I've completely gotten out of the mindset that I should actually write something for my blog.
Most of my posts have been concerned with the fact that I haven't.But should I?
I'm sure everyone would agree that getting started is the hardest part of a project. This is why I'm writing every immediately relevant thought that I have. Not quite a stream-of-consciousness narrative, but jesus, I need some sort of creative drip.
I've been fueled the last several months by little more than stress and adrenaline, so when I'm overwhelmed or if I've run out of those particular propellants, well, with gas comes exhaust, and I guess this is in a way part of my carbon footprint.
Why leave a single trace, though?
Fuck, how about living off of the grid?
What is this thing except for some cathartic mouth-flapping? So much out here is the same static sent from every surrounding angle, media is dying but intensifying, increasing in content, decreasing in value, only worth its weight in its number of hits on youtube. Prepubescent girls are deciding: the good music is represented by lipstick, lumps, bananas, and umbarellas. Every ounce of me is rebelling against this whole fucking scene, and my brain wants to vomit.
Purge, it's screaming, I don't need distractions anymore, I need frost-bitten-bone-cold reality, wring out the old shit, my own philosophies are failing, and I'm flailing in this continually continually perpetuating infinite world of simple ways to keep us from despair, entertain me no more fucking TEACH me something worthwhile.
But where is the FILTER?
The sieve only catches diversions now? What happened to progress?
Just get through the day just get through the week just get through the year we'll have something to numb our minds we'll get there eventually. Have faith.
Is this leading to the death of free-inquiry? This insistence that divine intervention will drive us, will push us down the path, we just have to grease the wheels?--the lazy path to salvation, no need to want to learn, we have the same rules, no maturation, no evolution, just led to the cutting floor with promises of fresh grass. Why do the calves need lies to survive? Why don't we look the butcher in the eye and accept that there is no better place than to simply live in this body of veal? We need our hobbies and the occasionally constant reminders that we must be good or burn in hell, burn in hell, burn in hell, you have no other reason to live.
So much of our society has lost its nerve, its motivation, its muse, its willingness to push itself; they'd be lost without "the good to come", being so used to preparing themselves and others for the future, squandering their opportunities to really do something meaningful now, to impact LIVES, as if there'd ever be anything more good or important than that.
My point is, of course everyone has an impact, but has it all become superficial? seen heard or read, barely digested then forgotten, so many webs crossing, your influence impermanent and inconsequential, is the mass scale of all others' weight too immense for any of us to really deal with? Doesn't this mean that we are making our own choices, but with all the wrong information?
(If there is hope for the repression of this human dementia, a billion angry degenerates and heretics won't be enough to lift the fog of denial and clear the room of indolent arrogant rational-ignorants; it requires a cataclysm. Without it, we can't evolve. No longer beguiled by myspace, Rihanna, no evil hamster, no more Oprah, no more distractions. Back to business: survival and progress. Then, of course, it will come down to a simple battle between reason and fear.
One or the other: God or humanity. Destroy it or be destroyed by it.)
Refusing to speak out of ideology is idiocy, it's self-defeating; what is a philosophy without debate? But then, what is a pronouncement in the face of the great black hole of everyone?
To be human is to try to make that imprint anyway.
Why leave a single trace, though?
Fuck, how about living off of the grid?
What is this thing except for some cathartic mouth-flapping? So much out here is the same static sent from every surrounding angle, media is dying but intensifying, increasing in content, decreasing in value, only worth its weight in its number of hits on youtube. Prepubescent girls are deciding: the good music is represented by lipstick, lumps, bananas, and umbarellas. Every ounce of me is rebelling against this whole fucking scene, and my brain wants to vomit.
Purge, it's screaming, I don't need distractions anymore, I need frost-bitten-bone-cold reality, wring out the old shit, my own philosophies are failing, and I'm flailing in this continually continually perpetuating infinite world of simple ways to keep us from despair, entertain me no more fucking TEACH me something worthwhile.
But where is the FILTER?
The sieve only catches diversions now? What happened to progress?
Just get through the day just get through the week just get through the year we'll have something to numb our minds we'll get there eventually. Have faith.
Is this leading to the death of free-inquiry? This insistence that divine intervention will drive us, will push us down the path, we just have to grease the wheels?--the lazy path to salvation, no need to want to learn, we have the same rules, no maturation, no evolution, just led to the cutting floor with promises of fresh grass. Why do the calves need lies to survive? Why don't we look the butcher in the eye and accept that there is no better place than to simply live in this body of veal? We need our hobbies and the occasionally constant reminders that we must be good or burn in hell, burn in hell, burn in hell, you have no other reason to live.
So much of our society has lost its nerve, its motivation, its muse, its willingness to push itself; they'd be lost without "the good to come", being so used to preparing themselves and others for the future, squandering their opportunities to really do something meaningful now, to impact LIVES, as if there'd ever be anything more good or important than that.
My point is, of course everyone has an impact, but has it all become superficial? seen heard or read, barely digested then forgotten, so many webs crossing, your influence impermanent and inconsequential, is the mass scale of all others' weight too immense for any of us to really deal with? Doesn't this mean that we are making our own choices, but with all the wrong information?
(If there is hope for the repression of this human dementia, a billion angry degenerates and heretics won't be enough to lift the fog of denial and clear the room of indolent arrogant rational-ignorants; it requires a cataclysm. Without it, we can't evolve. No longer beguiled by myspace, Rihanna, no evil hamster, no more Oprah, no more distractions. Back to business: survival and progress. Then, of course, it will come down to a simple battle between reason and fear.
One or the other: God or humanity. Destroy it or be destroyed by it.)
Refusing to speak out of ideology is idiocy, it's self-defeating; what is a philosophy without debate? But then, what is a pronouncement in the face of the great black hole of everyone?
To be human is to try to make that imprint anyway.
