head btween my knees and pray for the strength to be human.
Left lonely in my room hoping for a chance to see another. A voyeuristic fantisy, no backbone to make up for the biological urge. Iloslated individual in a state of utter denail. Life continues without me, life in it's sense belongs to others, I belong to nothing. I should go back to my master, one of darkness and thought. THe eessence of thosut its the reality that nothing is there and nothing will be there.. All is yet to be determined. WHen that day comes, the verdict remains subject to change from any given source.
A life of unssurance, a time of unforgiveness. I place my head btween my knees and pray for the strength to be human.
delete
Evil is a fact of existance in a deterministic world. Fuck the present and the mistakes that take exactly as they should to those who partake in the appliciation of the delete button, fuck those that intscinctiuallly preatss that back space adn tend to leave ano trace of the thoughht lefet in the after math i gcare not bnfir those mistakes and hokd to the presnte as if it woere my only havens. a world with out life is death fefining and a world with out death leaves nothing but comntempt for an alternative, I love things only so much as they let me downm and let things prnenetrate my sexistNCE ONLY SO MUCH UNTIL I BRAK DOWN.
inclusion
Inclusion exculsion, what is the subtraction from my method, what can I add to satisfy the constraints of this puzzle. My life, a conundrum, unsolvable puzzle, with a restful end.
Lasting less leaving more letters relearning lengthly lessons left right wrong test me try me take me you don't exist
and does a shell count, does it know it's fate as a container, completely unused, wash up ashore, never to hold what it was made for. The emptiness felt is one of disregard, empty by definition relentless by transition.
Longing for that cloud infront of my face. A disguise for normality, a blinding comfort in what could have always been had. Sopping sweat drenched feather weightless felt right before last night, before my face lifted, my eyes saw what I want now, and now faced with what I wanted to see, is myself staring.
I know, so speak to someone as they are, no regard for yourself, to speak as yourself through them and see a new again. Long for that moment, when it comes you cannot savour it, you are blind. Blind again in the bliss behind in a moments turning lists itself to infinitely as wishes wash close to me less of me than before begets regrets chain me with comforting cuff those fuzzy kinds of kink I think I wanted but after the thought the pleasure was an afterthought.
25 years yet to be decided then light field of high rises pull me from a density of compromises.
And then I said what? what did you say I don't know I was listen so hard that I didn't catch it, some times I slip into or on a conversation. I fell right on my ass there, embarassed left loving others, light loads are obvious, the hidden burden is so much heavier. Life is nothing, I feel and it means so little, so much of it is lost in time. Traveling is a blur, just as much as travelers are on trains to somewhere else.
And these, my only record, my own cords to connection with myself, seeing things through slaps from my unconscious, more conscious of my pain, my life, my feelings, my problems. Living unconscious of my consciousness, unconscious of the things in my face, obviousness breeds misinterpretation, in her rationality she sends me into a slumber. To love chaos and be impotent of it. Ideas pour from my soul, but an idea of a soul; the only pressing concern left to uncover, that it all spills in the end. A leveling of liquid, and faced with less than nothing, faced with gravity's ultimate triumph of over my will.
Escape my holding, my grip on my own self. Just try to escape what pulls at my bellybutton. Pushing through my skin in its own discomfort, words trail like endings of a bad story.
In the midst of others, alone to wonder what lacks.
Lasting less leaving more letters relearning lengthly lessons left right wrong test me try me take me you don't exist
and does a shell count, does it know it's fate as a container, completely unused, wash up ashore, never to hold what it was made for. The emptiness felt is one of disregard, empty by definition relentless by transition.
Longing for that cloud infront of my face. A disguise for normality, a blinding comfort in what could have always been had. Sopping sweat drenched feather weightless felt right before last night, before my face lifted, my eyes saw what I want now, and now faced with what I wanted to see, is myself staring.
I know, so speak to someone as they are, no regard for yourself, to speak as yourself through them and see a new again. Long for that moment, when it comes you cannot savour it, you are blind. Blind again in the bliss behind in a moments turning lists itself to infinitely as wishes wash close to me less of me than before begets regrets chain me with comforting cuff those fuzzy kinds of kink I think I wanted but after the thought the pleasure was an afterthought.
25 years yet to be decided then light field of high rises pull me from a density of compromises.
And then I said what? what did you say I don't know I was listen so hard that I didn't catch it, some times I slip into or on a conversation. I fell right on my ass there, embarassed left loving others, light loads are obvious, the hidden burden is so much heavier. Life is nothing, I feel and it means so little, so much of it is lost in time. Traveling is a blur, just as much as travelers are on trains to somewhere else.
And these, my only record, my own cords to connection with myself, seeing things through slaps from my unconscious, more conscious of my pain, my life, my feelings, my problems. Living unconscious of my consciousness, unconscious of the things in my face, obviousness breeds misinterpretation, in her rationality she sends me into a slumber. To love chaos and be impotent of it. Ideas pour from my soul, but an idea of a soul; the only pressing concern left to uncover, that it all spills in the end. A leveling of liquid, and faced with less than nothing, faced with gravity's ultimate triumph of over my will.
Escape my holding, my grip on my own self. Just try to escape what pulls at my bellybutton. Pushing through my skin in its own discomfort, words trail like endings of a bad story.
In the midst of others, alone to wonder what lacks.
Jul 17, 2006
ireland
to sooth the paining expectation of social connection with the familiarity of family. Run through the same, stuck clasping for the next rung. To need the moment so badly and then discard it as unripe. Life lives as a memory of possibility, an empty stage, set, waiting, ready.
This encompassing grip of forced reality begs my patience and tests my will. The sky so full with space, my mind empty with thought. A star in the distance shining so brightly I can feel it, a bug buzzing round my head so large it strangles my attention.
