Afternoon tea
There are times when certain songs spring to life to create the beautiful illusion of hope
.
I look out my window to see the different realities out there. Two complex beings, cellular hives, are walking amidst their inferior kinsmen, laughing and cheering.
.
The sun burns mighty a flame atop the velvet skies, as leaves appear creating a vast green mist to shroud our lands. Women, reborn anew into their purest form, dancing amongst the colourful fields of flowers. The spring time has come and we must all succumb to its glory.
.
My wings are already crafted - in the forge of the brood beast
-
O.O
of life
Son, can you feel the freshness in the air?
.
Real Madrid are getting a hold on the Clasico series as crazed April marches onwards. The Auntmother has returned to bestow oppression upon the mere commonfolk, as the enterprising machines struggle mechanically to reach their optimal states.
.
Fresh and clean. No more taint. So... free
.
The holy sun rises high above the Swedish skies, turning brown into green (ha) and forests into mysteries. Roaring beasts have occupied the once so pure metal streets, and we must all face ourselves.
.
So... tired
wobbleth
All hail the daze!
Followers of the blaze
Smoke the leaves from the mighty stem
Wake up, it's 4.20 p.m
.
I know not of thine plans for world domination. All they told me, in their pitiful orgy of coexistence, was that you were somehow connected with the fearsome league of trinities.
-
Still up? Gotosleep!
inhaleexhale
Yesterday's crisps lie strewn across the morning lit floors. Beams of energy pierce through the windows and fall gently upon my cheek. It is warm, and very beautiful, and I wish deerly to venture out to play. But with whom? And doing what? People, including me, do not seem to recall how to do such things anymore.
.
It is beautiful, but still I cannot somehow shake that unsettling smell of dried tobacco that has lately become quite prominent in my once so sterile lands. It was a good night after all. I went to bed too early, and woke up just in time to this haze. I tried to watch a movie, a really good one at that, but it failed me. Then I tried reading, but I fell asleep. Now I'll try something else, with little or no hopes of successs-
.
Still we breathe
World Tourettes
A sleeping wizard, wrapped in bed
Magic wands, and eyes so red-
.
So that's what's going on over here, in sunny sunny Homeplace! The petty roar of the garden machine outside is causing a sort of tingling in my Reality and I do not yet know whether I want it to proceed or not. Probably not. It's a rather hellish sound WHEN ONE'S TRYING TO FUCKING SLEEP-
.
On further notes my tourettes has gone down. I can now talk normally to most people, and should I turn into cursing/screaming, well, then it is by choice, rather than not being able to control myself.
.
Woah, the sounds are really turning infernal out there. The whatevermachine is exploding in a dub step like haze and I need to drink some sunlight before the darkness wakes up.
goof
illusive
A popular "philosophical" question in our day is that of the half full/half empty glass. It is used a philosophical barometer for deciding whether one is an optimist or a cynic. I often hear my anty surroundings replying to this question with a sort of strange resolution, which grows stronger with their stupidity. They think that, well no they don't, but rather, they pretend to think that someone considering a glass half full is an optimist and vice versa.
lol
dis heer how it shud be
Optimist: The glass is half full when I'm thirsty, and half empty when I'm not
Cynic: The glass is half emptied when thirsty and half full when not.
The realist knows that the glass is either of those, both of those and none of those all the same.
pseudo apathos
Sitting by a lonesome river, or climbing up a deer trodden path in the middle of spring, one can either contemplate the foundations of the universe, or fall into a metamorphal trance. There's not that much separating the two, really. Both are a sort of cosmic connection, expressed in different ways.
One can often at these moments feel the presence of the self. As if our very souls can sense their own metaphysical shapes. The self is here divided into two primal personalities, the collaboration of which results in the individual's own personality. One strong, one weak. One positive, one negative. One constructive, one destructive.
One pius worshipper of God.
One heden servant of Satan.
We can often experience ourselves by conversing with it. All thoughts derive from and are bult upon these conversations. It is the voice figuring out the consequenses of your actions as well as the voice telling you to break loose.
In accepting the self as the central figure of the universe, one can achieve alot. As an individual God-entity, a human being can rise to spiritual heights, unfathomable to all those who dared not dreaming. However, to abandon the humanity constant, i.e the notion that other humans are in fact other "beings" and are not just bricks in one's material utopia, is a very unstable choice. Why? Because with this follows basically ALL other illusions; be it goodness, love, trust - all those things that grant life its unpredictability - the same unpredictability that led us to this beautiful state of mind.
No, the self must never become more than the central figure. It mustn't devour the illusions floating about in the perifery. That is, of course, if not the rather admirable apathy is the actual destination of one's journey.
Though there are far too many hypocrites wearing the cloak of apathy, in order to gain illusive success. It is my duty to expose them. Ha-ha duty. . . what a silly word.
