late night ramblings
it makes me cry to see such things. atrocities that have become so run of the mill, ya know? like seeing new haven protesters shout at each other over race. go home, they say, why don't you, you fucking ignorant redneck. the only people who are home are the native people and the animals, and even some of those animals were brought here by your stinking, unbathed, diseased ancestors. my own ancestors, even. but to feel guilt would be futile, self-serving. it is not guilt that makes us move forward but courage and selflessness- to share our thoughts without malice, no matter what arguments they may incite, and to share how we feel about the way the world is... because it is a fucked up existence and somebody's gotta say something.
the way the world is... we're kind of in the dark on that one, nobody knows really... i don't know, the penguins in antarctica seem to be pretty content living out their lives as they will, unaware that others may or may not be altering their existence. i sometimes wonder about altering existence, how can we really say that one path is off what was intended... what the fuck was intended? was the extinction of the dinosaurs any less of a tragedy than Hiroshima? is there a difference when something is man-made and when something occurs naturally...? if man is part of nature, then what we do isn't any less natural, it just all simply occurs. but people like to confuse things when it comes to humans, it's easy to use ourselves as a scapegoat, relieves some of that guilt... admittance is the first step, yes, but you have to take other steps or what's the point?
i absorb these bursting human bubbles, almost as if i am closer to nature than anyone other kind of creature, as if, as a human being, i can now relate to nature's constant pain from the flux of death and rebirth... born out of turmoil. but is peace something that really exists, or like the idea of cold or evil, is it simply the antithesis of something else... a concept dependent on the presence of its opposite? the peace and harmony of this world we live in depends on the bloodied teeth of hyenas as much as it depends on the clear-glass calm of the lake at dusk... if we are naturally occuring then we are what was intended... and our entropic nature is included.
consciousness, sensitivity... the essence of being human. to differentiate between calm and storm is our curse and blessing, the ability to prefer one over the other and to alter our environments to suit. to prefer happiness over all else, to pick what we've created over what is set before us...
maybe the problem with happiness is that it requires an ignorance of the truth, or at least a willingness to put the pain and suffering of others on the backburner to your Good Time™.
life is a hand full of magic beans and an empty pocket, nothing more.
the only assurance we have is that things will occur, and in no particular order.
the way the world is... we're kind of in the dark on that one, nobody knows really... i don't know, the penguins in antarctica seem to be pretty content living out their lives as they will, unaware that others may or may not be altering their existence. i sometimes wonder about altering existence, how can we really say that one path is off what was intended... what the fuck was intended? was the extinction of the dinosaurs any less of a tragedy than Hiroshima? is there a difference when something is man-made and when something occurs naturally...? if man is part of nature, then what we do isn't any less natural, it just all simply occurs. but people like to confuse things when it comes to humans, it's easy to use ourselves as a scapegoat, relieves some of that guilt... admittance is the first step, yes, but you have to take other steps or what's the point?
i absorb these bursting human bubbles, almost as if i am closer to nature than anyone other kind of creature, as if, as a human being, i can now relate to nature's constant pain from the flux of death and rebirth... born out of turmoil. but is peace something that really exists, or like the idea of cold or evil, is it simply the antithesis of something else... a concept dependent on the presence of its opposite? the peace and harmony of this world we live in depends on the bloodied teeth of hyenas as much as it depends on the clear-glass calm of the lake at dusk... if we are naturally occuring then we are what was intended... and our entropic nature is included.
consciousness, sensitivity... the essence of being human. to differentiate between calm and storm is our curse and blessing, the ability to prefer one over the other and to alter our environments to suit. to prefer happiness over all else, to pick what we've created over what is set before us...
maybe the problem with happiness is that it requires an ignorance of the truth, or at least a willingness to put the pain and suffering of others on the backburner to your Good Time™.
life is a hand full of magic beans and an empty pocket, nothing more.
the only assurance we have is that things will occur, and in no particular order.
Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish — a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow — to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested...
Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.
