there are some things that I love. some things ive failed to understand. there are some to which i remain indifferent and impartial. there are some i will never know, and some i will never choose to know. there will be the failures i love, the simplistic processes of time and security. there are those who own a small part of me, who can actively control my conciousness.
i wonder, if this is it. if these people, places, events, books, times, will make my life; whether they will be my thesis or my backstory.
im caught up in it. im still fooled by the initiative; that unexpected awareness of change and understanding. i still associate the goodness of my life with the present event.
im logically unsound, my premises are untrue, my argument is weak, my conclusion is a stretch.
but i am valid.
my premises will bring me to my conclusion. i will be there, wherever i say i will be. you will see my result despite the untruth of the premise.
my gravestone will read: of soundness he cared little, by validity he existed.
im in love.
Monday, April 23, 2007
on coldness
I wish I could of willed myself to read further last night, into some obscure novel. Vonnegut's words were potent, and interesting; but the fatigue brought on by the freezing night and the previous early morning conversation put me into a sort of hibernation to last for 9 hours. This sleep was enough to make one question his existence. I didn't register myself, had no conception of my personhood; had forgot that an "I" even existed.
Luckily, my energy carried through. I did exist, and continue to. My senses were aware enough to be disturbed by the pale sun reflecting off of the snow and ice outside. The beams of light refracted into my window where I was suddenly aware of energy and life that had not been there the night before.
It is an amazing thing to see the dead revived.
However, it is still cold. My nose and toes grow numb at the lack of circulation brought on by slow moving atoms. I find it barbaric, and unsettling that the senses, of the persons, of this planet can be subjected to such things as tempature. It would seem a silly reason to die. The reality itself is harsh.
There are sometimes where I feel I've engendered a person who is not me. The choices I've made with this person, this body, are seperate from who I am. But then I realize the fallaciousness of this claim. So I modify my thoughts to go something along the lines of, "sometimes I feel I've engendered a person that I did not want to become." Yet, I realize that I don't believe I'm capable of becoming any other than what I've wanted.
So I choose to no longer think on the subject.
It's still cold. But the sun, and the energy found therein, work dilligently to mitigate the position of this planet. Today it is someone else's turn to be warm. Soon it will be mine, and someone else will be cold. For now I will use my own energy more. I will dress warmer and fuel the air in which I live with artificial heat. I will also realize that energy is no good determiner of personhood; nor is it a worthy pursuit. But it is reality, and without it it is cold; and I hate being cold.
In the end though, I can wait. Because I realize it all comes down to position. It only matters how close to the sun we are. Things will change; my window will be open again and my feet will be bare.
This creature of energy will find his supply, and his direction. Because it is all about position; and I'm ready to move.
Luckily, my energy carried through. I did exist, and continue to. My senses were aware enough to be disturbed by the pale sun reflecting off of the snow and ice outside. The beams of light refracted into my window where I was suddenly aware of energy and life that had not been there the night before.
It is an amazing thing to see the dead revived.
However, it is still cold. My nose and toes grow numb at the lack of circulation brought on by slow moving atoms. I find it barbaric, and unsettling that the senses, of the persons, of this planet can be subjected to such things as tempature. It would seem a silly reason to die. The reality itself is harsh.
There are sometimes where I feel I've engendered a person who is not me. The choices I've made with this person, this body, are seperate from who I am. But then I realize the fallaciousness of this claim. So I modify my thoughts to go something along the lines of, "sometimes I feel I've engendered a person that I did not want to become." Yet, I realize that I don't believe I'm capable of becoming any other than what I've wanted.
So I choose to no longer think on the subject.
It's still cold. But the sun, and the energy found therein, work dilligently to mitigate the position of this planet. Today it is someone else's turn to be warm. Soon it will be mine, and someone else will be cold. For now I will use my own energy more. I will dress warmer and fuel the air in which I live with artificial heat. I will also realize that energy is no good determiner of personhood; nor is it a worthy pursuit. But it is reality, and without it it is cold; and I hate being cold.
In the end though, I can wait. Because I realize it all comes down to position. It only matters how close to the sun we are. Things will change; my window will be open again and my feet will be bare.
