Big Words and Confessions

The Tree and Me

2009-09-06T18:10:00.001-07:00

So I had managed to pull myself away from World of Warcraft in preparation for this heinous little bastard of an LRW (Legal Research and Writing) assignment. I had cleared my desk, pulled out my highlighter, etc. etc. when I hear this epic crash. And guess what, I didn't even look out my window . . . So I go out to smoke a cigarette some time later and notice a massive tree laying across the road and on my neighbors car. That was kind of interesting. I walked toward the massive tree and was genuinely confused as to how said tree snapped at it's base and fell over. Today we've had a bit of a storm, nothing major and certainly nothing like the kind of torrents I've seen in Utah this time of year. But this tree just had it and decided to fuck up some young track runners day by destroying the back area of her car. So the neighbors kind of came out, and looked around and registered the fact that the forces of nature had fucked up their street. I take some pictures (on facebook) and wander around for a while looking like a slob . . . because I really like World of Warcraft and beer right now. Then I go back inside and have a realization - if it hadn't been for the recent burglary I'd experienced that tree would have fucked up my car.

The causal link works like this - I used to park my car on the street because the spaced allotted near the house is kind of narrow and daunting to pull into. So, if I hadn't had my laptop stolen I would have, most likely parked right under that damn tree, but because of the bastard that took my laptop I have made sure to park near my house. So, a theft probably saved my car.

But I'm not quite sure if that's such a good thing. If this "act of god" had taken out my car (which it probably would have) then I could have gotten a new car for $500. That would be cool. If American Express hadn't replaced my laptop I would have been out $1000 plus the $190 it cost me to replace the window that was broken. Pair this with the facts that I rarely use my car and I don't actually need it, but can't sell it because I owe more than it's worth and you can see that there really wasn't any good to come out of my laptop being stolen. If my car had been destroyed I could have said cool things to my classmates like, "yeah my car was destroyed this weekend . . . by a tree." and then there would have been a chance of litigation against the neighbors who grew such an unsavory tree which would have probably ended up in me settling with their homeowners insurance. I could have made a substantial amount of money from this deal. But instead, I lost a laptop and had to pay $190 of my own money to replace a window.

That is bullshit. Why don't big trees ever land on my car :'(??

The mechanisms set up for the sake of "public policy" are quite astounding when you have a chance to reflect upon the odd enigmas that are created as a result thereof. We, as a society, live in such a way to rectify accidents of all sorts. If you are accidentally killed by anything but you're own negligence rest assured your "estate" has got your back. That's kind of cool, but also daunting to think of. I'm not sold on the multi-million dollar verdict in favor of the woman that spilled hot Mcdonalds coffee on herself, nor am I convinced that the rows of tax-law books ought to span from here to forever. What I am sure of is that we exist in a world wherein our administration is coexistent with administrators economic benefit. It pays to be able to define the laws for a society, so we get very, very good at defining such laws. What's even more harrowing is that notion that if I ever hope to change such dire dichotomies then I better get pretty damn good at playing the same game.

On Friday I turned in my application for placement on the administrative body of the Pro-Bono department at the University of Oregon. My application was full of all the touting language that recommended my accomplishments and general skills, but I am pretty sure that something written in the application contained some form of meaningful duty. I really want to work for underrepresented populations, the indigent, the tired, the hungry etc. etc. at least while I don't have student loans to pay back. . .

It's a very weird feeling for me to be having, but I think it may be that time wherein I release my intellect and capability onto something other than myself. The self-contained education, desires, thoughts and possibilities that have sort of sat unused need a different venue than drunken conversations and unsuspecting young women.

I'm rather afraid of this prospect. When I attach a goal to my actions I suddenly become accountable for their effect and design. But I suppose that threat is one to be faced. It is definitely the time to do.

Avast, But Alas My Ship Has Sailed.

2009-08-30T20:28:00.000-07:00

Avast —a nautical command to stop or cease.

