No Jane Pasta comes from a box.

chew

when i was younger and first started blowing herb, the body was the scariest thing to me.  the organic machine with its mechanisms...I pump my penis enough and white liquid is emitted...my stomach gets empty and food smells better and i salivate as I chew it and when I swallow my esophagus automatically makes the motions that will move the matter into another pit where acid is released in proportion to the food content and it will be repackaged another number of times and becomes processed into turd which i must deposit instinctively . . . & & & .  walking would be quite the chore because of how aware of the processeses i would become . . . it would feel like will powered wired metal rods propelled by pulleys and released in rhythm.

even now  can be pretty difficult to maintain eye contact with certain people esp. those whom you wouldn't want to know you're high.

i get hyp to the thickness of time.

*Never let a shirt get between you and an adventure.

*Don't do it for someone else.  Do it for you.

*Just because you are lying down doesn't mean that it's relaxing.

*Just because you are quiet doesn't mean that you are not on fire.

*You don't have to make money go around all the time.  The world goes around all the time. . . that's kind of stupid.

*Who cares which emotions are the most valid. Smiling makes you feel good.  Smile like a Gorilla.

*Don't forget:  no matter how oblivious or in denial one is towards it, everybody [every body] has a large stake/stock/social investment in the lubrication and smooth operating and functioning of this [this] machine.  Those with excessive money, perpetual smirks and hard-ons are particularly suspicious.

*TV ruined your life.  Don't say it didn't.  It did.

*Play the game.  Maintain the illusion.  Just know that you are doing such a thing and commit to playing a good game with objective illusions.

*Listen to a complete, objectionable, distasteful-to-your-own-glands stranger.  As you are listening, imagine that it is in fact you who is that person speaking to an alternate identity you are passively maintaining about things you know and think but didn't know or think you knew or thought.

*Do not believe in anybody who poses as any sort of religious/spiritual elite, esp. who advocates theirselves as such.  The spiritually elite would not need to put on a performance to convince anyone, least of all theirselves.  Mother Teresa was a sham & every TVangelist wants to be a President or live like one.  Even Gandhi was a pervert.

*Imagine a race lacking genitals.  Capitalism dies.

goklm - The Mean Sauce Of Being Alive

A man is crawling toward a window wall while 3 stories up.  He anoints himself with heavenly blossoms as he whispers sweet nothings into the wind.  He face the outside, in a certain direction, North East.  He kneels as if to whisper a sweet nothing prayer into the wind of his own armpit willow wheel.  He caresses with his nostril the empty void that is the air one bubble of nostril at a time.  He bows holy prostrate and removes a book from his cloak.  He produces a book of scriptures and kneeling and erect he closes his eyes as to pull himself to a inner horizon and make holy love to word-mules and chants a sweet private nimble humble mumble in the name of Eggs-caviar.  Like the book, he produces his member and begins arousing himself..in the name of Omni-tantric-Hinjab-Yoni-owning-dali-Leemra ski skank.

the synthesis of energy, unaware i was, that it was flowing through me
...i am neither here nor there or me

i was flowing through it it was i

i was not it

not that there was or wasn't

but there was and there wasn't and then there was and there wasn't and wasn't there was there . . ?

it had proved more seamless if he considered himself a camera-projector or a football. 

an electric breath shuddered:  it is
                                                the same lightning voice

heard the silence of what wasn't.

his mind felt clearer than usual

as he laid faced down into
the grass
he thought:
                 'this too shall pass'

I never want to be what I'm doing.

--------------

He's going to be a burnt out brainiac for life.

--------------

We have a reference point, but it's invisible.

the woman with the cock-eyed is staring at me . . . or is she?

----------

more than ever i have become the theatre

----------

it's hardly the time to notice these things

----------

a million suns burning
and dying
inside your body
you hold your belly
to touch the bottom
of your breath
as you put
out i'm imagining
its whirlwind fueling
the chaos-rip on
the inside that burns you
on the outside





your smile is a mystery
the eyes that clench throat

i can see your cold
underneath
you're dark cloak

As I was coming I thought of the universality of my cock.

