Ah man, the fucking muse, the bitch. I often find solace in turning my demons into.. demons and my gods into gods. I mean really they fuck with us, we are their playthings no matter how incrementally we understand them it’s only at best a fraction of anything useful of their nature. We will never know their nature and that is the only nature we can gleam from them. I don’t know, to me we can find a pattern in anything. Our lives are a series of intersecting labyrinths of rhythm and I tap into Pattis rhythm of this rhythm finding. It worked me out ironed me out perfectly theres a rhythm theres a rhythm in everything and everythings a virus a series of hypnotisms that too thats how I get by lately I know whatever rhythm i’m on its justifiable somewhere and if I’m not digging the current rhythm then why not? and its usually that i’m nostalgic for a rhythm I had once or I’m bored with this rhythm. Usually I’m bored I get so fucking bored. But lately I find the boredom is the answer. Boredom to me is a holy thing. Its a dissatisfaction and a sense of acceptance with this current state. Acceptance is death. Death is accepting life. Our lives are dissonant destructive impetuous demons with a limited moth-like flurry into this world with pollen supplies too vast to ever taste em’ all so I just flurry. Usually I’m bored. Usually this thing I’m sitting in this moment I’m sitting in this bed I’m in this person I’m with this person I’m talking to the stillness of my mind. What’s wrong with stillness of mind. Stillness makes me anxious. Manic states make the buddhist anxious. I wish we could swap. I wish I could trade all the worlds insanities for the stillness of my worlds. But why is that? Theres anxiety in everything. If its anxiety I want. Theres something in everything thats my belief. We are lead into realms of meaning by the very design of our language. By the very design of language itself. We’re funneled into these pits of emptiness and incompleteness. So I would never dream of being capable of giving a fitting response for this is no response to what you are talking about. What we are talking about is bigger than anything. It is the thing underneath it all. Its the beast I’ve been grappling with ever since I have been conscious. Its the real reason of my cries, the baby milk just softening its pain. Its the reason our wounds harden and the tinnitus – latin for ‘ringing’ – an endless ohm that some make holy and others make their nightmare, its the speckles in the sky that never go away they just meld into the background a constant static that impedes any blackness you once had theres never blackness and either there’s endless loneliness or endless connectivity endless mikvah luke-warm baths even have regions of heat and limbs and hot spots and we all want a hot spot with some limbs but either way the thought cannot be reduced it cannot be ignored, only incorporated and there are two doorknobs to… as bobby said: And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways You can touch and twist And turn two kinds of doorknobs and its always a binary choice and neither is ‘right’… I’ll ask for Bobby’s help again. Bobby’s Help And though it’s only my opinion I may be right or wrong You’ll find them both In the Grand Canyon At sundown You’ll find them both in the grand canyon at sundown. Both existences, all existence, can be found not just there but in any moment, any place, and thats whats fucked. This is the great unsidesteppable for me. I don’t know how to get passed this one. There is this darkness found everywhere in anything. This darkness is infinite. There is no objective happiness. And however much I talk about the relativity of what I say and the meaninglessness of it all there is never an out, not that I’m aware of until I’m out. I slip out, I always slip out and there’s the faith that I’ll slip out again, but it’s never good enough. So I’ve decided to always look. Never settle. I’m never settling again and I’m never getting nostalgic, if i’m remembering I’m reliving everything shall be lived through me I shall not be passive even writing is lived I will not be objective to anything no more neutrality to me the body is a black hole a reversal death we travel backwards towards our fate and meaning is drawn towards us in our special unique pattern, bee dance to the nectar of nothingness and this is our living historically backwards facing and forward some double-headed steppenwolf but to me its about dancing you see dancing is living everything in my life needs to be a dance otherwise I’m just miming i’m just pretending I never played as a child I played for keeps I played to the death my play is life and so I must slip out of it all I’m shedding play clothes we must dance naked not for some purity not always naked either but just remember nakedness remember virginity and the purity of our existence remember our ancestry in those dark caves dancing christmas, winter equinox, three days in a cave, no self just desires sometimes submitting to one sometimes another the pure manifestation of desire is only possible in the absence of self so I submit myself to abduction I offer whatever I have I’ve relinquished everything to my slave-drivers and they can do with me what they will but I have allegiances to many I’m a spiritual double-agent I’ll double-cross anything to get that girl to chase that rabbit taste that light eat everything in sight i’ll devour everything I’ll devour anything I can i’ll smoke it, chew it, suck it, fuck it, I want it and it’s all over now and all now and out over and out over and begun begin and end together destruction completion actualisation i stop becoming, I get bored I’ll become.. you, you thought, you bore me with your stagnation I call you Stagnate Stagnatus I’m bored give me a new kick there’s only so much to do with this whole relativity so i pass it over kick it over to someone elses kick later whatever not my kick anymore I can’t be fucked laziness can be a virtue everything can be a virtue whats a virtue? A virtue is an indulgence of a demon. As many virtues as desires. Virtuous political systems. Political systems develop like any natural ecology, why do we want these particular patterns, that’s what I keep asking. Often I’m avoiding something man. I’m always fucking avoiding. Thats the troll in my asshole right now, it blocks all my excretion, all my joy of shit, shit being everything in existence everything can be eaten and shat, shit is everything. This troll he blocks it all. This troll that flits me from one thing to the other to me I want to indulge I want virtous life a devoted life. I devote myself to things is what I do. I have methodically found the ways of life that lead to the most kicks. Roughly, the order that I threw