I have accomplished more in the past eighteen days than I have during the time period of December 2007 to August 11, 2009. Here is a summarized list of my accomplishments:

Found an appropriate and suitable house; retrieved and organized furniture and other items for use within the house; bought food to cook within the house; connected utilities for improved functionality of the house; prepared the backyard to be used by the miniature schnauzers; sprayed a mild poison around the perimeter of the house to repel spiders from housing within my house; successfully executed my enormous loan; bought a bike; rode said bike to and from the law school eight days in a row; set-up a sufficient desk on which to study; regained an appetite for food as compared to booze and cigarettes; attended each and every class faithfully; established myself as a liberal, even amongst a liberal school; determined which professor I will not get along with for the next five months; researched and then succesfully accomplished the relighting of a pilot light; engaged in meaningful conversation; took into account the law-school experience at large; was not entirely jaded by law-school experience at large; rekindled the loving admiration of a certain black miniature schnauzer; made a friend in a fellow law student named Jake; drank several glasses of beer far better than that which I had ever tasted before with my fellow law student named Jake; studied once in the school library; and, finally, managed to complete the Molten Core instance on World of Warcraft, albeit with a level 72 character. Oh yeah, I also regained some element of good faith in the dating scene, despite the hurdles of insufficient geographic proximity to the one I fancy.

And it wasn't until sometime around 1 P.M. PST today that I stumbled upon the beginning of a spotty and imperfect realization . . .

It seems that today I am forced into self-reassessment, the sort where the expectations of what I ought to be doing seem to have changed around me and I am left with this shell of responsibility that requires my immediate attention . . . what a bitch. Nothing compares to the tacit, and somewhat forceful, ushering of one's responsibility from one spectrum to the other. I suppose I should refrain from using the word tacit due to the events leading me into this hot-mess are the result of my unyielding desire to go off to a school that's not only far away, but is extremely demanding. I wonder if I'm masochistic, or maybe I'm driven, or perhaps this is the sort of self induced crucible that prevents the horrors of poverty and an ill-formed way of going about life. Perhaps I just have something to prove to someone, although I couldn't rightly tell you who would need proof of my educational dedication. Or maybe none of these explanations do justice to the purposeful upsetting of my way of living, sometimes I think the law calls to me simply because there is nothing else I would rather do. It is this that I bank on, this is the sort of thought that gets me through eight hours of studying.

I've found something beautiful in this accomplished loneliness. When you haven't a person around to love or give attention to, or even to smoke cigarettes with this sort of melancholy realization that you are absolutely free seeps over you. Today I woke up and did not brush my teeth. I didn't shower until 5 P.M. I laid half naked in my bed reading assorted material and fell into this sort of hyper-autonomous stupor of absorbtion and entertainment. No one called. No one asked a single thing of me. The only pressing issue was two cases to be briefed for civil procedure - which I did at my leisure. The day wore down and I finally took notice of my unkempt, liberated state. It was striking to think of the effort I put forward, even in times of leisure, for someone with whom I share a bed. Despite my desire to have a "her" there I have to admit it felt fucking great to be a slob. Because tomorrow I rise early and take aim at studious things. Tomorrow gets to be another in a long series of days in which I supposedly emerge with a law degree. Today I get to be nothing but a person alone in his room with good music being stolen off the internet and a neglected law book on his desk.

the deductive existence

2007-04-23T21:41:00.003-07:00

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.

on coldness

2007-04-23T21:41:00.001-07:00

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.

a stranger in the club

2007-04-23T21:38:00.002-07:00

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.

oh, you masters of war

2007-04-23T21:38:00.001-07:00

"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.

congealed obscenity

2007-04-23T21:35:00.000-07:00

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.

metaphysical cornflakes, now existing in a store near you

2007-04-23T21:34:00.002-07:00

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.

sound the retreat

2007-04-23T21:34:00.001-07:00

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.

the initial breach

2007-04-23T21:31:00.000-07:00

authors note: neither truth nor relevant. an excercise in thought.

dearest,

i know it will shock you, but i'm a hypocrite.

the realization came to me in a sullen fit of despair and gloom; directly followed by another shot from a half empty bottle.
you know they say this stuff is poison, but i'm not familiar with any other type of poison that brings one to a state of such honesty, brutality, and, quite frankly, terror. at least we know that such a defintion fails by analogy.

anyway, back to my epiphany; i have found the deepest sort of hypocrisy residing within myself, partially hidden and fully disguised. it's right where you said it would be my love.

such a standard discovery, in so standard a spot

.

well, it's high time i come clean about it.

my admonition: the entirety of my character, essence, personality, karma, (insert ambiguos term for one's inner-self here) have been a culmination. yes dear, a culmination . . . you know, a collection, catalog, group, etc. and, moreover, culminated for a very specific and deadly purpose.

at this point your author will "spill the beans" on his devious plan:

i want to move.