This creature of energy will find his supply, and his direction. Because it is all about position; and I'm ready to move.
a stranger in the club
A stranger requested to be my friend today. While looking over her profile I wondered her motives. Whilst doing so I realized, suddenly, the hillarity of assuming the request and acceptance of certain digital messages could induce words like friend. The world just grew a bit more polarized. But sure sweetheart, you can be my friend. This leads me to an essential decision about the action my new friend and I should take:
Let's start a club, you and I. I don't remember your name, and I don't feel like opening a new browser to find you.
We will determine a criterion for the members of our club. I suggest that it be for those who are not themselves.
I want to give full oppurtunity to this maxim, because it has just now struck me as something that is both inspiring and completely ironic. Beyond this, it is useful. If I am not myself I can be anything I want. When I am anything I want, I can avoid being myself.
So let the club begin. The membership is not permanent. Simply because one would assume that if one could not be themselves, they certainly will be themselves at some point. So in case of this, members may come and go as they please.
Second Rule: No girls allowed.
Except for those that are not themselves.
Yes, Yes . . . Our club creation is almost complete.
One last rule: If you are, indeed, not yourself, do not attempt or strive or even try to remedy it. Be your "not-self" fully. Make every single ounce of your personhood fulfill your "not-self." Become it.
And when you're done, new friend, leave. But please leave your "not-self" here. Safely tucked away in a small cubby, in a small coat closet somewhere in the foree of our club. I'll watch over it. Sprinkle it with moth balls if you leave it for too long, occasionally shake the dust off of it.
It would be a shame to find some other "not-self" to be.
Disclaimer: I'm expecting myself to be a literary faunt, to spout words like they were free. But I forget, that faunts have a unique advantage that I do not. They recycle their payload and, for the most part, keep water running through them. They are only constrained by the amount of water that is evaporated. So faunts will continue to run, processing stream, after stream. Slowly the level of water will drop. Leaving a white mark on the side of the pool; a spectral image of the deposits that are invisible, tasteless and without mass while you drink, but able to be wiped away after the sun has dispatched water particles.
I'm not a fan of faunts.
My longevity is taxed by an ever increasing need. The world calls out in some sort of pseudo-crisis, begging for attention and care and cultivation; begging to be meticulously tended, as if a flower were to spring up after so many weeks. I call the crisis pseudo because I don't believe I carry much clout. Not to say I couldn't make this world better, rather that I believe both the world and I know that I wont.
Let's start a club, you and I. I don't remember your name, and I don't feel like opening a new browser to find you.
We will determine a criterion for the members of our club. I suggest that it be for those who are not themselves.
I want to give full oppurtunity to this maxim, because it has just now struck me as something that is both inspiring and completely ironic. Beyond this, it is useful. If I am not myself I can be anything I want. When I am anything I want, I can avoid being myself.
So let the club begin. The membership is not permanent. Simply because one would assume that if one could not be themselves, they certainly will be themselves at some point. So in case of this, members may come and go as they please.
Second Rule: No girls allowed.
Except for those that are not themselves.
Yes, Yes . . . Our club creation is almost complete.
One last rule: If you are, indeed, not yourself, do not attempt or strive or even try to remedy it. Be your "not-self" fully. Make every single ounce of your personhood fulfill your "not-self." Become it.
And when you're done, new friend, leave. But please leave your "not-self" here. Safely tucked away in a small cubby, in a small coat closet somewhere in the foree of our club. I'll watch over it. Sprinkle it with moth balls if you leave it for too long, occasionally shake the dust off of it.
It would be a shame to find some other "not-self" to be.
Disclaimer: I'm expecting myself to be a literary faunt, to spout words like they were free. But I forget, that faunts have a unique advantage that I do not. They recycle their payload and, for the most part, keep water running through them. They are only constrained by the amount of water that is evaporated. So faunts will continue to run, processing stream, after stream. Slowly the level of water will drop. Leaving a white mark on the side of the pool; a spectral image of the deposits that are invisible, tasteless and without mass while you drink, but able to be wiped away after the sun has dispatched water particles.
I'm not a fan of faunts.