Now that we're not together we go out on more dates.

i am your pet goldfish
witness collisions with the walls you have provided

my water is in your air

no
you can't
stay
up
all
night

you must
learn
the
meaning
of mourning

and seperation
anxiety

all thoughts dissipate when i ejaculate valve empty
and open to new growth and secretions which
will with time build up and become once again too much
for the space it occupies

where does my mind GO in the moment of the big O

don't mix.

Decisions and  I

why must life be the bloodsouporgy of mindcumbleedings?

bloggerdashboardconfessional

The strange buzzings contained in schulls on unifying platform travelling.  Like when you see a beautiful woman and can't take your eyes from her taht is to say misdirect your gaze and you suspect your fly is low but you can't be quite sure so your thoughts gravitate to the state of the fly and do you now look quite different because or do you not look like you are thinking about checking your fly.

soap boxing Happy Washing!

1.  my aspirations in the world are to structure my memory formation as in the fashion of rebekkah blakk's first verse in friday and be to society what is an aborted fetus

2.  when the bed-headed poet sleeps no one can hear his poem
except those that exist as well in his dreams

3.  when one can be completely alone with the other, then, my friends, we may have found peace

to have a hole in the whole may we be holy

how much of an extension of your personality is your room?


how much space can you contain your self in out side of your self?

somebody is better than someone sometimes

wwwwaaaavvvveeee wwwaaavvveee wwaavvee wave wwaavvee wwwaaavvveee wwwwaaaavvvveeee

silver and gold

It is always a strange sensation when one feels oneself 'falling out of love' with a friend.  Things that were overlooked in the past in favor of positive aspects can no longer be ignored.  It happens gradually, yet one can feel oneself coming to the resolution day by day until all that is seen is the raw, naked human for all of its predictable tendencies and nuances.

I used to have the naive perception that I might hang on to all of my good friends well into my late life.  As I am growing older, a quarter century, just about, I come to realize that I need fewer and fewer friends, and that I will continuously be disappointed by others directly or indirectly.

These days my focus has been furthermore on self-cultivation rather than on friendship.  I can now truly say that I only have a handful of confidant friends:  those that I can speak to in full disclosure and have similar desires for personal progress in life.

ET

Katy Perry + Kanye new video: counted 23 cuts between 3:50 and 3:54.
My interpretation reveals a narrative about a Zordon-like Kanye who propels Katy into an outerspace mission for meaningless android sex and the scavenging of forgotten designer goods [vogue glasses] before making us slightly more comfortable with a posthuman existence as techno-animal (a Katy Perry with sexualized beast-rear) entities.

So far, this week's foray into pop-culture music videos has revealed to me disturbing undertones of pedophelia [Ark Productions], beastiality and techno-sex.

Let's keep this jet flying.

i recharge my ipod every night

they hide behind their sunglasses in night
they want you to believe they were born cool
that they were just the right degree of self aware since first breath
and only fell down stairs when people weren't looking

they value their two cents at a round dollar
and flock to pens with ensured traffic and eaten grass

they walk out of doors in slow motions
in the rise-and-descent of their tidal strut
they are in their own video
to be watched and fleeting sense of importance prevails a moment more...

they'll check store windows to see if they are still there
that there is no witness to the public private self examination

but they might need a hand
to navigate the backward steps in time
broken-vase-growing-together-again
footsteps of the hallways of their life
with no maps to confirm that, indeed, some
one  had been here before

the melted snows ashcan offerings

the selfish show of the subway passengers

i'm breathing in your film

my design does not fit in your matrix

i do not hide any ulterior intentions in my smile

you would rather stay inside than to not fake it

the strings holding up your mask are apparent

nobody commits to the nubile transient

for i'm making my way to my own funeral

looking for invitees to heed the procession

a butterfly's wings is enough need for evidence

that it can never quite be a possession

it's the accident that's your intention

warning you can't misstep without direction

When I dispose of my semen I have a feeling that I just discarded some part of my self and gave it to the wind.  I think of all the energy contained within that secretion and how it might affect the course of my life; my momentary constructions of personality.

When the spasm hits the raw, vacant air, I think of how cheap the thrill came, that I once again pleased my self.  A substance that was me, that was mine, is wasted . . . I view the lady in the window and I connect with to fantasy without victim.