So in the lonely time spent with others, feelings of remorse for this instance make their way through my bones. Feeling the chill of death creeping from my past to my future, moments fleeting with the smugness of life lessons. Reach for that last gasp of air, the fresh breathe of unthought.
Pull my self from a chair to an ear of someone near. Nothing can be more difficult than admitting, nothing more satisfying than the realization of misguided thought. Lovely shivers of better run down my spine, all begins to move.
This encompassing grip of forced reality begs my patience and tests my will. The sky so full with space, my mind empty with thought. A star in the distance shining so brightly I can feel it, a bug buzzing round my head so large it strangles my attention.
So in the lonely time spent with others, feelings of remorse for this instance make their way through my bones. Feeling the chill of death creeping from my past to my future, moments fleeting with the smugness of life lessons. Reach for that last gasp of air, the fresh breathe of unthought.
Pull my self from a chair to an ear of someone near. Nothing can be more difficult than admitting, nothing more satisfying than the realization of misguided thought. Lovely shivers of better run down my spine, all begins to move.
Jun 12, 2006
prophecy2
That which is to be expected is not aligned with the interests of what is. Change entails the unexpected and unaccounted for. It is hidden in plain view waiting to be embraced. The Movement of a river is constant and so change begets change, flowing naturally with time.
To know is to choose, this it shall be said will define our direction. Opt not for more choices, but for diverse perspectives. Useful is the choice of clarity, and comparison is the path. Framed is the statement presented without bias. Fair when all statements speak clearly in turn. Wise is the man who with a blindfold chooses before looking, for he knows within, the choice is true.
Connection taketh from one the fruits of sharing, and bestow upon another with both the richer. Life lives between the parts and flows through it's hosts. Stimulus and response are small signals of deeper workings. A reflection on nature, and of nature, with nature can be molded. As one, we understand the wholeness within our smaller worlds.
To know is to choose, this it shall be said will define our direction. Opt not for more choices, but for diverse perspectives. Useful is the choice of clarity, and comparison is the path. Framed is the statement presented without bias. Fair when all statements speak clearly in turn. Wise is the man who with a blindfold chooses before looking, for he knows within, the choice is true.
Connection taketh from one the fruits of sharing, and bestow upon another with both the richer. Life lives between the parts and flows through it's hosts. Stimulus and response are small signals of deeper workings. A reflection on nature, and of nature, with nature can be molded. As one, we understand the wholeness within our smaller worlds.
prophetic
And with reason he said: of all that is clear here, much has become clear to me; and it is that which rings true which is clear for all.
Little more can be said of what exists. What more is, is the telling silence of what could be.
Objections are directionless gestures of defeat. From the valley came a great storm. One of need for those lost in struggle. That which is, is not. That which could be is.
Love for those you could call friends is the absence of knowledge for what you could call god.
To him, it seemed an obvious truth. The madness of day translates to the unrestful nights.
A symptom of a larger fact, we all stick to what repels us. A magnet must constantly be aware of where not to go. The destination becomes secondary as we focus on the undesirable.
Truth, which can be said of myself, can surely be true of others. Failure is commonplace and success greets us all in the face of defeat.
The numbers of change tell little of what is. It is inevitable such truths will be passed upon feeling and intuition plays sweet songs of certainly on my spine; only lingering melodies to my mind.
It is said here that who is wise lacks action, and who is cunning lacks purpose. The perfection in the game amounts to a game played alone.
To bring light to beauty is more noble than the creation of any object. It is to selflessly admit ownership of oneself to the greatness abound. It is to humbly give in to the unknown forces which present all clarity.
It was not a sound of outright denial, rather a tap on the shoulder. Swinging one round to the dizzying stupor of realization and the satisfaction of affection.
Wrenching oneself from the grip of necessity is painful, but crippling is the denial of the wound.
The voices of persuasion spoke so loudly in their own halls. The echos resounded to deafening heights. Conversations was little more than an inconsistent flow of words.
One room would bring silence and choice would be informed through concise message.
What mass of Organic matter could account for the mind of such precision. Informed as it is, it was what is always.
Life knew itself before the mind and planned accordingly
Though the plan lay clear, the perception of itself was not apparent.
Blindness mattered little until patchy vision was acquired. With the image of the light, never again would the blind be satisfied with the complacent darkness.
Feeding the urges, gradually the need grew. An eye which could pierce the darkness began to form.
Little more can be said of what exists. What more is, is the telling silence of what could be.
Objections are directionless gestures of defeat. From the valley came a great storm. One of need for those lost in struggle. That which is, is not. That which could be is.
Love for those you could call friends is the absence of knowledge for what you could call god.
To him, it seemed an obvious truth. The madness of day translates to the unrestful nights.
A symptom of a larger fact, we all stick to what repels us. A magnet must constantly be aware of where not to go. The destination becomes secondary as we focus on the undesirable.
Truth, which can be said of myself, can surely be true of others. Failure is commonplace and success greets us all in the face of defeat.
The numbers of change tell little of what is. It is inevitable such truths will be passed upon feeling and intuition plays sweet songs of certainly on my spine; only lingering melodies to my mind.
It is said here that who is wise lacks action, and who is cunning lacks purpose. The perfection in the game amounts to a game played alone.
To bring light to beauty is more noble than the creation of any object. It is to selflessly admit ownership of oneself to the greatness abound. It is to humbly give in to the unknown forces which present all clarity.
It was not a sound of outright denial, rather a tap on the shoulder. Swinging one round to the dizzying stupor of realization and the satisfaction of affection.
Wrenching oneself from the grip of necessity is painful, but crippling is the denial of the wound.
The voices of persuasion spoke so loudly in their own halls. The echos resounded to deafening heights. Conversations was little more than an inconsistent flow of words.
One room would bring silence and choice would be informed through concise message.
