I don't know what to say. There's no focus here. Man, my mind has never been so clusterfucked. Every day every second is like a passing moment to break free and climb or just crumble. When did that become the only options?
Absolutely no structure of any kind, nothing to rely on. It's really a bitch that way. I know it doesn't really matter, I do everything on my own anyways, but there is a true emptiness now. There was never enough time for anything before as there is no time now, but too much time is wasted on useless endeavors, such as this dumb shit. Projects are spread out at different layers and levels leaving behind few finished pieces of failure to display.
It should be simple to create one's own structure, it even sounds ideal. But when at a level of loneliness, bullshit and forced interactions with those that destroy, it seems a clash impossible to solve. Dark, downer, useless attitudes and days are more damaging than before, easier to let happen when following your own structure. It's like giving yourself the day off to be fucking sad. Then your sad you took the day off and are even more fucked with all the shit you didn't do yet. Soon you will be overwhelmed and need another day off.
Just one of many exciting, new, "circles of despair" to choose from.
Ah, but, have you still your wits?
I have no idea anymore, really.
...the fuck?
This is ridiculous.Why am I doing any of this? Why am I still dragging along the earth's surface with nothing but my fractured mind? I have no outlet. No releases are working, nothing is coming in. Bits are slowing breaking off and dissolving in a pool of boiling piss. Life has become a dark alley nestled between cold steel walls of reality and reason. Only continuance is granted. Requests for pleasure are not only rejected, but returned as pain and degradation.
Existence is silver.
Do not talk to me, or correspond. I did not ask for any of this, nor do I deserve it. Do not ask anything of me.
You are not trusted.
I am solid, strong and broken. Purely corrupted. A sweet chewy core only found by the most gifted of somebodies.
Where is everyone?
fuck off then...
Existence is silver.
Do not talk to me, or correspond. I did not ask for any of this, nor do I deserve it. Do not ask anything of me.
You are not trusted.
I am solid, strong and broken. Purely corrupted. A sweet chewy core only found by the most gifted of somebodies.
Where is everyone?
fuck off then...
Who
A true addict to anything chosen. Yet no single addiction is enough, it must come in waves and phases. Fanatical, controlling feelings for euphoric drugs, orgasmic sexual release and height, madness, creation and destruction. All cycles repeating and overlapping.
There is no standard, there is no plan. There is just now. There is a feeling and then it’s done. Wait for another.
Life isn’t a fight. Life is a smooth ride. It's pain has become comfortable and thus may be no feeling at all, just an existence. Is there a need for it? What is your cause or reason for being here? Are you doing something, making something, breeding something? Why does it even matter?
Simply nothing matters. Make your releases no matter where you are or what you have become. There is no love or deepness between us but more confusion and pain. Why coincide with it?
Comfortable, purposed self-isolation, narcissistic sexual pleasure of mind and body. Trips to the edge of reality. Only nothing means anything.
Go on, fried space man..
Beaded lines
I know its common sense to just cross the street, one time and you're done, but I'd rather take repeated shallow trips up and down it instead. It's more interesting and it creates a fade-in to a new region.
This does leave one looking quite the fool, however. It's a confusing practice, to say the least, of mixed message and cloudy intentions.
This does leave one looking quite the fool, however. It's a confusing practice, to say the least, of mixed message and cloudy intentions.
Needs
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I need physical, climactic, personal release. There is for certain something grand to it, more than a simple bliss that just occurs and ends, but an opportunity, a gateway to a different place and existence in the mind and known world. Nothing compares to it. Though this climactic experience itself is breif, that may be indicitive to the idea that it is just a taste, a beggining, an unknown or understood moment of bliss, there to spark the appetite for something more.
If there is any nirvana, any high level achievement of peace, pleasure and happiness, it must be involved. It has to be at the core of all true, ultimate pleasure and happiness. It is an ecstasy of the mind from within.