---
Suddenly I was tired of Lotterman;He was a phony and he didn't even know it. He was forever yapping about freedom of the press and keeping the paper going, but if he'd had a million dollars and all the freedom in the world he'd still put out a worthless newspaper because he wasn't smart enough to put out a good one. He was just another noisy little punk in the great legion of punks who marched between the banners of bigger and better men. Freedom, Truth, Honour- you could rattle off a hundred such words and behind every one of them would gather a thousand punks, pompous little farts, waving the banner with one hand and reaching under the table with the other.
---
Like most of the others, I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser. I was never idle long enough to do much thinking, but I felt somehow that my instincts were right. I shared a vagrant optimism that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably make it over the top. At the same time, I shared a dark suspicion that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actors, kidding ourselves along on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between these two poles - a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going.
---
It's a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die.
---
I understand that fear is my friend, but not always. Never turn your back on fear. It should always be in front of you, like a thing that might have to be killed.
---
We have become a Nazi monster in the eyes of the whole world, a nation of bullies and bastards who would rather kill than live peacefully. We are not just Whores for power and oil, but killer whores with hate and fear in our hearts. We are human scum, and that is how history will judge us. No redeeming social value. Just whores. Get out of our way, or we'll kill you. Who does vote for these dishonest shitheads? Who among us can be happy and proud of having all this innocent blood on our hands? Who are these swine? These flag-sucking half-wits who get fleeced and fooled by stupid little rich kids like George Bush? They are the same ones who wanted to have Muhammad Ali locked up for refusing to kill gooks. They speak for all that is cruel and stupid and vicious in the American character. They are the racists and hate mongers among us; they are the Ku Klux Klan. I piss down the throats of these Nazis. And I am too old to worry about whether they like it or not. Fuck them.
Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.
---
Suddenly I was tired of Lotterman;He was a phony and he didn't even know it. He was forever yapping about freedom of the press and keeping the paper going, but if he'd had a million dollars and all the freedom in the world he'd still put out a worthless newspaper because he wasn't smart enough to put out a good one. He was just another noisy little punk in the great legion of punks who marched between the banners of bigger and better men. Freedom, Truth, Honour- you could rattle off a hundred such words and behind every one of them would gather a thousand punks, pompous little farts, waving the banner with one hand and reaching under the table with the other.
---
Like most of the others, I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser. I was never idle long enough to do much thinking, but I felt somehow that my instincts were right. I shared a vagrant optimism that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably make it over the top. At the same time, I shared a dark suspicion that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actors, kidding ourselves along on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between these two poles - a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going.
---
It's a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die.
---
I understand that fear is my friend, but not always. Never turn your back on fear. It should always be in front of you, like a thing that might have to be killed.
---
We have become a Nazi monster in the eyes of the whole world, a nation of bullies and bastards who would rather kill than live peacefully. We are not just Whores for power and oil, but killer whores with hate and fear in our hearts. We are human scum, and that is how history will judge us. No redeeming social value. Just whores. Get out of our way, or we'll kill you. Who does vote for these dishonest shitheads? Who among us can be happy and proud of having all this innocent blood on our hands? Who are these swine? These flag-sucking half-wits who get fleeced and fooled by stupid little rich kids like George Bush? They are the same ones who wanted to have Muhammad Ali locked up for refusing to kill gooks. They speak for all that is cruel and stupid and vicious in the American character. They are the racists and hate mongers among us; they are the Ku Klux Klan. I piss down the throats of these Nazis. And I am too old to worry about whether they like it or not. Fuck them.
Labels: hst
my boyfriend suffered from a large stroke last tuesday. it's been a week and i am a completely different person already... you know what i mean? tragedy has a way of making truth blatant. i gotta say, when you say you love someone you better fucking mean it because if you don't and you're tested, you'll feel like an ass. i do not feel like an ass. i'm gonna help him beat this bullshit. rehab starts this week. the shock has worn off. boy have i ever learned more about me in the past week than i have in the past year... boy oh boy. and him, too. a fighter in action, running uphill. things will get better than you can imagine, doctor doctor, you cannot quantify the human spirit. i believe.
Labels: life
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