What mass of Organic matter could account for the mind of such precision. Informed as it is, it was what is always.
Life knew itself before the mind and planned accordingly
Though the plan lay clear, the perception of itself was not apparent.
Blindness mattered little until patchy vision was acquired. With the image of the light, never again would the blind be satisfied with the complacent darkness.
Feeding the urges, gradually the need grew. An eye which could pierce the darkness began to form.
May 16, 2006
not there
When you're saying so much more than those words coming out of your mouth, I have to pause and think about things I didn't know I had in my head.
When I saw before what you said it seems that talk is not such a tricky though. Now what I've seen stirs in me, a new light shed on voices read, long since dead. Each time I see the shadows cast from the past I try to grab the dark nothingness and am left with a handful of heavy air. A burden to care for, a shoulder not there for, my worries now glare more, and the sun's humbling stare's cold.
When I saw before what you said it seems that talk is not such a tricky though. Now what I've seen stirs in me, a new light shed on voices read, long since dead. Each time I see the shadows cast from the past I try to grab the dark nothingness and am left with a handful of heavy air. A burden to care for, a shoulder not there for, my worries now glare more, and the sun's humbling stare's cold.
May 10, 2006
Spectrum of Thought
The visual spectrum is a number of waves. Along these waves travel light, sounds, heat, and other labels for the same type of thing.
I would assert, that our thoughts fall along a spectrum not unlike that of electromagnetic radiation.
What is interesting about light, is that you can go deeper and deeper into the spectrum for infinity. These means, that there is an infinite amount of colours, which in turn means, there is an infinite distance between colours.
Now, the Human brain can only perceive parts of the spectrum of colour; from just slower than ultraviolet to just faster than infra red. Despite the wide spectrum of colour, our mind can only relay a small fraction to our visual perceptions. At a point, these invisible waves become audible sounds, this ranges from the highest sound of 33*hz to the lowest sounds of 3*hz. Once we travel deeper than that lowest sound we reach silence. In this silence we find vibration, this can be sensed both indirectly by our eyes, and directly by our sense of touch.
As we can see, our body has 3 different ways to show us varied levels along the same spectrum. Some of these coincide(Lightning & Thunder), while others do not(colour, music, and wind).
When we apply this model to the realm of thoughts, how does the metaphor hold up? We can take the example of the thought of an apple. We may picture a typical apple, possibly green, or red, or a combination of both. Or some may think of the crunch an apple makes when you bite it. there may be some who have never tried a real apple but have had an apple candy, so they may think of green sweetness. No matter what the word "apple" brings to mind, it remains a varied perception for all of us. Though our perceptions of that apple may be different across the board, when given an apple, we can all agree on it's identity. This validation relies on us being able to engage the object in the way which we are familiar. I must see it is green if that's how I know it, I must taste it if that's how I know it.
Now we can see, that the concept of the apple is not different, it is the perceptions which cover different parts of what an apple is. We could say that our different ideas of apple, all fall under the thought of apple.
Since this concept is agreed upon, we can also apply this to many other words, or ideas in our language. The ideas then can be divided into a spectrum with either end being a measurable fact, but with many other facts accompanying the measured quality.
Human sight cannot see all waves of electromagnetism, why would human thought be able to perceive all waves of thought. By the same rule, if human touch can sense some waves of the electromagnetic spectrum, why wouldn't it be plausible that there are other capacities of the human senses which perceive thought better in some spectrums than others.
This would explain why some people are amazing at thinking in certain ways(savants). Like a blind man with an amazing sense of hearing, savants develop a specific sense over others.
This spectrum may cover disciples like science, math, literature, art, design, etc. These may be closer or further from each other, but very close on the spectrum at large.
Other thought may include anger, love, joy, sadness, and other emotions which are felt by our hearts. Further more, we may feel guilt, unity, enlightenment, transcendence , and other spiritual phenomena, which would be felt by our souls.
This spectrum of thought, much like our audible spectrum would be weighted toward certain areas since they are more palatable. Western music has a classical scale, western philosophy has a classic theoretical approach.
Humans write things down. They tells stories to preserve thoughts. These thoughts sometimes cover many spectrums, and others cover very little ground.
We can look at progress at the covering of breath and depths of ideas. Stagnancy then, is the covering of no ideas. Another take on stagnancy, it the covering of small distances, or the small variation a the same level. Wearing a black hat instead of an off-black hat, building a box with plastic instead of a box with concrete.
To progress, we must have a variation of a great distance, or of deeper insight.
Thought can only be perceived through different perspectives, and the diversity of criteria. One concept in the head, covers an infinite amount of thoughts in realty. She can drive a blue car car, with a leather interior, with 2 doors, with 5 cup holders, etc...
So our concepts cover a wide variety of thoughts which we can use to then communicate. If we had to classify every word we used, the conversation would be infinite. If we had to classify every thought to think of it, we are just being normal. In order to understand thoughts, we create concepts to contain them. We classify and relate, through this constant conceptualizing of thoughts, we build a better understanding of the thoughts contained in that concept.
It is quite fathomable that along the spectrum of thought, there are many waves we cannot perceive; the are out of our thinking range. In mathematics there are many short cuts, or tools to avoid thinking about things which we cannot, such as invisible numbers. Much like a microscope can see deeper waves, and an oscillator can see higher waves, our tools of understanding give up a vision of what the spectrums we cannot perceive look like. These tools include mapping, metaphors, meditation, etc.
I would assert, that our thoughts fall along a spectrum not unlike that of electromagnetic radiation.
What is interesting about light, is that you can go deeper and deeper into the spectrum for infinity. These means, that there is an infinite amount of colours, which in turn means, there is an infinite distance between colours.