Different worlds and experiences; all within ones own mind can be brought out through different methods such as drugs, alcohol, etc., but no matter how other-worldly these experiences are, none of them can be compared to the peak intensity of the orgasm. The mind alone is bringing these pleasures in either example through the use of one or more of these outside contributors, not its own existance. In either case these outside aspects contribute and decide the intensity of the experience, but no matter the influence, the pleasure is ultimately created and received within the mind itself. The orgasm will always top any chemically produced euphoria in regards to pure pleasure of mind, body and “soul” which also makes its cycle of self creation and heightened power intriguing.
So, how can all of this be used or controlled? Not controlled by making it happen whenever you want, that's an easy one. But how can it be "harnessed"? Used as an extended high? Leading to some grand level of bliss, or at least some kind of mad, self created mega-buzz. There seems to be so much power here, not just in its desires but the actual power over the body, the euphoric feelings within and the pleasure receptors of the mind. Nothing else can be seen or thought during this phenomenon.
This idea shall be pondered, researched and highly investigated.
Reports will continue.
Parapraxis list of Wants
I wanna destroy you
I wanna know
I wanna live
I wanna stab you with something rusty
I want drugs
I want in
I want my baby on Mars
I want to
I want to be a proctologist
I want to go home
I want to live
I want you
I want you around
I want you back baby
I want you so bad I cant breathe
I was guided
I was only trying to…
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Update
Late night drives seem to be my only calming exit lately. Its my warm safe place where I am in control, obviously, but it's more than that. I am separate from the world yet deep within it. I listen to roaring beats while smoking in a warm, non-offensive to others, luxurious private box. All the amenities and comfort I do not deserve and the only place I can get it. The beastly vehicle grabs at snow so there's never an excuse not to head out into the night. My best and clearest thoughts spring from late night drives. I can't record them though. I've tried that shit, I can't stand the way I sound and listening to myself later would just remove all validity to anything I say, at least to me anyways, its just fucking awful. Dictation makes too many mistakes. With my already random thoughts, I can't tell what the fuck I was saying when I try to read it later.
Thirty-five
Here it is. There is nothing to tell. No past and no future.
Broken hearted
No child
No job
No education
Future exploits are unseen
I have nothing to say for myself and no one to blame. I have no triumphant stories, or even interesting stories of failure.
Just failure
Failure at life, failure at love, failure at the happiness dreamed
Weakness
How can passion from my very soul fizzle into nothing?
What true passions lurk, what true feelings are gone?
When does one really give up?
What's to say of giving up. Is it the ultimate end? Or just an ultimate change?
Is it cowardly?
Or intellectually reasonable?
Don’t answer that.
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-3.jpg)
Damn, I lost.
Who knew the shit would go down like this?
Well, I guess I did.
I mean, I know who I am, I have a gift for failure in many aspects of my life and so it continues on, and gets more significant. More identity is lost and thoughts drift in predictable directions. The direction of a lost, darkened idiot.
Occasional moments of clarity and reality attack the mind.
Purpose? Oh, what is purpose?
Reasons not to follow the powdered trail to the grand portal.
Simple power. Skill and determination for the journaled dreams and guidence found in the bindings of dust and decay. Creation of a spot. A liquid emotion. Distributed evenly among the starving cells of the brain.
Try again, you'll never do it.
Well, I guess I did.
I mean, I know who I am, I have a gift for failure in many aspects of my life and so it continues on, and gets more significant. More identity is lost and thoughts drift in predictable directions. The direction of a lost, darkened idiot.
Occasional moments of clarity and reality attack the mind.
Purpose? Oh, what is purpose?
Reasons not to follow the powdered trail to the grand portal.
Simple power. Skill and determination for the journaled dreams and guidence found in the bindings of dust and decay. Creation of a spot. A liquid emotion. Distributed evenly among the starving cells of the brain.
Try again, you'll never do it.
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An envelope
Where the fuck are we?
What time is it?
What year was it?
Global position
Life, time, air, wind
A leaf speaking of tranquil pity
Milky orange darkness engulfs an otherwise bright night, for such a pale afternoon
Blazing cold air moves cowardly with devious light, cruel and powerful
The temperature is determined by style and originality
Limitations are far from limited
Boundless brain-fucks repeated
lost? empty?