My longevity is taxed by an ever increasing need. The world calls out in some sort of pseudo-crisis, begging for attention and care and cultivation; begging to be meticulously tended, as if a flower were to spring up after so many weeks. I call the crisis pseudo because I don't believe I carry much clout. Not to say I couldn't make this world better, rather that I believe both the world and I know that I wont.
oh, you masters of war
"One lunatic armed with a rusty axe can create a respectable amount of terror in any decent community. But for real lunacy on the grand scale you need a committee (better yet, an institution). . ."
Edward Abbey
the safest i ever feel is in my private life. away from the bloody politics, agendas, and takeovers that now characterize the world stage. with them, i do not feel safe. it is because of the inequity that is characteristic among all warmongers; the initial compromise of the individual actor acting for much more than him or herself. this inequity is synonomous with tyranny. it uses the will of one to perpetuate the result upon the many . . . and shockingly enough, modern government has never found a way past it; save our disparaging system of democracy.
so we stand back, casting a vote (never for a war, nor for a military action) and we, for the most part, allow the actors of another world to represent us and our desires. this is but a syptom of the problem. the entire world relies on the protection and representation of a select few, most countries choose election as the process by which they attain these representatives. then they sit, and they watch, and they die.
killing in the name of . . .
don't get me wrong, ideological arguments exist for the sake of war. but ive yet to encounter one that exists for the sake of elective government. every argument falls into the practical side. we do this for organizational and demonstrative purposes. we form our government as a result of our own formed ideology. relying on no source but the one we've created. and we have chosen to direct our technological and overall societal progression into the function of producing more and more weapons to be used in warfare. it would seem that a notion as barbaric as war could of been thought past long ago. but it remains unending, violence is the new flag of this, and every government that has yet to exist.
many would argue that war is the neccesary crime of government, some of us would argue that no crime can be neccesary while existing already as a criminal. democratic notions do not give us the best individual, rather it hopes to provide the right choice from among the candidates provided. yet, the candidates provided, mostly, choose politics and goverment as an aspiration and career choice. we've had no philosopher king show up to the races. rather we have characters who, while able to be cognitive most of the time, lack greatness and the characteristics neccesary for alternative notions.
furthermore, we isolate ourselves into dominant parties who's ideas we freely accept as the only ones availble. the bicameral system is a nail in the coffin of free thought and transparency.
the very best government, the most free of nations, lacks the ability for reformation and change, it's masters serve themselves and it's body can hardly even make it to the polls.
therefore, i argue for intellectual restraint for this nation of all nations. if you have a good idea, hold it back from the general public. they don't really desire it, and they certainly wouldn't appreciate it.
take your cue as a the rugged urban individualist who actively cultivates her mind and openly negates the nonsense built upon the glorious (if not inept) tradition of freedom.
we are more, my friends. and we are certainly not pawns of any sort. we exist only for ourselves. so ride it out. steal the benefits from the state, contribute on your physical level, but save your mind for a more worthy cause. this has never been your fight, and it cannot be won.
Edward Abbey
the safest i ever feel is in my private life. away from the bloody politics, agendas, and takeovers that now characterize the world stage. with them, i do not feel safe. it is because of the inequity that is characteristic among all warmongers; the initial compromise of the individual actor acting for much more than him or herself. this inequity is synonomous with tyranny. it uses the will of one to perpetuate the result upon the many . . . and shockingly enough, modern government has never found a way past it; save our disparaging system of democracy.
so we stand back, casting a vote (never for a war, nor for a military action) and we, for the most part, allow the actors of another world to represent us and our desires. this is but a syptom of the problem. the entire world relies on the protection and representation of a select few, most countries choose election as the process by which they attain these representatives. then they sit, and they watch, and they die.
killing in the name of . . .
don't get me wrong, ideological arguments exist for the sake of war. but ive yet to encounter one that exists for the sake of elective government. every argument falls into the practical side. we do this for organizational and demonstrative purposes. we form our government as a result of our own formed ideology. relying on no source but the one we've created. and we have chosen to direct our technological and overall societal progression into the function of producing more and more weapons to be used in warfare. it would seem that a notion as barbaric as war could of been thought past long ago. but it remains unending, violence is the new flag of this, and every government that has yet to exist.