Now, the Human brain can only perceive parts of the spectrum of colour; from just slower than ultraviolet to just faster than infra red. Despite the wide spectrum of colour, our mind can only relay a small fraction to our visual perceptions. At a point, these invisible waves become audible sounds, this ranges from the highest sound of 33*hz to the lowest sounds of 3*hz. Once we travel deeper than that lowest sound we reach silence. In this silence we find vibration, this can be sensed both indirectly by our eyes, and directly by our sense of touch.
As we can see, our body has 3 different ways to show us varied levels along the same spectrum. Some of these coincide(Lightning & Thunder), while others do not(colour, music, and wind).
When we apply this model to the realm of thoughts, how does the metaphor hold up? We can take the example of the thought of an apple. We may picture a typical apple, possibly green, or red, or a combination of both. Or some may think of the crunch an apple makes when you bite it. there may be some who have never tried a real apple but have had an apple candy, so they may think of green sweetness. No matter what the word "apple" brings to mind, it remains a varied perception for all of us. Though our perceptions of that apple may be different across the board, when given an apple, we can all agree on it's identity. This validation relies on us being able to engage the object in the way which we are familiar. I must see it is green if that's how I know it, I must taste it if that's how I know it.
Now we can see, that the concept of the apple is not different, it is the perceptions which cover different parts of what an apple is. We could say that our different ideas of apple, all fall under the thought of apple.
Since this concept is agreed upon, we can also apply this to many other words, or ideas in our language. The ideas then can be divided into a spectrum with either end being a measurable fact, but with many other facts accompanying the measured quality.
Human sight cannot see all waves of electromagnetism, why would human thought be able to perceive all waves of thought. By the same rule, if human touch can sense some waves of the electromagnetic spectrum, why wouldn't it be plausible that there are other capacities of the human senses which perceive thought better in some spectrums than others.
This would explain why some people are amazing at thinking in certain ways(savants). Like a blind man with an amazing sense of hearing, savants develop a specific sense over others.
This spectrum may cover disciples like science, math, literature, art, design, etc. These may be closer or further from each other, but very close on the spectrum at large.
Other thought may include anger, love, joy, sadness, and other emotions which are felt by our hearts. Further more, we may feel guilt, unity, enlightenment, transcendence , and other spiritual phenomena, which would be felt by our souls.
This spectrum of thought, much like our audible spectrum would be weighted toward certain areas since they are more palatable. Western music has a classical scale, western philosophy has a classic theoretical approach.
Humans write things down. They tells stories to preserve thoughts. These thoughts sometimes cover many spectrums, and others cover very little ground.
We can look at progress at the covering of breath and depths of ideas. Stagnancy then, is the covering of no ideas. Another take on stagnancy, it the covering of small distances, or the small variation a the same level. Wearing a black hat instead of an off-black hat, building a box with plastic instead of a box with concrete.
To progress, we must have a variation of a great distance, or of deeper insight.
Thought can only be perceived through different perspectives, and the diversity of criteria. One concept in the head, covers an infinite amount of thoughts in realty. She can drive a blue car car, with a leather interior, with 2 doors, with 5 cup holders, etc...
So our concepts cover a wide variety of thoughts which we can use to then communicate. If we had to classify every word we used, the conversation would be infinite. If we had to classify every thought to think of it, we are just being normal. In order to understand thoughts, we create concepts to contain them. We classify and relate, through this constant conceptualizing of thoughts, we build a better understanding of the thoughts contained in that concept.
It is quite fathomable that along the spectrum of thought, there are many waves we cannot perceive; the are out of our thinking range. In mathematics there are many short cuts, or tools to avoid thinking about things which we cannot, such as invisible numbers. Much like a microscope can see deeper waves, and an oscillator can see higher waves, our tools of understanding give up a vision of what the spectrums we cannot perceive look like. These tools include mapping, metaphors, meditation, etc.
May 5, 2006
empty
Life lessons last time you said the last time was next. Now I never nick things as hard as can things try not to brin themselves to work, school, play the fool leave people behind in the dust of my time is precious and last people left us in a state of nothingness, little left to say and even less to hear. My sounds are grounded in phyiscal fact, yet my mind recoils back. No feeling compares to the nails on the chalk board in my mind in my times I'm bored and lying... to myself.
So alone I sit with a plague of nothing over my head. People are on the other site of this wall and that one, wishing I could have them, touch them feel something more than nothing.
Tired, I am tired with a need not to be. I have eaten and am now starving. I am full with an emptiness indescribable. Night time brings with it a contemplation feared by most. The moon boasts it's size and I divert my eyes to my watch; a last anchor in my exile of thought, a prod toward the next day, another try at that needle.
Words bead on my car of freedom. Driving right beside people I can't touch, no feeling. Going as fast as we can, to get to the bar.
Share words drowned in drinks. Left with a dry throat and a barren mind. Less hope than before. Passed the point of words, less is more.
So alone I sit with a plague of nothing over my head. People are on the other site of this wall and that one, wishing I could have them, touch them feel something more than nothing.
Tired, I am tired with a need not to be. I have eaten and am now starving. I am full with an emptiness indescribable. Night time brings with it a contemplation feared by most. The moon boasts it's size and I divert my eyes to my watch; a last anchor in my exile of thought, a prod toward the next day, another try at that needle.
Words bead on my car of freedom. Driving right beside people I can't touch, no feeling. Going as fast as we can, to get to the bar.
Share words drowned in drinks. Left with a dry throat and a barren mind. Less hope than before. Passed the point of words, less is more.