That rock there...
it looks like a vagina
What temptation.
What time is it?
What year was it?
Global position
Life, time, air, wind
A leaf speaking of tranquil pity
Milky orange darkness engulfs an otherwise bright night, for such a pale afternoon
Blazing cold air moves cowardly with devious light, cruel and powerful
The temperature is determined by style and originality
Limitations are far from limited
Boundless brain-fucks repeated
lost? empty?
That rock there...
it looks like a vagina
What temptation.
-5.jpg)
Syd
Today I am something.
I am no one
I am a brilliant, powerful man.
But a speck
I am beyond this bullshit
Greater than
Never was
I am me
I am real
I am fucking electric
I am regent
I am nothing and nobody
I am nothing and nobody
I have no want or need for possessions
But I own everything
I am worthless
But wanted by all
My life is meaningless
I am me
This is not the spark I ordered!
Vast flash fire of realities
Rise, fall, and gives way to a spec of brilliance and hatred
Hidden, gruesome treasures lay underneath mountains of stone rectangles, and clusters of artificial elation
It is searched for in repetition
Through telescopes, microscopes and tinted black plastic
With knowledge, reason and vigilance
Billions of specs cloud the sight
But in the dull, blurred, off-focus image, it is so clear that everything can be seen
Orange flavored currents emerge from beneath the old withered trees of time
The loss of verity as to even the existence of current location
A press to exit.
Rise, fall, and gives way to a spec of brilliance and hatred
Hidden, gruesome treasures lay underneath mountains of stone rectangles, and clusters of artificial elation
It is searched for in repetition
Through telescopes, microscopes and tinted black plastic
With knowledge, reason and vigilance
Billions of specs cloud the sight
But in the dull, blurred, off-focus image, it is so clear that everything can be seen
Orange flavored currents emerge from beneath the old withered trees of time
The loss of verity as to even the existence of current location
A press to exit.
Upness
I will have to settle for about 4.5 hours of sleep tonight. I have done worse and it will set me up for an appropriate sleep schedule for the rest of the week. I have previously and for quite some time, been attempting polyphasic sleep schedules of varying degrees. The short span of daylight and gray days of winter make it easy to lose all recognition of time. I have on several occasions confused AM for PM and vice-versa. Also there are unexpected occasional crashes. A sit in a comfortable chair can slip into a 2 or 3 hour nap that throws the entire schedule off and wastes mass amounts of time.
The foul, cloudy scent of life has equalized and can only diminish from this point. Power and freedom are in view, just beyond the fractured walls of candy coated barbed wire.
breakthroughs
Why this?
Why waste time posting bullshit thoughts to a blog in which no one will read, or if even accidentally found, will be ignored? Especially since no one really reads anymore. Its about pics and vids, youtube and short bursts of intellectual Twinkies on twit accounts. Following is encouraged. The less thought the better for this new era. Effort is avoided in every way, we've got cars that park themselves, are you fucking kidding me? but everyone still dies of the same diseases, progress is measured in pathetic ways.
Well I don't know why I'm here alone in my bunker doing this, really. I need some kind of venting, a release. I feel nothing from the reality of this turd planet. I only have feelings during releases of emotion, such as art, writing and orgasms.
I remember younger days of hope and love.
I also remember growing up in the grungy bleakness of the nineties. It was an era of angst and depression. Suicide was in, all the coolest people were doing it. Some odd phases went through that decade, for all. I feel cheated having my "best years" during that time. 1989 was literally the beginning of the end for me. Then, finally, at the end of that foul decade, I felt I found a source of repair and meaning, a reason for all this. That, of course, exploded into a destructive, twisting void. So now, turn another decade and I'm right back where I was. Do these things cycle in tens? It is time for an up cycle.
It is worse now though, its beyond the bleak atmosphere and low self-worth. Now I know more of reality and hopelessness than ever. I realized, lived, and bled. I understand this world more and hate it even more. I have lost all trust, all reason.
