||[19 Apr 2006|11:46pm]
How many years has it been since you looked into your own eyes? Do you
see the shades that hang beneath those eyes? Did you know that the dead
and dying can hear your speak in the shades of the past. Do you ever
wonder why nothing acts like it should, and the time between what is
now, and what is later, isn't as quantifiable as you might think?
Everyday we conduct the tests that reassure ourselves of how our
lives are real, and that the people that enter them and exit them are
real. You sit on the bus, and sometimes you just want to reach out, and
touch that face, touch those hands. You drive past the same windows,
and you look into them seeing life unfold. But past the windows, that
world disappears to the never more. Was it just your imagination that
saw the old man looking for a card, that young woman talking inanely on
her cell phone? Do you ever get the urge to run head long into a brick
wall to make sure it is still real, that your legs still move, and that
its not simply a delusion set forth by the mind to ward you from places
Could you mind simply lock up that darkness, those pitfalls that
you could find yourself breeding in, because it cannot see what is on
the other end? How do you really feel when your heart cannot find its
own place, when it crawls into the mind to escape the tingling pain of
irreverance and ignomity. We set about trying to define what is real to
us, and try to take a part of us and place it before the light. Trying
to sear it, seal it, but it burns in our hands, in our eyes, and we
call it truth because nothing is left of it. When everything else has
been eroded away by the contact, the conciousness, that prevades this
quiet imagry, what will there be left?
How can we know in any given point which way we are headed when
every head never turns our way. We enter buildings as ghosts, and we
leave them as such the same. Everyday we see millions of people moving
around, but how faint is their connection to our lives, to our candles,
to our flames. Do we have to constantly pinch them to make sure they
truly are real, keep fighting them into little boxes because we do not
understand them? Keep finding this the way that it is meant, as the
deluded escapades that touch upon nothing in itself.
Wipe it away because the thoughts are always going to be ok,
they're going to be left at your doorstep, they're going to be open to
your perusal, and you can tend them however you wish. Stretch yourself
to the other end of the earth, and you will find nothing holds you back
from floating off into space. As much as we bring the reality to bare,
as much as we keep making sure its still there, we're forced to change
it to ourselves, to our kind, whatever kind that is.
We cannot allow gay marriage because then we lose the final facade
on this great american way. It's where everything can be incorperated,
and all people can combine to form greater forces, in the hopes that
they can better affect change. Theres nothing stoping any couple, any
number of people, from simply incorperating their families. Nothing
stops it, except the laws that have been specificly crafted for the
marriage instead of for the corperation. But every day even that thin
veil is being removed piece by piece, till we find ourselves in this
conglamerate mess. If we legalize gay marriage, then we lose the last
true sanctity, and that is of the mass is better than the individual.
We no longer can claim that america stands for individual ideals,
individual laws, rules.
We suddenly have a new class of people, and now anyone can be apart of
that class. Those unwilling to marry, unwilling to grasp either side,
will be forced out. Those that do not need to keep checking reality to
make sure its there will be put into the caves, cornered into the back,
and stared at till their abject failures are accepted, and they have no
choice but to make themselves known as individuals, by strapping bombs
to their chests.
This is what america truly does want, but they have to put up the
fight anyhow, they need to widdle away any truth to the marriage, to
the ideal that two people will work better for the community than one
alone. They need to burn off everything in an effort to put a pretty
face on a corrupted concept. Take a look at our corperations, and you
will see that they rarely benefit the whole of our subsistence. They're
cornered beasts and act like whatever you do, is going to feed them
regardless. They've found their niche, and they'll be damned if someone
else takes it.
You know it's a long road to the shadow of your hearts content.
It's a long road till we start seeing that these words are made with
the pure power of will, and the perception of that which makes us
stronger, makes us unique, makes us whole. Tell me what your problem
is, tell me what you tried to do to solve it, and tell me of how it
failed, or how it succeeded. Tell me that you know that while we're
adrift in the incoherent daze, that you know it can never be that way
till the end. Till we've climbed the last surmise, harnessed the last
bit of energy, and brought it to the greater part of the whole. In the
mean time, we're still stuck in fixing what has broken in the culture,
what conciousness has brought to the baggage that we keep saying we're
going to fix. That we keep exclaiming is only and illusion, while every
day we don't see the rain that grows the plants. We see the destruction
of the earth changing, and we claim we can catch up.
Perhaps you can realize that in our efforts to fix all that has
gone wrong, we're just as likely to create more problems than there was
before. In our haste, we burn more gas to get to a destination that is
just some flagrant ideology that has no substance. Be wary of the man
who claims to know the steps it takes to get to god, to float among the
universe, and to act good and true in every circumstance, in everyway.
No one has found that, if jesus had, if mohammed had, if buddha had, We
would have recognized it for what it is.
Why can we not see this obviousness, this complete truth, and still
the world keeps suffering, it keeps limping along, and we throw regard
for reasons and actuary to other people. We lay ourselves on the
ground, but we cannot try to get up to help where we can? I understand
all this to well, and I know the road that its leading to, but no one
can really show it to you. You have to keep following something to find
where it hides, and instead of following it, you run away.
Theres no martyrs left, we'e killed them all, and we are living in
a world where nothing is worth dying for. This is the substance of the
truth, and it's frightening in how little it actually gives us. Thats
the painful truth of what leads into the deep, into the unknown. Do you
realize that as much as it pains me to say that theres no defining
characteristic to reality, it needs to be said because of its truth?