Apr 22, 2006
wrenching
each and every time
push myself, nightly
a barrage of fight with in me
tightly grasp each sense of my being
here tears hide from view, a detached lack of a clue
every option open, still hoping
a better way might open up
a passifying shrug
disinterest mugs, hide the doubt pouring out of my face
and if I could just finish the race
a timed dance with doves so high, no chance
still no motivation, lack thereof, still in waiting
still sense, still movements,
still in times where we needed you to
still I wait, in still of frames
passed by quickly still feel sick
I want it, I want it so bad I can't taste it
I can't touch one drip drop of it
lack the words to describe the wrenching gut
censored thoughts
Regrets in the present tense
I leave my mind stiil, my body does the rest
a quick stall, a hasty walk,
eliminate the candy coated sugar talk
options stalk my thought
incapacitate my wait time
lines seem to alleviate the pressure
With so many options, actions still within range
other would kill for my opportunities
they can have them, I can't do anything with it,
still grim and still within it.
I hate this shit, I hate the pretend thought I put here
I can't even get across what I am feeling
I have this fucking aweful feeling of an impending crunch
something has to give
waiting for something to force me to a better life
this is the hardest thing I have ever had to do
to fail, to truly show my desire and have it reject,
No, that would be easy
it's the rejection of uncertain choices I fear,
I don't know how to choose anymore
only peruse.
push myself, nightly
a barrage of fight with in me
tightly grasp each sense of my being
here tears hide from view, a detached lack of a clue
every option open, still hoping
a better way might open up
a passifying shrug
disinterest mugs, hide the doubt pouring out of my face
and if I could just finish the race
a timed dance with doves so high, no chance
still no motivation, lack thereof, still in waiting
still sense, still movements,
still in times where we needed you to
still I wait, in still of frames
passed by quickly still feel sick
I want it, I want it so bad I can't taste it
I can't touch one drip drop of it
lack the words to describe the wrenching gut
censored thoughts
Regrets in the present tense
I leave my mind stiil, my body does the rest
a quick stall, a hasty walk,
eliminate the candy coated sugar talk
options stalk my thought
incapacitate my wait time
lines seem to alleviate the pressure
With so many options, actions still within range
other would kill for my opportunities
they can have them, I can't do anything with it,
still grim and still within it.
I hate this shit, I hate the pretend thought I put here
I can't even get across what I am feeling
I have this fucking aweful feeling of an impending crunch
something has to give
waiting for something to force me to a better life
this is the hardest thing I have ever had to do
to fail, to truly show my desire and have it reject,
No, that would be easy
it's the rejection of uncertain choices I fear,
I don't know how to choose anymore
only peruse.
Mar 18, 2006
poems
A pull, a warm
tiny shot of what seems so right
lost insights lead others to infight
Twisted,
you're mind is fucked as mine is
I try to get behind this
but sometimes it hurts despite
I'm not interested
you listened but your mind is still not tested
I find your demeaner unrested
worst of all, unrequested.
I don't want to play a game
not this one, the same repititious blabber
far from matters at hand
matters not can.
fuck this no chance romance
thanks very much, but keep your hands in your pants
I lack the sense to navigate
always late, never state what you meant to say
frail and jealous, try not to oversell it.
I can't see myself in 2 year less zealous
Confidence rises to the occasion, lack of interest falls but behaviour draws to a close.
My nose detects a slight of irrelevance
bullshit followed by a lound noise
holds coy glaces, and false prances in the field of akward dances.
Pity lacks it's own metric
seldom cracks the code eccentric.
tiny shot of what seems so right
lost insights lead others to infight
Twisted,
you're mind is fucked as mine is
I try to get behind this
but sometimes it hurts despite
I'm not interested
you listened but your mind is still not tested
I find your demeaner unrested
worst of all, unrequested.
I don't want to play a game
not this one, the same repititious blabber
far from matters at hand
matters not can.
fuck this no chance romance
thanks very much, but keep your hands in your pants
I lack the sense to navigate
always late, never state what you meant to say
frail and jealous, try not to oversell it.
I can't see myself in 2 year less zealous
Confidence rises to the occasion, lack of interest falls but behaviour draws to a close.
My nose detects a slight of irrelevance
bullshit followed by a lound noise
holds coy glaces, and false prances in the field of akward dances.
Pity lacks it's own metric
seldom cracks the code eccentric.
Oct 27, 2005
Privacy isn't dead, it was stillborn.
Personal information is currency in a consumer society. It allows for prediction and strategy. Rewards cards, credit cards, contests, transponders, websites, subscriptions, donations, investments, bill payments; they all require of tracking. Is this a bad thing, that's the issue. If you look at your life as property, something you own, then you could classify this as theft. However, if you look at your life as a natural phenomena then observation can only further exploration. The more we learn about how people live, the more insight we will have on how we can change and grow. Unfortunately, most people take the ownership approach to their personal information. Even the phrase "personal information" sounds like a very private thing, which is why the issue is so deceiving. In a small town everyone knows your business, this is what allows for town meetings, participatory politics, and culture in general. When a population grows beyond a certain size, some people say 150, it becomes less of a cohesive unit and begins to rely more on institutional rather than communal organization. This is necessary for a large community to maintain it's order.
Back to privacy though. Since a person in this mass society non longer knows all about the other people's lives there is no lifestyle checks. On the of overusing a metaphor, we are like ants in many ways. Ants communicate to each other and send simple messages in a distributed way. There is no central organization and there is no privacy. If ants started keeping secrets, there would be no way to know where the food is, or what the next job should be. Likewise, in a society where privacy is prized highly, lifestyle is a very difficult thing to gauge. In fact, most people's concept of the ideal lifestyle is actually based on a fictional image portrayed by the media. The only people's personal lives who you see are celebrities playing real people. Obvious examples of the fiction portrayed by media include, characters never going to the toilet, never having credit card problems, being able to afford high fashion and plasma TVs with a part-time job. All of these examples are the new wave of advertising. It's about product placement, but more so about lifestyle suggestion.
Since the only rubric we have to base ourselves against is provided to use by a media source with the foremost interest in selling, we begin to see selling as an average thing and struggle to keep up to the lifestyle which we believe our fellow humans are leading.
