What I've Been Suppressing Lately

The song to go along with this reading:

Lyrics: Hindered by sober restlessness. Submitting 

to the amber crutch. The theme in my aching 

prose. Fantasizing the sight of Manhattan;

that pour of a bitter red being that escapes a 

thin frame. The rebirth of mutual love. The 

slipping on gloves to lay tenderly.

"I'm dying."

- "Is it blissful?"

"It's like a dream."

- "I want to dream."

And so we press on, boats against the current. This is it... this is all that there is. Is that not brutal thought to ponder? To look around and realize that there's nothing else? If life does not inspire fright in a person, I'm doubtful of their connection to its reality. Life is raw, life is harsh. We fight, we struggle, we laugh, we cry- and through it all we try to convince ourselves that we're not empty inside. What futility! What absurd fantasy! Misery! Tragedy! Ephemeral race! So it goes.... so it goes... so it goes...

Vonnegut was correct there. Why ponder? Why wonder when the content of our realities are strewn with such misery and meaninglessness? Pragmatism is the most difficult of positions to strive for, and most of its practitioners are lairs... fucking liars! I hate math as much as the next guy, but at least math leads to a concrete answer. At least it provides some sort of sufficiency. I can understand why many great minds hide behind its alluring completeness. There's nothing complete about the human spirit. It fluctuates. It bends. It evolves. Nuance is not a compelling enough word to describe its contours. 

I will be forever horrified at the words of Solomon: 

What do people gain from all their labors

    at which they toil under the sun?

4 

Generations come and generations go,

    but the earth remains forever.

5 

The sun rises and the sun sets,

    and hurries back to where it rises.

6 

The wind blows to the south

    and turns to the north;

round and round it goes,

    ever returning on its course.

7 

All streams flow into the sea,

    yet the sea is never full.

To the place the streams come from,

    there they return again.

8 

All things are wearisome,

    more than one can say.

The eye never has enough of seeing,

    nor the ear its fill of hearing.

9 

What has been will be again,

    what has been done will be done again;

    there is nothing new under the sun.

10 

Is there anything of which one can say,

    “Look! This is something new”?

It was here already, long ago;

    it was here before our time.

11 

No one remembers the former generations,

    and even those yet to come

will not be remembered

    by those who follow them. 

Fuck these rappers and moguls. Solomon was richer and fucked more bitches than all of them. If Solomon was really the wisest man, then we're all fucked. "Regarding life, the wisest men of all ages have judged alike: it is worthless". Academics chortle at Nietzsche's nihilistic tendencies, but their cynicism is foolish. He was right. Thus is existence. What is knowledge but a a distraction? What is fucking but pleasure? What are relationships but arrogant lies- supposed transcendence of the parameters of reality?  Suffering, suffering, suffering- all permeated... no drenched in lies. 

Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?Why?

I don't even hate idiots anymore. I covet. I covet ignorance. I want to feel again. Why do I say again? I often wonder if I've ever felt at all. I have no memory of sufficiency. There's little beauty in trying. Concession seems like a wiser thing to embrace.

These successful cunts are whores- sucking corporate America's cock. The tits had better dry up soon before we all drown in capitalism's evil. Or fuck it! Let's all drown so those of us who see the evil can scream and curse the fools who perpetuated the status quo. Loving their cars- as sexual as their mistresses- lost in translation, lost in the world. 

Flashing mirages- lacking in substance- lacking in purpose. We individually pack our hearts like cheese- selifan wrapped souls, wracked with sorrow- bubbles of emotion- ready to pop- punctured by the slightest stimulus. 

Escape or fall, stare at our scabs until they turn to scars and their noticeability diminishes. Until they match the complacent cream of our skin- faded memories of things past. Regrets and accidents. Fuck the world, and get fucked in return. Rape victims without therapy. I'm dying and it is quite a dream. 

An Apt Metaphor for My Life

My dad is a cheapskate. He's that guy who keeps the house 5 degrees too cold in the wintertime and 5 degrees too hot in the summertime. Our house is pretty big and my room is the farthest from our fireplace (the one thing that succeeds in properly warming the place up). With this in mind, know that my room is pretty cold at night, and being the scrawny, cold-natured person that I am, I don't adapt well to the temperature of my room.

Well, the other night, I had just gotten ready for bed and was about to hit the hay. On my way to my room, I noticed the fire roaring downstairs. I was shivering a bit and the warmth of the device appealed to me. I was about to walk downstairs to sit by it and warm myself, but then I decided not to. I decided that if I got warm downstairs, when I went back to my room, the cold would just be more unpleasant. With that in mind, I went to my room and curled up with my blankets. After a minute or two I realized how jaded that decision had been. I had passed on a good thing just because I was scared of eventually loosing it.

Then an even broader realization assailed me. I realized that THAT'S HOW I LIVE MY WHOLE LIFE. I pass up on really good things (or prospectively good things) just because I'm afraid of the pain I'll feel after loosing said things. There's so many decisions I've not made, so many cool girls I've never asked out, so many leaps of faith I've been too scared to make. I laid in bed and thought about the past and realized that I've lived my life within the stifling confines of my comfort zone. I need to get out of that- WHERE THE MAGIC HAPPENS!

I'm so fucking bored with my life right now, and I think it's time to step out and be willing to make mistakes. Granted, it was easier to avoid the fireplace that night and simply go to bed, but I missed out on the revitalizing heat the device could give me. If I don't step out of my comfort zone from time to time, I'm never going to feel warmth.