The veracity that any of this has only comes from when you are living
outside of this reading, when it sinks into your everystep, and your
analysis takes upon an object that you crave understanding over.
While you're out defining the whole of existence, I'm left wondering
why you've decided to forget about your own existence. Why everyday you
have to prove you exist, by interupting people, introducing yourself,
putting yourself into verification, constant verification that people
acknowledge you, that you are real to them, that they're not figments.
You understand, because you've followed this long enough to know that
those extroverts, they're the ones who need the most help in this
world, because they lack a center that affirms their existence. They
constantly need the validation from everything that crosses their path,
and alone they struggle with an identity that is not themselves. It is
an amalgamation of everyone they know, everyone who has entered and
changed their lives.
These are all memories, vague, unformed, unmolded, and molested by the
person. The true war being waged around the globe is on how to shut up
those of us that do not wish to acknowledge their validity. Those of us
that do not need to remind others that they exist, that you exist. We
don't need the constancy, because we already feel the constancy,
whether we found it, or whether it has been inborn matters not. The
affect is certainly the same. We're pelted with being alone, and as if
thats something abnormal or wrong. Constantly it's wrong to be left in
silence, constantly it's wrong to not grab the girl and fuck her brains
out. To piss on her and claim her as your own, constantly the girls get
mad if you do not do this. If you do not shit on them, push them
around, or bend to their will as if thats the only will in this nature.
Constantly, the hatred seethes, and we're pushed further back,
further into obscurity, by people whose voices do not extend for others
to hear. We're constantly bombarded by people on cell phones that have
no better way to remind people that they exist, and to be validated by
others, all in the same fucktastic stroke. It's amazing what that
psychologically compells me to do, which is to mentally piss on their
graves, and hope they go away. I don't need reminding that they're
there, I don't need reminding that the only way to get someones
attention is to grab them by the wrist, and force them to hold me in
some higher place, the constancy of acknowledging that I am a human,
and I need my validation.
All this, and more, is regardless of the point, because it is
simply an anger at the breeding of more of these sowers of pain and
destruction. All these tools simply can be wielded for good, but none
of them seem to be finding that place in reality. Do you really need to
tell someone you're on a bus? I don't know, but certain, I know i'm on
a bus, and why should anyone care what bus you're riding, or what shoes
you're just bought. So many tripe statements, i'm left aghast to wonder
about how much they truly know. Should I be them, make it known that I
No. I shouldn't, as they care so much about their validation, I
won't proceed to give it to them. Not because i'm cruel or heartless,
but because I know they exist. Thats the whole point of this, I don't
need to keep testing and retesting the waters to make sure everything
is alright, everything is alright if you'd just shut the fuck up for a
moment and listen to that silence. You can call him jesus, you can call
him mohammed, you can call him courtney love, I don't really care what
you call him. All I do really care about is that you realize that you
exist, that you are apart of this conglomeration, and that you let it
You truly are a beautiful creature if you'd stop having to look
into the mirror to make sure it's true. The constancy you desire
matters not, because that mirror you keep fucking with is tarnishing at
every touch. The photo luminescence is destroying things whether you
want to believe it or not. Take no pictures because those too will
disolve the world around you, your voice will too create the
dissonance. Everything that absolves you of sin is that sin itself. We
have to be in this world, but we don't have to be the world. We don't
need to find that greater conciousness, because all that means is the
constant feedback of a mirror thats getting darker, and the more
tainted it becomes the uglier you look, and the more god damn attention
you want, making the cycle endlessly destructive.
You see this by now, simply because most people wouldn't read past
the first paragraph, most people would fire of some die hippy communist
manifesto as if they've just found the single greatest thing to hate,
and probably will go off and call their friends about the stupidity.
Irony at it's greatest is rarely glimpsed by man, it's more mysterious
than lochness monster, grey aliens and the yeti combined. I think if
one were able to see this irony, that would shatter into a million
fragments, perhaps that explains spontaneous combustion.
In the end, the validation comes from within. As we keep trying to
sow our seeds into the greater part of the world, to have more people
look up to us, we end up destroying that reflection, we means we need
to keep moving faster. We need to keep changing more, we need to foil
that great fear that the world is a delusion. All the while that we
bring it closer to that edge, closer to the end, and one last scream
shatters the glass that reverberates with the chaos that ensues.
Ensnared by the self validation, ensnared by deep resolving form
that we are alone. Endlessly, we are along. Say it with me, we are
alone. We cannot pick and choose how alone we are, and if we could some
how all admit that we are alone, then we could simultaneously be a part
of the whole. This is how it works, this is the only way it works. You
follow yourself, into yourself, and you make it out whole. You validate
yourself the good ole fashion way, by using the tools that surround
you, not the flesh, not the blood, but the bones. As long as you never
get past skin deep, you'll never know that you are beautiful. You will
never know the sensations of love, and you can hardly be said to be
anything but a tool.
This is why we have to consider gay marriage far more carefully than
anything else in this world. We allow this merger, we're fast tracking
the commodity of society. That people are some how better together,
bound by the wrists, than they are seperated. It's a devolving
conudrum, and should be considered beyond any moralistic stupidity, a
philosphy of trying to find the closest aproximation to a higher ideal.
These ideals are incomplete, the ideology is not ever complete, and
thus we have to be pragmatic to them. We cannot simply be agnostic.
There is a greater coherence out there, but simply saying that isn't
true leaves you in endless cycles of validation that has no end, no
beginning, and all thats left in that is emptiness, lost spaces, lost
cultures, lost minds, and a psychosis of the man with the button.
You are validated.