The unfortunate point about all of this is that it has been brought on, not by the greedy corporation, but by the paranoid consumer. Consumer research firms have vast amounts of information on you that your neighbour or even relatives would have no idea about. The food you buy, the clothes you like, the sites you visit, the gum you like; all of these things are on record. Now, is this a bad thing? No, it's not. How would a company come up with the idea that they need a gum with more punch if they hadn't found out from statistics. They may be motivated by the sale, buy the consumer is the one to please. Granted, most purchases are based on emotional sells, but once again, what is the problem. These information collection agencies spend tons of money to compile information about you, why shouldn't they get a share. Just as a scientist who discovers a new cure should get the credit so should the personal who discovers your email.
But they're selling YOUR INFORMATION. They are making money off of what you can provide for free.
Not only are you losing money by letting others make the sale, you are also loosing out on a vibrant local community. Though you have mass amounts of information collected by these companies, neither you, nor your relatives, nor your close friends have access to it. GAP, McDonalds, Cokes, and all those big corporations you hate are able to survive because of your information. The mom and pops groceries store down the street can compete, they don't have the capital to invest into paying for your information. Let me make this clear, local businesses cannot compete because corporate offices know more about those local residents.
So what is there to loose, why not give away your information? Well, the only people who have something to loose are those very people who have access to your information in the first place. Their advantage is that you are obsessed with privacy.
Back to privacy though. Since a person in this mass society non longer knows all about the other people's lives there is no lifestyle checks. On the of overusing a metaphor, we are like ants in many ways. Ants communicate to each other and send simple messages in a distributed way. There is no central organization and there is no privacy. If ants started keeping secrets, there would be no way to know where the food is, or what the next job should be. Likewise, in a society where privacy is prized highly, lifestyle is a very difficult thing to gauge. In fact, most people's concept of the ideal lifestyle is actually based on a fictional image portrayed by the media. The only people's personal lives who you see are celebrities playing real people. Obvious examples of the fiction portrayed by media include, characters never going to the toilet, never having credit card problems, being able to afford high fashion and plasma TVs with a part-time job. All of these examples are the new wave of advertising. It's about product placement, but more so about lifestyle suggestion.
Since the only rubric we have to base ourselves against is provided to use by a media source with the foremost interest in selling, we begin to see selling as an average thing and struggle to keep up to the lifestyle which we believe our fellow humans are leading.
The unfortunate point about all of this is that it has been brought on, not by the greedy corporation, but by the paranoid consumer. Consumer research firms have vast amounts of information on you that your neighbour or even relatives would have no idea about. The food you buy, the clothes you like, the sites you visit, the gum you like; all of these things are on record. Now, is this a bad thing? No, it's not. How would a company come up with the idea that they need a gum with more punch if they hadn't found out from statistics. They may be motivated by the sale, buy the consumer is the one to please. Granted, most purchases are based on emotional sells, but once again, what is the problem. These information collection agencies spend tons of money to compile information about you, why shouldn't they get a share. Just as a scientist who discovers a new cure should get the credit so should the personal who discovers your email.
But they're selling YOUR INFORMATION. They are making money off of what you can provide for free.
Not only are you losing money by letting others make the sale, you are also loosing out on a vibrant local community. Though you have mass amounts of information collected by these companies, neither you, nor your relatives, nor your close friends have access to it. GAP, McDonalds, Cokes, and all those big corporations you hate are able to survive because of your information. The mom and pops groceries store down the street can compete, they don't have the capital to invest into paying for your information. Let me make this clear, local businesses cannot compete because corporate offices know more about those local residents.
So what is there to loose, why not give away your information? Well, the only people who have something to loose are those very people who have access to your information in the first place. Their advantage is that you are obsessed with privacy.
Oct 10, 2005
Just got back from Belfast today. It seems like a pretty cool city. It's more real than Dublin and much bigger than Cork or Galway. I am staying at Creggan which is a small village outside of Omagh. It's nice to have a cottage where I can keep my stuff and come home to the same bed everyday.
I have been thinking a lot about navigation and orientation. It seems that most of cognitive human activity is about finding out where you are and where you are trying to get to, and then getting there. I think the principles of getting around in physical space share much in common with the navigation of cognitive space, or information space. These activities usually require a map, since they have probably already been scouted and understood by previous travelers(Spaces which are undiscovered are quite a different issue where a map is made rather than understood).
The first action is to find out where you are. This can be done by finding two connecting axis. This could be roads, rivers, mountains, valleys, etc. In information space it could be categories, subjects, dates, authors, etc.
Another method of self-orientation could be through landmarks which is a self-sufficient locator. This could be a statue, a tree, a house, a rock, etc. In an information space, landmarks could be a known previously know concept such as a famous event(the birth of christ), a categorical concept(fruits & veggies), a logical assumption(2+2=4), etc...
Navigation in information space.
I have been thinking a lot about navigation and orientation. It seems that most of cognitive human activity is about finding out where you are and where you are trying to get to, and then getting there. I think the principles of getting around in physical space share much in common with the navigation of cognitive space, or information space. These activities usually require a map, since they have probably already been scouted and understood by previous travelers(Spaces which are undiscovered are quite a different issue where a map is made rather than understood).
The first action is to find out where you are. This can be done by finding two connecting axis. This could be roads, rivers, mountains, valleys, etc. In information space it could be categories, subjects, dates, authors, etc.
Another method of self-orientation could be through landmarks which is a self-sufficient locator. This could be a statue, a tree, a house, a rock, etc. In an information space, landmarks could be a known previously know concept such as a famous event(the birth of christ), a categorical concept(fruits & veggies), a logical assumption(2+2=4), etc...
Navigation in information space.