We're All the Same

 

I try to make a conscious effort to talk to all kinds of people. The stereotypes that people seem to fit into are in all reality just malicious lies. There's too much judgement in the world. We all feel emotion the same. We all deal with trials. We all experience great highs and voluminous valleys. Even if two people have seemingly nothing in common, the roots of humanity keep them grounded to the same foundations. Human motivation, though nuanced, contains the same driving forces. We all have the same concepts of family, friendship, love, and acceptance. I try to remember this everyday. I try not judge people or take anything at face value. That is ignorant, and ignorance is one thing that seems far too prevalent in this world. I'll do whatever I can to take away from its influence.

Rating Art? (Including My Top Albums of 2013)

I was at my friend's house yesterday and he had the latest edition of The Rolling Stone. Inside was the magazine's top albums of the year. #1 was "Modern Vampires of the City" by Vampire Weekend. #2 was Kanye's "Yeezus". #3 was Daft Punk's "R.A.M"... etc...etc. The whole time I was reading it, I was smirking. Thinking things like, "Why the fuck is Kanye #2?" and "Why is The National's 'Trouble Will Find Me' not in the top 5?"

And then I realized how stupid I was being...

In my blogging, I've talked a lot about how people try to organize their lives- how they like to put things in boxes in order to make sense of them. Now, that's all well and good, FOR EVERYTHING BUT ART! You can't put art in a box. You just can't. Robin William's sums it up nicely!

The phenomenon that is art is one that cannot be measured. One cannot put boundaries on how much something can move the soul of humanity. It pulls the heartstrings in incomprehensible ways and it's incredibly arrogant to rate it's importance. So my list of the best albums of 2013 is different than the Rolling Stone's, but that's okay... I'm sure a lot of people would disagree with me. Everything moves us in different ways and for different reasons. As long as we understand that our "top tens" are for us, and not necessarily for everyone. Though, it is cool when people share our artistic vices. Anyway, I'm going to try to be less pretentious with how I view music. 

If anyone's interested. Here's my top ten albums of the year:

1. Trouble Will Find Me by The National

2. Nothing Was the Same by Drake

3. Modern Vampires of the City by Vampire Weekend (click the picture)

4. Sunbather by Deafheaven

5. Yeezus by Kanye West

6. Acid Rap by Chance the Rapper

7. Reflektor by Arcade Fire (This Album is so new, I couldn't find the whole thing on youtube, but here's a cool, official music video).

8. Doris by Earl Sweatshirt

9. The Bones of What You Believe by Chvrches

10. Wolf by Tyler the Creator

Status, Contentment, and a Recent Occurrence that I Wish Would Give Me Some Self-Actualization

I often struggle with my status as a writer. I want to get published, and all the rejection I've gotten has been really discouraging. I often think that that discouragement is what undermines my courage in general. There's so many things that we don't do because we're scared of the repercussions. I'm so sick of it... of being scared of regrets that I don't yet bear. Uncertainty can be so crippling. It's often hard to live in the moment in this modern life.

I feel like I'm becoming a robot. That I'm getting too close to the system. Just so you know, I'm just exploiting it to equip myself for life. I have no love for it. I often hate structure- it stifles. I wish it was easier to find success on my own terms. I'm not saying it's impossible, but I'm no Zuckerberg. I'm by no means brilliant. I'm just a smidge above average with enough passion and drive to seem dangerous. 

I was sitting in my friend's car yesterday. We were driving one of the younger members of our literature club home. She was talking about my first book which she had recently finished. I was sort of detached and wasn't listening to her (I'm sort of sick of hearing about that fucking thing). I turned to her and asked her what she really thought of it- if she had enjoyed it. She said that she cried at the end. Apparently it was meaningful to her.

I hope I can find sufficiency in that. Her emotions were moved by it... that's what matters. Despite uncertainties related to my future career, if I can entertain and move people with my writing, it's worthwhile. I need to open my eyes to the significance of that. I need to find contentment in it. I'll be trying... and if I get published, famous, and rich- that'll be cool too. 

Divine Comedy Indeed

Sometimes it feels like this world is all just a big joke. I often talk about the evolution of the Christian God. He starts out with good enough intentions, creating men, giving them gifts and happiness. Then they disobey him and he becomes malevolent, prescribing curses for them and eventually wiping out most of them. Then the world becomes violent and wicked (raising questions about the effectiveness of the flood that killed almost all humanity), and God allies with one people group. This alliance then systematically wipes out several other nations and the Bible becomes virtually every hack-and-slash video game. Violence, gore, war, and gigantic body counts. Luckily God got tired of the whole action movie motif after awhile and "his"tory becomes nice again. We have a bit of a romance story with Jesus, which is nice... it changes the pace of things. Then it all ends with some dark foreshadowing (perhaps a sequel to the Bible was in the works for awhile). Then (looking at history) we have science and more war, and evolution and more suffering, and secular movement and more calamity. Doubt permeates everything we do. Everything's fucked to shit... and yet we all still smile and make the same mistakes. Perhaps God intended this part of history to be a comedy. Every deity needs a giggle after the heavy subject matter of the Bible... God's probably up in heaven somewhere eating popcorn, watching us, a smirk on his face.

Or maybe it's all just bullshit... ya, that's probably it.