One can often at these moments feel the presence of the self. As if our very souls can sense their own metaphysical shapes. The self is here divided into two primal personalities, the collaboration of which results in the individual's own personality. One strong, one weak. One positive, one negative. One constructive, one destructive.
One pius worshipper of God.
One heden servant of Satan.
We can often experience ourselves by conversing with it. All thoughts derive from and are bult upon these conversations. It is the voice figuring out the consequenses of your actions as well as the voice telling you to break loose.
In accepting the self as the central figure of the universe, one can achieve alot. As an individual God-entity, a human being can rise to spiritual heights, unfathomable to all those who dared not dreaming. However, to abandon the humanity constant, i.e the notion that other humans are in fact other "beings" and are not just bricks in one's material utopia, is a very unstable choice. Why? Because with this follows basically ALL other illusions; be it goodness, love, trust - all those things that grant life its unpredictability - the same unpredictability that led us to this beautiful state of mind.
No, the self must never become more than the central figure. It mustn't devour the illusions floating about in the perifery. That is, of course, if not the rather admirable apathy is the actual destination of one's journey.
Though there are far too many hypocrites wearing the cloak of apathy, in order to gain illusive success. It is my duty to expose them. Ha-ha duty. . . what a silly word.
paralell objectives. Schi-.-.-.-zo
If this is how it is going to be, then its not going to be.
Cut
Off
..
For now..
Cut
Off
..
For now..
As I recall it the sun was high
Away to farthern lands. Soon. Very soon.
Chains of unease keeping me from leaving. As my mind turns to analyze the source of this unease, a sort of flickering of thoughts swirling around takes place, forcing me out of that particular realm of my mind. Of course my hubrid forces broke down this pathetic excuse for a self defensive system quickly and efficiently, as has been the case oh so many times before.
Sure, its broken down, analyzed, criticized and ridiculed.
Yet I remain here, before this horribly bright screen, not really wanting to move. Ambiguous streams conflicting.
The capitalist enterprise has been a success by all means but that tingling feeling of power is receding.
For there is no beauty in perfection. I need something in order to regain my illusions. I think.
dot
dot
dot...
Graveyard are amazing .-.
Chains of unease keeping me from leaving. As my mind turns to analyze the source of this unease, a sort of flickering of thoughts swirling around takes place, forcing me out of that particular realm of my mind. Of course my hubrid forces broke down this pathetic excuse for a self defensive system quickly and efficiently, as has been the case oh so many times before.
Sure, its broken down, analyzed, criticized and ridiculed.
Yet I remain here, before this horribly bright screen, not really wanting to move. Ambiguous streams conflicting.
The capitalist enterprise has been a success by all means but that tingling feeling of power is receding.
For there is no beauty in perfection. I need something in order to regain my illusions. I think.
dot
dot
dot...
Graveyard are amazing .-.
derped dat
Whereabouts of Thereabouts
At this height of extacy I must linger.
Cosmic glimpse
Once a child
Once small
Once belittled
No one cared
for our speeches of freedom
No one minded
Our will to leave
The world was large
Grand and beautiful
Together we reinacted its beauty
Together we painted it
With our minds
We dreamed of a time
Wherein we were equal
To the greatness of this world
We made plans
We envisioned sights
We dreamt dreams
Of this majestic world
Of which we were all mere spectators
Of how it all would once be ours
Forever
Through the years we acquire
Strength and Soul
Tools to conquer
To cultivate
And we dance through life
Freely
But then
Something strange
Something hauntingly
And poetically
Beautiful
The men, once so great and strong
Appear weak and immoral
The laws, once so just
Appear bars in our iron prison
The Nation, once so grand
Appears a weeping mother
A helpless creature
For all is small and futile
To the hubris of mankind
To the demigods of the earth
And to their wicked hive
ooh the river flows
Cosmic glimpse
Once a child
Once small
Once belittled
No one cared
for our speeches of freedom
No one minded
Our will to leave
The world was large
Grand and beautiful
Together we reinacted its beauty
Together we painted it
With our minds
We dreamed of a time
Wherein we were equal
To the greatness of this world
We made plans
We envisioned sights
We dreamt dreams
Of this majestic world
Of which we were all mere spectators
Of how it all would once be ours
Forever
Through the years we acquire
Strength and Soul
Tools to conquer
To cultivate
And we dance through life
Freely
But then
Something strange
Something hauntingly
And poetically
Beautiful
The men, once so great and strong
Appear weak and immoral
The laws, once so just
Appear bars in our iron prison
The Nation, once so grand
Appears a weeping mother
A helpless creature
For all is small and futile
To the hubris of mankind
To the demigods of the earth
And to their wicked hive
ooh the river flows
materialistic success - crumbling worlds
And it was on this day, April 11th, that the micolan entrepenurial worlds prospered, for a new venture has been taken. Purely material this time - it feels so much cleaner than the ones I've taken before.