many would argue that war is the neccesary crime of government, some of us would argue that no crime can be neccesary while existing already as a criminal. democratic notions do not give us the best individual, rather it hopes to provide the right choice from among the candidates provided. yet, the candidates provided, mostly, choose politics and goverment as an aspiration and career choice. we've had no philosopher king show up to the races. rather we have characters who, while able to be cognitive most of the time, lack greatness and the characteristics neccesary for alternative notions.
furthermore, we isolate ourselves into dominant parties who's ideas we freely accept as the only ones availble. the bicameral system is a nail in the coffin of free thought and transparency.
the very best government, the most free of nations, lacks the ability for reformation and change, it's masters serve themselves and it's body can hardly even make it to the polls.
therefore, i argue for intellectual restraint for this nation of all nations. if you have a good idea, hold it back from the general public. they don't really desire it, and they certainly wouldn't appreciate it.
take your cue as a the rugged urban individualist who actively cultivates her mind and openly negates the nonsense built upon the glorious (if not inept) tradition of freedom.
we are more, my friends. and we are certainly not pawns of any sort. we exist only for ourselves. so ride it out. steal the benefits from the state, contribute on your physical level, but save your mind for a more worthy cause. this has never been your fight, and it cannot be won.
congealed obscenity
my dearest of friends, the myspace goers. id like to welcome you to the scene where the main character dies in the end.
my space friend
or maybe just a space friend, without the my.
without the "i"
im not quite sure. though i am quite obtuse.
because you can't spell friend without F or R or I or E or N or D.
unless of course you realize words are nothing but the meaning they provide, so you could spell friend in a different language.
A or M or I or G or O
or perhaps you could attribute another word to take the meaning for friend.
how about the (compound) word "fuckhole"
thanks to all my "fuckhole's" for being there, by my side, through thick and thin. you are my best "fuckhole's" etc.
a "fuckhole" in need is a "fuckhole" indeed.
what a stupid maxim. the word indeed references either action, or as common use would state, a reiteration of the term. thus the maxim would say a friend, while having a need of some sort, is a reiteration of a friend.
ive tried dating girls in need. that definetely doesnt work . . . better to stick to "fuckholes".
strange isn't it, how a word can exist twice, occupy the same space but be two seperate things. you all understand the use of the word fuckhole, and how it represents friend. but the word still means fuckhole to you.
imagine if we could merge like that. move from the representation of our personhood to the representation of something else, simutaneously.
i am ben, the person . . . and the lamp. from now on the word lamp is replaced with the word ben, but not just the word . . . the personhood.
damn, i dont think that will work. people probably wouldnt feel comfortable doing to a lamp what they do to me. especially derek.
how about it, transferable personhood. based upon representation. lets merge it all into one little ion of recognition and spread it everywhere.
Id become a bible and defile myself, right in front of some "gay-hating" republican, christian, sheep humping, cowboy. He'd be reading in Psalms how its ok to beat your wife, and id will myself to have an exact replica of a black man giving it to his daughter in the ass . . . in red ink, in church . . . while he had a pen is his hand.
id transfer for a while. become unimportant, an object for use (well, at least something more used that I am currently). Id be a hammer, or a stuffed animal, or a slice of orange.
id resist personhood and bask in the glory of my temporal non-importance.
its hard to feel when you dont have a self.
my space friend
or maybe just a space friend, without the my.
without the "i"
im not quite sure. though i am quite obtuse.
because you can't spell friend without F or R or I or E or N or D.
unless of course you realize words are nothing but the meaning they provide, so you could spell friend in a different language.
A or M or I or G or O
or perhaps you could attribute another word to take the meaning for friend.
how about the (compound) word "fuckhole"
thanks to all my "fuckhole's" for being there, by my side, through thick and thin. you are my best "fuckhole's" etc.
a "fuckhole" in need is a "fuckhole" indeed.
what a stupid maxim. the word indeed references either action, or as common use would state, a reiteration of the term. thus the maxim would say a friend, while having a need of some sort, is a reiteration of a friend.
ive tried dating girls in need. that definetely doesnt work . . . better to stick to "fuckholes".
strange isn't it, how a word can exist twice, occupy the same space but be two seperate things. you all understand the use of the word fuckhole, and how it represents friend. but the word still means fuckhole to you.
imagine if we could merge like that. move from the representation of our personhood to the representation of something else, simutaneously.
i am ben, the person . . . and the lamp. from now on the word lamp is replaced with the word ben, but not just the word . . . the personhood.
damn, i dont think that will work. people probably wouldnt feel comfortable doing to a lamp what they do to me. especially derek.
how about it, transferable personhood. based upon representation. lets merge it all into one little ion of recognition and spread it everywhere.