Honestly Id rather have just lived and died in the 40s, live until 18 and die on the shores of Normandy, at least a respectable cause, even if I didn't kill a Nazi. This life is purely pointless. I'm aware it is what you make it, but I had no idea how little can really be controlled. How the things that were sure are not anything.
Venting may be organized chaotic thoughts,maybe some mellow mind poetry, interpretations and commentary on the state of the blue ball, or just totally bullshit rants.
So in regard to the question of "why" can be answered with the classic response, why not? I really don't care who reads this, what anyone thinks of me anymore. i know that I am nothing, Ive accepted it. but whether or not this shit is read does not determine its creation. I will always write and vent until my time is up. Now it can just float in space among the deconstructed images and sounds of furry kitten videos and pornography.
Well I don't know why I'm here alone in my bunker doing this, really. I need some kind of venting, a release. I feel nothing from the reality of this turd planet. I only have feelings during releases of emotion, such as art, writing and orgasms.
I remember younger days of hope and love.
I also remember growing up in the grungy bleakness of the nineties. It was an era of angst and depression. Suicide was in, all the coolest people were doing it. Some odd phases went through that decade, for all. I feel cheated having my "best years" during that time. 1989 was literally the beginning of the end for me. Then, finally, at the end of that foul decade, I felt I found a source of repair and meaning, a reason for all this. That, of course, exploded into a destructive, twisting void. So now, turn another decade and I'm right back where I was. Do these things cycle in tens? It is time for an up cycle.
It is worse now though, its beyond the bleak atmosphere and low self-worth. Now I know more of reality and hopelessness than ever. I realized, lived, and bled. I understand this world more and hate it even more. I have lost all trust, all reason.
Honestly Id rather have just lived and died in the 40s, live until 18 and die on the shores of Normandy, at least a respectable cause, even if I didn't kill a Nazi. This life is purely pointless. I'm aware it is what you make it, but I had no idea how little can really be controlled. How the things that were sure are not anything.
Venting may be organized chaotic thoughts,maybe some mellow mind poetry, interpretations and commentary on the state of the blue ball, or just totally bullshit rants.
So in regard to the question of "why" can be answered with the classic response, why not? I really don't care who reads this, what anyone thinks of me anymore. i know that I am nothing, Ive accepted it. but whether or not this shit is read does not determine its creation. I will always write and vent until my time is up. Now it can just float in space among the deconstructed images and sounds of furry kitten videos and pornography.
Release
Life continues to explode in oscillations of sanity and stark loss.
One cannot completely put something back together after it has exploded.
There are pieces, yes. They can be put back in place, fractures and cracks can be repaired, but some parts will always be missing. Either lost or pulverized altogether out of existence.
How many explosions can one life endure? Reassembled it is weak, and more fragments and structure is lost with each destructive cycle continuously making it weaker.
One must know when not to pick up the pieces.
And let those pieces cover with earth and time until there is nothing left.
And life is lost.
lonely
A dot,
A spec in a concrete wasteland
Gray slabs of sky hover
As they crack and sag askew
The earth is waiting to drop
Six horizons meet
North is east.
life again
Just when you think your life cannot descend any further, the only thing in this shit world that matters leaves you behind.
Many people say they have nothing, usually in retrospect it can be determined that there is much to be appreciated, yet overlooked. Loved ones, friends, soul mates even, but when in this state of contemplation it is determined that all of these things are absent or false, the drive is lost. Continuing this path with truly nothing is not only hard, but unrewarding, pointless, and even painful.
The question of a soul’s existence, of being and reason, is valid. However, it is fully noticed when something is missing. Maybe it is not a soul, it is possibly non-existent, but the emptiness inside is undeniable.
I once had something inside me, a core of being and drive for life and experience. If there is such a thing as a soul, mine has left me.
Progress
O the suffering
It is as warm as it is cold
I've lost everything
This cannot go on
I'm less of a man, yet more
I'm broken
Life is putrid
It all comes together at abstract angles,
Like shards of broken glass
Each one from a different pane
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