i know it's sudden, although expected, but i believe it is neccesary. there's no use in arguing about it, nor is there any gain in sending a reply to this letter. so i will explain, with some brevity, my plan.

i will finish my degree, most likely in some form of summer school to wrap up loose ends, then i will take my leave. simple isn't it?

where will i go? it doesn't really matter. ive got the skills and materials neccesary to start up anywhere. all the location will prove is a standard of living dependent upon my income and rent.

so, yeah, that's it. i know you'll be shocked when you recieve this so i suppose i'll give some sort of explanation. the truth is, i haven't felt much like i've belonged for the longest time. it's grown to be irksome because i've made wonderful friends (although none can be more than that, either by sex or circumstance) and they will be missed dearly.

(end letter)

Begin B
R
E
A
K
D
O
W
N

wait . . . this hypocrisy is some form of dissasociation, this is neither essential nor founded. i love too many here, but i'm afraid i can't even bear to look at myself any longer.

the truth is, things cannot feel right without my own peace. and i'm not quite sure i've ever felt it; except of course, with her. but you know how memories play tricks.

scratch that. all memories are merely tricks, at least to some extent or another.

(rage) . . . (rampage) . . . (rape) . . . (gama) . . . (rpg)

ah h, the re it goe s again. dissas ociation.
m ore mem ories.

(take) (away) (what) (you) (must)

dissasociation.

sincerely,
(B?N)

disconnected/vulgar preachings

2007-04-23T21:20:00.000-07:00

the idealists hold that every facet of the world is, at the very least, influenced, if not controlled by the mind. the realists suggest that things exist outside of human perception. the idealists claim that nothing about the object gives off a dispositional property that could be cited as distinguishable from the sense used in recieving the properties of the object.

sometimes, when i try to sleep, my room looks different than it has ever looked before. thats not saying that it looks different in a similar way, but that it looks different, uniquely, each time. . . sometimes. sometimes my abstract notion of time, space, reality, myself, and those things which are not myself change their face, omit any notion of permanence . . . become spectral and fleeting. like waking up in a room with a person you know nothing about.

physics suggests that the nature of the components that make up human life will never allow us to actually touch. the seperation between the parts of atoms and the charges that they hold will repell any merging of one atom to another. in essence, we bounce- everywhere, we push or we retreat. we do not touch.

my senses are my avenues to you. but just like an avenue in some city, mine is unique. it doesn't fit the one next to it, nor does it meet any standard of what an avenue is always supposed to be. touch,sight,smell, sound, taste all vary, all give vague referential descriptions to something very concise.

in truth, theres not too much more to say about the disconnectedness that charecterizes everything around.

i suppose the very nature of such thoughts calls out for some redeeming force (enter god, karma, buddha, faith) and i suppose that one can't be blamed for wanting more out of the relationships they create.

but still, there is something to be said for reality, authenticity and the practical sense that arises when one's view is clear. we exist completely apart, never being able to know anything but the verbal or written thoughts of others. we see only shells and causes upon dispositions upon causes. but there is truth in a connectedness that fulfills a level of connection completely unique and real. we need not dillude ourselves any further. theres no more explaining to be done.

we are connected by our very lack of direction. the innate questioning and fearfulness and wonderment at the human condition surpasses the bullshit that is created by irrelevant mythos that are substituted for reality in order to make one feel more at peace. we are peace, just as much as we are war. we are an indictment upon ourselves, we are our own disease, our own cure. we are both nothing and everything. and we suffer simultaneously.

Doestoevsky had it right when critiquing the notion of christianity by saying that even if god exists, if the time on earth is a test of our will and love of christ, even if all the earth's trials were part of the test then he still rejected the idea, simply because the means could not justify the ends.

there is no further good than the good we create. there is no further hope. though the alternatives of faith, longevity, and immortality may be convincing they are but a cheap trick of insecurity. release the fear of death and begin the bravery of life, without the prohibition and condemnation of dogmatic, oversimplified systems.