Id become a bible and defile myself, right in front of some "gay-hating" republican, christian, sheep humping, cowboy. He'd be reading in Psalms how its ok to beat your wife, and id will myself to have an exact replica of a black man giving it to his daughter in the ass . . . in red ink, in church . . . while he had a pen is his hand.
id transfer for a while. become unimportant, an object for use (well, at least something more used that I am currently). Id be a hammer, or a stuffed animal, or a slice of orange.
id resist personhood and bask in the glory of my temporal non-importance.
its hard to feel when you dont have a self.
metaphysical cornflakes, now existing in a store near you
i feel idolatrous right now. i keep praising idols that have no meaning. i keep giving them my attention, yet they never, ever, fulfill.
i think i understand why.
some people believe in god. some believe in the republican party. they're usually the same people.
some people believe in themselves, others in their lovers, others in their children.
some people find meaning in abstractism, some find it in money, some in apathy.
some simply do not find meaning, but muster a resilience that reveals meaningful existence.
the existentialists achieve salvation through revelation, the nihilists find it through disassociation; the pragmatists through relevance.
sometimes i find it, but i lose it quickly. it gets lost in sentimental bullshit and good cheer.
sometimes i drink it, sometimes i kiss it. but not usually, and never for long.
up for a progressive stretch? good, so am i.
suppose that the majority of us define reality as a search for meaning. not the best route to go, but surely a popular one. if this is true then some serious implications need to be realized.
this is where part two comes in:
Plato suggested that it is impossible for us to make choices contrary to our will. in every situation, given the circumstance of physical autonomy, we willed exactly what we have decided to will. as a result, it is impossible to fore go the excuse of wrongness from our actions. this is not to say that mistakes cannot be made, they certainly can. however it is wrong to suggest that the "take" part of mistake did not occur.
given this, let us look to the idea of meaningfulness in subjective reality. our actions within this realm are our will. whatever our desires may be in our search for meaningfulness we will the actions we take.
to deem this search worthy then, we must exploit our own vulnerability. my existence is the process of my desires. my desires are the measure of my will, and my actions fall somewhere on the shady plane of good results.
to the point then: ive reached a barrier my friends (and as with every good conflict i feel the need to post it pointlessly onto a public forum) to what extent am i remaining authentic when i pursue a major goal and withhold my own desires? let me give an example: i felt strongly for someone, realized certain circumstances existed that would not work for me, but went after her anyway. after the 3rd or 4th failure i find myself demanding an explanation from a backlit screen with a keyboard far too plastic to give my words any real meaning.
to what extent should any individual ever withhold their iniate desire? im not talking about simple conflicts like holding off on the candy before dinner; im wondering what level of personal negligence is appropriate when dealing with a greater goal. to push farther i would wonder what exactly the lengths we are withholding from ourselves in order to find meaning in this existence.
you know who you are.
you philistines of the new century.
how much will you destroy within yourselves to find that greater purpose?
why is it that good things are hard to work for?
why is it that i should care about any others desires when i cannot meet my own?
truthfully, what length does moderation and ethical constraint hold when one considers the elements of luck and circumstance and the general variation between one person and the next.
tie me up harder reality, push me back into the spot of canned, delicious, "ben goodness" and make me an inauthentic process of society, love, lust, religion, and culture.
fuck it, im neither rebel nor citizen. im a captive with an understanding of captivity; the very worst kind.
i think i understand why.
some people believe in god. some believe in the republican party. they're usually the same people.
some people believe in themselves, others in their lovers, others in their children.
some people find meaning in abstractism, some find it in money, some in apathy.
some simply do not find meaning, but muster a resilience that reveals meaningful existence.