things away was something like: ‘holiday’, family, nationalism, sex, self. I find them all so boring. Almost every title I find limits me. I hate that shit. Social titles are especially shit. Social life in general is one of the shittest things I’ve ever hated. I always get so limited by it. Its the socialness of religion that I hate. Its the dogmatism. Ah it makes me want to fucking vomit. Violently. Its how they all manipulate each other and themselves in the eyes of each other. Awk. Social. Man everything needs to be reduced. I feel like the world is a messy room. These rooms never get the Sunday cleaning. Aw its all so messy. So cluttered. Useless pamphlets are our carpet. I can’t pretend to be clean. Yank. Septic tank. Let me wallow in the shit let me rub myself up in our refuse its all a fucking shithole so I’m rubba dub dubbing myself and wheeling around shit fights whirling by I’m all american as I can be rhyming slang instilling the ring to my voice mouthing the words to I pledge allegiance playing in reverse over the dream machine this is my anti-spell I have a dialectic anti-spell for each of you ‘poof’ and it can all go ‘poof’. These things these things that take us over Daniel, I’ve been trying to talk about things but you’ve opened my P(andora) Box and this isn’t a brief topic for me, but these things that take us over. There are so many. We have to think didactically, logically, about these infinitely illogical beings. We have to think why we have allegiance to one and not this one. I mean really. Its about happiness in the end. We can’t live for ideas. This is very important to me is that we cannot live for ideas. We can only live ideas. Be ideas, only ever momentarily, even if that moment is a lifetime, all stories chased to completion end in death. But to me this is it. If an idea gives us pain theres a friction of forces and theres an alternate force we’re forgetting and can be considered. Then it becomes a decision. Everything can be made binary and this is where I get off. I turn everything into a fork in the road. I make a decision. Everything is my decision. Everywhere I’ve been and everywhere I go is a decision of mine and I’m never the victim to anything except myself. There is no ‘fairness’ and no cheating. If anything, if we were forced to use these words, I would have to say the closest thing it resembles is that unfairness is the rule and you, not the house, is always cheated and exploited. No one promised us meaning. We were bold enough to ask for it so we are given the task of finding it. Its easy enough anyway. Pain and sadness to me are interesting. I am scared of indifference but it is startlingly reminiscent of absolute interest. I diffuse myself into everything and lose myself. Now I have an overlapped dedication to certain muses. A conscious dedication. I’m finding by didactic logic that which provides my kicks most consistently in both strength of kick and length of its visitation and also what kicks it excludes and which kicks it improves. There is an economy of kicks. I try reading buddhism but it makes me nauseous, I agree with their use of words in trying to free us from fetters but I’m never seeking immortality. I’m seeking to remember. I’m only ever remembering. I’m remembering my kicks, how to get them. I remember where my kicks are, and which I was just doing for some concurrent kick that I used to be in but really if I’m to be honest with myself I ended up lending myself to to complete the two-part, three-part, poly-part structure I fell in love with. I guess this is what I’m saying is that we can lend ourselves to these ideas and be taken with them, yet we have to construct a certain kind of insurance for ourselves a reminder, some kind of mental tattoo that says in the end I’ll get my kick, and I’m only ever using, devouring ideas for my own kick, and once it dries up I owe you all nothing and you me, there is only instant transaction and IOU is simply a form of control that the lender and borrower have to be foolish enough to deal with the king devil Time and really in the end its all the same and equalised so you might as well just trade it all up but no matter what I say theres no comforting prayer thats not an illusion and thats all I’m ever offering whether its a thousand or ten thousand words or a breathe all I’m ever hoping for is some kind of prayer that hits holy but I’m never saying their infallible we’re all balloons and we drop and rise with unknown currents unsure of the friction that helps raise and lower our own inflation… this is really hard. I can’t offer comfort. I can only offer myself. I am pure. I am honest. I can only offer honesty. We can all say words like: I love you, I think you’re amazing, I think you’re great, I love your work, I think you’re a genius, I think you’re incredible, I think you’re special, I think you’re nice, I think you’re good, I think you’re a good person, I think we have something special, I think you have something special, I think this is good, ad infinitum compliments. Theres an endless of stream of complimentation that no victim of can ever endure if in a state that we would think needs these kind of things. Death has been playing lately, to which there is no consolation. Which has reminded me how there is never any consolation. Basically we need to swallow this immense life and shit it out stir through our shit and fertilize new lives with it, disgrace ourselves, horrify others. We need to live new lives. We can’t stagnate. Stagnatus. Sadness is a pain. A lag in time. A boring fucking fold that we’re stuck in. We need to pinch it off and continue. We must find our kicks. Our penises hold kicks. Our sleep holds kicks. Reading. Dancing. Writing. Profanity. Drunkenness. Pain. Sitting still watching rain. Watching shit. Shitting. Showering real hot. There’s a rhythm somewhere Daniel. Find it. Find the rhythm. Forget everything and find it. Forget everything. We must remind ourselves to forget everything. Its a hard reminder. Its the curse of the skeptic. Descartes before he yelled uncle with his God. I hated him for it. I loved then hated that man. His words. OK but especial demons are social demons. What the fuck are they? Social niceness makes me sick. I wish I could vomit it all out. I hate it all. Niceness is absolute nothing. AH, worse than nothing. Nothing in sheeps clothing. Greener pastures are another type of demon. It is the demon of fear. Fear of ourselves. We fear our inability and act reserved around our loves and don’t pursue them completely from some fear of lameness perhaps or fitting under this title or being predictable or who knows what else. Awkwardness is beautiful. Its special. It sleeps between our accepted ideas of social interaction. Honesty. I dig honesty.