Oct 2, 2005
In a hotel in Ireland, and I finally have internet access thanks to my sis. We have been to Cork, Galway, and are now back in Dublin. So far it has been pretty pricey here but a lot of fun as well. We have stayed in many a hostel, but tonight we may have a couch from a stranger we met in Galway.
On the train to Holland now. It's going to take until 11:30 for me to get there. I started this journey at 11:45 this morning. That's 12 hours on the train and 100+ Euros less in my pocket.
Copenhagen was such a well designed city. Everything was within walking distance, the housing was nicely integrated with commercial areas, there were huge walkways for pedestrians and well paved roads for bikes. I have never experienced a city that was so well thought out.
On the note of thinking, I have figure out how to create an expandable record keeping database. it consists of concepts, properties, relations, and the latest addition: truthstructures. The main goal is to have a non destructive format for collective data management. In short, it will allow people to talk about the same thing without writing it twice.
Copenhagen was such a well designed city. Everything was within walking distance, the housing was nicely integrated with commercial areas, there were huge walkways for pedestrians and well paved roads for bikes. I have never experienced a city that was so well thought out.
On the note of thinking, I have figure out how to create an expandable record keeping database. it consists of concepts, properties, relations, and the latest addition: truthstructures. The main goal is to have a non destructive format for collective data management. In short, it will allow people to talk about the same thing without writing it twice.
I'm inside the train station now on my way to Helsingborg or something. I am gonna grab a ride with a guy named Patrick to Hamburg. From there I am not sure what will happen. The train from Hamburg to Maastricht would cost 72 Euros and that's a bit pricey for me. I found a ride to Duesseldorf and I think I will take that, which means I will stay overnight in Hamburg. My other option is to see whats up with the other people in the car, maybe I can work out a place to stay.
As far as thought goes, I am thinking about a collective budgeting system. I really want to know how much money other people spend on things so that I can make better decisions. I think it would be good for people to publish their spending. It could be anonymous if needed, but would be better if those people could share information, deals, suggestions, etc..
Please comment if you would or would not be interested in such a system, what advantages/disadvantages there could be.
As far as thought goes, I am thinking about a collective budgeting system. I really want to know how much money other people spend on things so that I can make better decisions. I think it would be good for people to publish their spending. It could be anonymous if needed, but would be better if those people could share information, deals, suggestions, etc..
Please comment if you would or would not be interested in such a system, what advantages/disadvantages there could be.
Sep 22, 2005
Last night was the mini saturday in Sweden. We went to an English Pub style place, an Irish Karaoke bar, a stylish lounge, and an old theatre turned into a club. Meet some people from the town and they all spoke english pretty well. There seems to be a strong connection between Sweden and Ireland & UK. I met a 20 year-old who is going to Ireland with his girlfriend to find work. Everyone here has different english accents, its funny. The first guy had an american accent, then a Scottish, then an Irish, then a British, no Australian yet.
I have found a ride to Hamburg tomorrow. I will meet him by the Ferry. His name is Patrick as well. I have to find a connections from Hamburg to Maastricht, but that shouldn't be a problem(I hope).
I have found a ride to Hamburg tomorrow. I will meet him by the Ferry. His name is Patrick as well. I have to find a connections from Hamburg to Maastricht, but that shouldn't be a problem(I hope).
Sep 19, 2005
The weather is quite nice here and I am finally in a house. It was a strenuous journey to get here. First of all, I got dropped off at 3:00AM and the station only opened at 5:30AM. So I waited. Then, when the station opened, all of the machines were broken. An hour or so later I still could not for the life of me figure out the way to buy a ticket. Finally when a lady came to fix the machines I asked her how to work it. Apparently Sweden has it's own currency, so she said I must change money, and that they open at 7:00AM. So I changed my money and made another attempt; still no luck. I needed to go to Karlskrona. So a while later the lady came back: apparently one cannot purchase a ticket to Karlskrona, one must get a tickt to some other station. So finally I got a ticket to this other place. Anyway, I got to Karlskrona, but now the problem was that I could not use change in the phones, only credit cards. The cool thing was that I could use wireless internet throught skype. I bought some skype credits and called through my computer and now I am at Olof's listing to some dire straits.
Sep 18, 2005
So I am now stealing internet from some poor sap in Sweden. Or maybe he planned it that was and is stealing information from me. Either way, its pretty cool.
I was walking around the town(at 4:00AM) looking for hotspots and looking like a nerd/sucker with my computer open. There are soooo many wireless connections and so few of them are open. It's a shame to have such potential for communication and mobile technology and then to lock everyone out because of some chance that a 1337 hacker would come along and hack through your network to do evil.
I think the benefits outweigh the disadvantages, and maybe so does someone in the building above me.
I was walking around the town(at 4:00AM) looking for hotspots and looking like a nerd/sucker with my computer open. There are soooo many wireless connections and so few of them are open. It's a shame to have such potential for communication and mobile technology and then to lock everyone out because of some chance that a 1337 hacker would come along and hack through your network to do evil.
I think the benefits outweigh the disadvantages, and maybe so does someone in the building above me.
I am now on a ferry to Sweden. It's pretty huge. I got a carpool from Dresden and that was quite convenient.
I was thinking about relations on the ride here. Relations as in things which relate other things to each other, not as in your relatives; but that is relatively speaking of course. Any way, what cause it was that the driver(Juergen) was trying to tell me about something, and I'm still not sure what. I asked what the word clapperiet(or something) meant, and he jangled his keys with his finger. The interesting thing was that the possible meaning could be many things but only one of two types: Either he could have been talking about what the keys did, or what the keys are. So to make this clearer: time-based, or space-based understanding.
Time-based understanding could be:
jangling
waving
chiming
noisy
etc...
And space-based understanding could be:
keys
hands
car
air
etc...