the existentialists achieve salvation through revelation, the nihilists find it through disassociation; the pragmatists through relevance.
sometimes i find it, but i lose it quickly. it gets lost in sentimental bullshit and good cheer.
sometimes i drink it, sometimes i kiss it. but not usually, and never for long.
up for a progressive stretch? good, so am i.
suppose that the majority of us define reality as a search for meaning. not the best route to go, but surely a popular one. if this is true then some serious implications need to be realized.
this is where part two comes in:
Plato suggested that it is impossible for us to make choices contrary to our will. in every situation, given the circumstance of physical autonomy, we willed exactly what we have decided to will. as a result, it is impossible to fore go the excuse of wrongness from our actions. this is not to say that mistakes cannot be made, they certainly can. however it is wrong to suggest that the "take" part of mistake did not occur.
given this, let us look to the idea of meaningfulness in subjective reality. our actions within this realm are our will. whatever our desires may be in our search for meaningfulness we will the actions we take.
to deem this search worthy then, we must exploit our own vulnerability. my existence is the process of my desires. my desires are the measure of my will, and my actions fall somewhere on the shady plane of good results.
to the point then: ive reached a barrier my friends (and as with every good conflict i feel the need to post it pointlessly onto a public forum) to what extent am i remaining authentic when i pursue a major goal and withhold my own desires? let me give an example: i felt strongly for someone, realized certain circumstances existed that would not work for me, but went after her anyway. after the 3rd or 4th failure i find myself demanding an explanation from a backlit screen with a keyboard far too plastic to give my words any real meaning.
to what extent should any individual ever withhold their iniate desire? im not talking about simple conflicts like holding off on the candy before dinner; im wondering what level of personal negligence is appropriate when dealing with a greater goal. to push farther i would wonder what exactly the lengths we are withholding from ourselves in order to find meaning in this existence.
you know who you are.
you philistines of the new century.
how much will you destroy within yourselves to find that greater purpose?
why is it that good things are hard to work for?
why is it that i should care about any others desires when i cannot meet my own?
truthfully, what length does moderation and ethical constraint hold when one considers the elements of luck and circumstance and the general variation between one person and the next.
tie me up harder reality, push me back into the spot of canned, delicious, "ben goodness" and make me an inauthentic process of society, love, lust, religion, and culture.
fuck it, im neither rebel nor citizen. im a captive with an understanding of captivity; the very worst kind.
sound the retreat
forcefully complex, though uninvited and unwanted. to measure what there can be, what there isn't, in a personal way. to own your feelings, or be owned by them.
Kant set forward a categorical imperative. he gave us a modus operandi by which to act, speak, and live. Kant was smarter than jesus, at least his version made sense.
people wonder why it is that i can say what i say, my parents ask me what i will do when the world ends, I ask them what more could be done.
a friend says, "the world burns around you, one of god's "meteors of justice" flies towards you. Do you make ammends?"
Ben says: how big is the meteor?
i'll borrow from maynard.
what if halos could choke? if one slipped from it's glorious position and slid down the neck, got caught on a branch? i think i know how it would feel to die by the cold metal of a halo. almost like waking up.
the alcohol couldn't run it's course last night. the world couldn't spin fast enough. people ask about something that was important two days ago. i tell them its no longer important.
i guess it is time to guage the effect. take count of every faculty. see where im left standing, and what there is to stand upon.
Kant set forward a categorical imperative. he gave us a modus operandi by which to act, speak, and live. Kant was smarter than jesus, at least his version made sense.
people wonder why it is that i can say what i say, my parents ask me what i will do when the world ends, I ask them what more could be done.
a friend says, "the world burns around you, one of god's "meteors of justice" flies towards you. Do you make ammends?"
Ben says: how big is the meteor?
i'll borrow from maynard.
what if halos could choke? if one slipped from it's glorious position and slid down the neck, got caught on a branch? i think i know how it would feel to die by the cold metal of a halo. almost like waking up.
the alcohol couldn't run it's course last night. the world couldn't spin fast enough. people ask about something that was important two days ago. i tell them its no longer important.
i guess it is time to guage the effect. take count of every faculty. see where im left standing, and what there is to stand upon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