conversation

2007-04-23T21:18:00.000-07:00

"Crystal clear darling,"
she replied as her evening gown spread out in a fan of cloth, sequin, and tainted glory along the plush rug of the executive suite. The rug was Oriental, it's patterns vivacious and structured; it met an aesthetic standard that had the simultaneous result of visual stimulation and mental approval. The rug was unique, it was large, it was rich.
Her eyelashes caught a glimmer of the overhead light; an obvious trick designed by the cosmetic product she had paid slightly too much for. But the trick worked. He saw the glimmer and found himself gazing into the intensely beautiful graveyard that had long ago filled her eyes. There was something captivating in how flatly the brown of her pupils did nothing to his emotion, yet left the distinct impression of sound, artificial beauty, like there was a standard beyond his feelings that made those eyes appealing. Her eyes were the antithesis to the rug.
"I'm not quite sure you understand it,"
He spoke with a snarl that lightly merged into an almost genuine sound of concern. This tone, unlike the cosmetic, was not something bought at too high a price; at least he hadn't yet suffered any significant consequence for the way his words would both judge and condemn in an effortless string that floated from his well groomed, well trained, mouth.
He was a master, there was no question. Years had been spent training this sort of communication that polluted the air with some bleached form of vanity that left a bitter taste in the listeners mouth.
She replied duely, "No, I assure you, I know quite well what formal argument Descartes employs in both the second and sixth mediations of his book, yet I find that even though the person is seen as to exist Descartes still relies heavily upon the influence of god to account for the way one tends to exist."
She smiled a bit as she put forward the card she had chosen to play. She knew he couldn't handle any argument that began metaphysical discussion of the nature of god. His convictions were strong enough to blind him of real, cogent, inequities.
His reply was tart as his facade of civility faded, "Madam, I don't know what it is you think you're implying, but I can assure you, as both a Christian and a soldier, Descartes needs not explain anything about God other than his divine perfection."
The last word was almost spit from his mouth. It was welcomed with a warm (though slightly condescending) smile from the woman from across the room.
She stood, grabbed her belongings and began towards the door. As she neared the exit she turned slightly to look behind at the outraged man and spoke, "Your feelings do you credit sir, yet you are holding onto a chain of faith so tightly that you have not taken notice of how firmly the excess has wrapped itself around you. You are bound to each other equally; and though you will always have a chain to hold whilst stumbling around in verbal darkness, you can never escape it's grasp."
The outrage upon the mans face burst forward as his demeanor became an effort in holding back the physical reaction to astonishment and pure hatred. How dare she, how dare she!?

His mind churned on this question, focusing specifically on how she managed to avoid the dogmatic principle that had consumed his life.

He felt his hand clench tight around itself, as if a chain were wrapped snuggly against his bare skin.

She walked on, remembering the days when her evening gown did not fade so much against the backdrop of aesthetic construction, Oriental or not.

fog

2007-04-23T21:15:00.000-07:00

Managing interest in a all too familiar Denny's. Catching threads of conversation that weave a tapestry of the night. Embracing your own feelings of inadequacy as your patterns interweave with friends you feel you've known forever and those you would like to know more about. It is odd, that your desires can shift suddenly with the slightest irritation. How you can surprise yourself with your own interest; to wonder if you've really got your heart in it this time . . . or whether lonliness is playing another trick on you.

The departure leads to foggy streets, treacherous roads, and a seedy establishment.

Bum a smoke, for the hundreth time. Sit and make yourself comfortable. Ask where the rest are at, who's asleep, who has to work. Then you move on the present company. Notice the threads that make a completely seperate design; where motives, explanations, justifications, reasons, and emotions pattern themselves after some sort of semblance of life.

I come to a conclusion. The most beautiful of designs are emblazoned with the most beautiful of colors. The array is never subtle, never complacent. It is vibrant. I watch the colors cascade in my small tapestry. Watch them match and reflect and create the world around.

I leave the seedy apartment. The fog has settled onto the treacherous roads. Ahead white light pierces the freezing mist. I immediately assume its the moon, due to the intense beauty and justifcation of light and dark. This light shines.
I drive past the cheap houses, down the treacherous streets, and find, around the corner, the beautiful illumination is the light of a billboard, whoring some advertisement for some obscene cost.

And I realize, beauty is translucent, changing, ineffible. I see it where I want, and with whom I want to see it. It has the potential to fulfill me, to make me lost, to make me wonder how to impress over the table at a cafe.

But mostly, it makes me doubt. To desire it, bask in it, be with it. It is too much, and never enough.

1

2007-04-23T21:11:00.000-07:00

this is my blog. i've joined the trend and will, hopefully, migrate the majority of my work onto the new "digital wasteland." so spread it, like fucking wildfire. the need to release is supported directly by the need to be recognized. so i submit. enjoy.