Cleaner, yes. Less emotional, less chance of suffering. I don't know why I'm even confusing the two; they are so completely separate. I guess my only explanation would be that both the emotional enterprises as well as the materialistic ones have this similar feeling of intoxication when the future holds brightness, and the same terrifying panicked anxiety when its all going to hell.
The difference being the cleanness.
Apathos shall guide me. Or so it seems. I wonder if my walls will turn their rage inwards by being too strong or if they will fall pathetically by the mere situation. Either way, I shall fail.
adieu
Cleaner, yes. Less emotional, less chance of suffering. I don't know why I'm even confusing the two; they are so completely separate. I guess my only explanation would be that both the emotional enterprises as well as the materialistic ones have this similar feeling of intoxication when the future holds brightness, and the same terrifying panicked anxiety when its all going to hell.
The difference being the cleanness.
Apathos shall guide me. Or so it seems. I wonder if my walls will turn their rage inwards by being too strong or if they will fall pathetically by the mere situation. Either way, I shall fail.
adieu
April breeze
As I entered the lovely outdoors this morning, I felt the wonderful stream of nature and warmth return to the earth. What an absolutely glorious feeling of pure nostalgia.
This weekend was labeled as "slow" in my mind book. Well, fuck my mind book. Alot of awesome shit went down these couple of days and I must thank the string pullers. I barely even lost anything money wise :D Anyway, it feels as if though we've been breathing our way through countless trees. wut.
I found myself below a mighty oak, its majestic stature humbling me. Leaf-fetuses spread throughout the leavery.
Also, I've finished compiling some written stuff - so as to hopefully get that scholarship in Eng (cash fo gnj) - happy days
Not so much... but you know, allright.
This weekend was labeled as "slow" in my mind book. Well, fuck my mind book. Alot of awesome shit went down these couple of days and I must thank the string pullers. I barely even lost anything money wise :D Anyway, it feels as if though we've been breathing our way through countless trees. wut.
I found myself below a mighty oak, its majestic stature humbling me. Leaf-fetuses spread throughout the leavery.
Also, I've finished compiling some written stuff - so as to hopefully get that scholarship in Eng (cash fo gnj) - happy days
Not so much... but you know, allright.
Legality
Red states should GTFO
youthful
I do not want to die, for it is much easier to believe.
Thus I breathe, when breathing leads me nowhere
Thus I speak, when my words disappear in the haze
Thus I think, when thinking brightens nothing
A mere replica of the bright.
A mere replica of God - the human mind fails to reach humanity, and I can't wait for it all to end
Such are the thoughts of a believer
A practicer of Life
A breather
Thus I breathe, when breathing leads me nowhere
Thus I speak, when my words disappear in the haze
Thus I think, when thinking brightens nothing
A mere replica of the bright.
A mere replica of God - the human mind fails to reach humanity, and I can't wait for it all to end
Such are the thoughts of a believer
A practicer of Life
A breather
Seals dying - children crying... shocking...
While I don't think this will have any conceivable effects on anything that will happen ever - I, upon stumblingon to this link, still felt morally obliged, perhaps out of sentimentality, to send you this letter. Have fun reading it, fellow activist, for it is obvious that it will be read by no one else...
Sin fucking serely and yours EVER truly
While I don't think this will have any conceivable effects on anything that will happen ever - I, upon stumbling on to a link to prevent seal slaughter, still felt morally obliged, perhaps out of sentimentality, to send a "letter". Have fun reading it, fellow activist, for it is obvious that it will be read by no one else...
.
It is enjoyable to see what causes moral uproar these days. The seals. Yes yes, you go on worrying about seals, while I'm over here fighting a fucking moral world war against the globalization. Even the fucking respectable people of society keep this narrow minded attitude towards life. Oh yes, we're going to prevent the seals from dying - then fucking what? We have lands with a couple of seals, along with other cutsie animals, being pushed further and further into small reservoirs of non-societyness. But that's just for now - what happens when the industrial devourer reaches the outskirts of civilization? Will the seal become an object for the Animal parks, or just another forgotten species in the erased history of man?
.
But sure, go on and help the seals, while you're at it, send a buck to the starving children of Africa. Let the global altruism be your shining star, and voluntarily let go of your inherent individuality. Kill the beast, and replace it with an artificial body - and join together in the never ending song.
.
Also, someone needs to put an end to the people commiting the deeds. BUT NOT under some wretched banner of morality, as seems the case with oh so many, but rather out of the pain of empathy. A true and impartial war where no one claims to be more just than the other, where no one carries the bible of society to do their bidding - where everyone acts from their own free fucking will.
.
Kill the seals, don't kill them. Kill the hunters, don't kill them. Canada doesn't fucking even exist for all I know...