When I'm verbally ruminating about the complexities and
uncertainties about existence and reality,
it's quite clarifying when somebody chimes in and proclaims
"It's QUANTUM PHYSICS!"

my mind has a mind of its own

you are no one

one way to do it

is to give a lighter with enough gas to only work after it has been struck many times, the friction you created through growing frustration and the heat of your hand

use these calculations to catch the bus six minutes earlier tomorrow

today is the yesterday of tomorrow
today is the tomorrow of yesterday



if you don't go to sleep today is your tomorrow my today or my today yesterday

..and I did it with the grapefruit soap thinking of you ...

Today I spent time with people who weren't there.  I talked to them.

the sweetest shit I've watched recently

Phantom of Liberty  - Luis Bunuel 
Walking With Cavemen  - BBC Documentary
The Incident at Loch Ness - Herzog
To Die For - Gus Van Sant
Plan 9 From Outer Space - Ed Wood Jr.


These all make for wonderful cinematic experiences.

my first memories of thought

regarded God, Death and Morality

heavy for a 4 year old

Is it Medicine or Social Skill?

Am I in love?

Or is this temporary selfish convenience.

I wonder what Sartre would say...

One night an ethereal, shamanic spirit visited me in my dreams and pulled a rotting, fungal-flowered, parasitic organ from my guts

and shoved it in my face saying "Do you want to keep this inside of you?"

My life was never the same again.

The Lid

Even though I don't hold high expectations from others I never fail to be disappointed by them.

It bothers me that there are things about my best friends that bother me.

Then again, there are a lot of things about myself that bother me, and I never fail to be disappointed by myself.

We all must work together to maintain a healthy degree of happiness.

Yet, I hurt others in indirect ways.  I feel like I have very little control over this.  In fact, from the earliest age + memories I can remember I have had a major guilt complex.  I over-analyze every situation.  Where others can see from the immediate vantage point of the self, I extend myself to impossible viewpoints; where others see a corner, I see the 3 sides it connects,; the 7 other points and emerge to the realization that there are indeed six sides and of course the cube exists in a plain of reality comprised of air, which is comprised of molecules....


***

"Please don't lose the lid
it's necessary socially
for helping out
with dinner."

-greenthink

***

nutshells

+

Consider the existence of the Koala:  It awakes to spend some time eating plants that are very low in nutritional value and poisonous to most of the Earth's species.  Living on this low nutritional diet it has a slow metabolic rate and sleeps 3/4 of the day.

It has little competition and little excitement.

It has carved out an evolutionary niche.

I will find out more about Koalas and post here.

delorean

Does anybody ever have fantasies about rewinding into the past and making all sorts of decisions based on what you think would make you content in the present?

I do.


I have since I was a child.  When I was a child though, the fantasies were about going back in time and knowing how to impress the more popular kids in my class (the people I would try to be friends with but would just make fun of me).

Now my fantasies involve going back in the past and making better decisions, especially regarding education, career and finances.


If I could do that, I would have thousands right now and be in the career of my choice, being creative every day.

These fantasies are, however, very useless, unless you take the desired outcomes and make them real-life goals for the future.

This is what I'm doing now.  Years wasted make it incumbent to not continue that pattern.

threats to the seated self

A quote by Why? from the last verse on Apt. A Pt. 1 on cLOUDDEAD's nebulous self-titled album.

Why?  Because that verse captures my personhood:

                     "i fall asleep hoping tomorrow tastes like poems and honeysuckle.
                      i move slow 'cause the sky looks bluer when you fuck the order of the day
                      or the way the shelves were meant to fit."

Actually, I have always related to most of Yoni Wolf's lyrical content.  He manages to express, in very poetic terms, the minutia of a human existence.  When I listen to what he says it normally describes things that I feel to a tee.  The song 'Rubber Traits' for example.  He is sort of like that good friend you have who is utterly naked about his own faults and is comfortable exposing them to you for exploratory purposes.

                                                 *****      ******      *****

Threats to the seated self:  ruminations on existence.

This is my way of having an organized sort of diary to keep track of my thoughts and having it available to the public while maintaining a level of anonymity.  

I will try to be selective and provide original tidbits and insight into whatever is relevant.

I will also try to include at least one film review/recommendation per week (or just when I feel like it).

I certainly invite comments and feedback, criticisms and questions.

I think that is all.