In regards to technology, the current methods of indexing have mainly focused on the spatial understanding. Google catelogs webpages, not visits. Mail programs show titles and dates sent, not conversations. When you catalog spatial relations, you end up with a big mess and no impression of how it was created. However, when you catalog temporal relations, you end up with a map of origin.
The food here sucks, I feel like I am eating at the Mensa(the Weimar Cafeteria) again and paying way too much for it.
I was thinking about relations on the ride here. Relations as in things which relate other things to each other, not as in your relatives; but that is relatively speaking of course. Any way, what cause it was that the driver(Juergen) was trying to tell me about something, and I'm still not sure what. I asked what the word clapperiet(or something) meant, and he jangled his keys with his finger. The interesting thing was that the possible meaning could be many things but only one of two types: Either he could have been talking about what the keys did, or what the keys are. So to make this clearer: time-based, or space-based understanding.
Time-based understanding could be:
etc...
And space-based understanding could be:
etc...
In regards to technology, the current methods of indexing have mainly focused on the spatial understanding. Google catelogs webpages, not visits. Mail programs show titles and dates sent, not conversations. When you catalog spatial relations, you end up with a big mess and no impression of how it was created. However, when you catalog temporal relations, you end up with a map of origin.
The food here sucks, I feel like I am eating at the Mensa(the Weimar Cafeteria) again and paying way too much for it.
I was thinking about freedom. Freedom in the sense of being able to do what you want without harming others. The problem with the notion of freedom is that it does not concern itself with what actually happens, it is more concern with legal or written matters. For example, the freedom to vote is one that we all can agree is important, or more broadly, the freedom to participate in political decisions. In every sense of the word, people in Canada are free to participate, in fact the government invests plenty of money to encourage that activity. So the question is, why was the voter turnout for people age 18-28 only 25%? I think the problem is that notion of freedom.
Instead of measuring the number of rights one possesses, it is probably better to measure the number of rights one exercises. I would assert that if the grand majority of people do not exercise any given right, then it's valid or reasoning must be addressed.
In this sense, the notion of freedom puts the emphasis on an individual part of the system rather than on the working body as a whole. Instead of seeing a canadian as a person who does not vote, it is better to look at Canada as a country in which voting is not widely accepted. Freedom is a useless word, it should be replaced with did or did not.
Instead of measuring the number of rights one possesses, it is probably better to measure the number of rights one exercises. I would assert that if the grand majority of people do not exercise any given right, then it's valid or reasoning must be addressed.
In this sense, the notion of freedom puts the emphasis on an individual part of the system rather than on the working body as a whole. Instead of seeing a canadian as a person who does not vote, it is better to look at Canada as a country in which voting is not widely accepted. Freedom is a useless word, it should be replaced with did or did not.
I finally got in contact with the carpool guy and am going to Sweden this afternoon! Olof said that he has an extra bedroom so I will have a place to stay. Right now I am just hangin' with Jan doing some neeeerdy addressbook stuff. I got a new bag, some new socks, and most importantly: a new paper notebook.
Sep 16, 2005
So Prague was nice. Lots of cheap beer and beautiful archicture. I awoke with a massive hangover, a sort of foreshadowing. We had parked our van on an island in the middle of Prague; Jan had know this place because he parked there before. Unfortunately, when we returned after crashing out at Simon's place(pronounced shemon) the Van had been broken into. Following the stunned moment of disgust there was some cursing and then came a feeling of helpless leading finally to my current state of Zen. They stole:
*2 pairs of boxers
*2 pairs of socks
*2 shirts
*1 sleeping bag
*1 book(Mike's book, which I will certainly buy for him)
*1 paper notebook(All of my ideas are goooone)
*1 Camera(I faintly remember Marie saying "don't loose it", this has been replaying in my head for the past while)
*1 Irish Passport
So with no passport how do I leave you ask? Well, good question. If ever you are in this situation, go immediately to the consulate/embassy of your country; we went to the border. We parked the Van at the border and walked up to the borderbox thing(where police sit and play computer games) and asked what to do. I gave in my driver's license, which is not a valid ID. Now they have my ID and I am told that I am to pay a fine for not having a valid ID. Long story short, we change 38 Euro for 1000 Czech Krouns, Jan's parents come from Dresden to the border with my Canadian passport, We cross back into Germany, and I don't have to pay the fine. Now I have to change this money back to Euros.
On a brighter note, I had a wonderful breakfast again with Jan and his Parents, they have been extremely welcoming. They also have a very cool house with the best shower I have ever been in.
I found a carpool to Sweden, and now I have one less bag to carry.
*2 pairs of boxers
*2 pairs of socks
*2 shirts
*1 sleeping bag
*1 book(Mike's book, which I will certainly buy for him)
*1 paper notebook(All of my ideas are goooone)
*1 Camera(I faintly remember Marie saying "don't loose it", this has been replaying in my head for the past while)
*1 Irish Passport
So with no passport how do I leave you ask? Well, good question. If ever you are in this situation, go immediately to the consulate/embassy of your country; we went to the border. We parked the Van at the border and walked up to the borderbox thing(where police sit and play computer games) and asked what to do. I gave in my driver's license, which is not a valid ID. Now they have my ID and I am told that I am to pay a fine for not having a valid ID. Long story short, we change 38 Euro for 1000 Czech Krouns, Jan's parents come from Dresden to the border with my Canadian passport, We cross back into Germany, and I don't have to pay the fine. Now I have to change this money back to Euros.
On a brighter note, I had a wonderful breakfast again with Jan and his Parents, they have been extremely welcoming. They also have a very cool house with the best shower I have ever been in.
I found a carpool to Sweden, and now I have one less bag to carry.
Sep 7, 2005
Back blogging, back in Weimar
I am back in Weimar for a bit and I just bought a pro flickr account check out my pics.
I just gotta get a bike and then I'm off to Prague
I just gotta get a bike and then I'm off to Prague
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