The Invisible Hand Exists Collectively
A catalogue of words, mostly mine, some not.
Be open to talk about things comfortable and uncomfortable
Laugh much about the absurdities of life
Wonder much about the mysteries of life
Explore your sexuality to the fullest
Don't be afraid to 'not agree' with the other
Explore and fulfil your individual passions
Be aware that the 'honeymoon' period may end
Be aware that a 'profoundly deep and everlasting connection' may begin
What the heck is happening? Oh, not much. Shit though, look at the mouse over there, what a stinker. He has it good.
Beer and the stars...mmm couldn't ask for more, yet there is.
Dear Readers,
An honest dialogue with the self is a beautiful thing. When there is pain it will seek to heal. One must embrace the pain or else it will remain terrifying.
“Dialogue with others is often empty and mind numbing, it’s sometimes intellectually stimulating (usually when I’m drunk) and rarely emotionally charged. I do admit that it’s hard for me to express my true emotions as I will either seem uneasy and nervous or falsely detached and cold. This is an indication that I have yet to face myself entirely.”
Never give up on yourself, even when you feel like shit. You’re allowed to feel like shit.
If you have nothing to live for and can’t stand the world around you - you have nothing to lose. Take a risk and piss people off; make the world a better place.
When I write I like to illustrate contrast and employ opposites, it's a reflection of how I see the world from as many angles as I can handle.
My passion is to connect to Life in every way possible, to embrace the whole spectrum of experience.
When I write my tendancy is to let my mind flow using unfamiliar associations to show that life can be thought of in any way that one sees it. It is a constant and neverending creation of relationships.
I am currently an Astrophysicist by day and lover any other time.
Goal for my 30s - awakening my inner shaman buddha jesus mohammed krishna.
(parenthesis indicate comments added afterwards not included in the original dialogue)
D:
The Origin of "God"
"In the beginning there was nothing, then the nothing became aware that it was nothing and became SOMETHING." Hmm..You are nothing, but with awareness arises something. Sounds kind of neat, aye? Whoa nelly.
Up above
Aliens hover
Making home movies
For the folks back home
If approached with a closed-mind, all is worthless.
Don't get caught up in illustrated illusions.
See for what is, not for what self wants to be.
And finally prepare to step inside, so...
Clear the mind of itself.
101 worst things that could happen to you
1. You ate a rock, and it was big
2. You accidently burn an X in your head
3. While lighting a cig you catch fire
4. A paper cut
5. You have to sell your liver to support your family
6. You're buried alive
7. You have to eat your best friend
8. you pick your nose too hard and pull out your brain
9. you run head first into a spiked metal wall
10. you eat bad shrooms
11. you are misidentified as target for castration by an angry wife out for revenge
If I was on an island with every commodity at my disposal, what would my role in the community be? Point, work, build? To what end? No. Live, enjoy, create. Where do I see myself in this community of fellows? On a hill overlooking it all.
How does one make it in the world as a modern day shaman? Where do I go? Refuge. Retreat -> Emerge …to build the light. Each one holds the light. Giving… passing the torch… I need a flame to pass.
I’m in the city of lore
where the ‘Great Beast’ once roamed.
There stood a blazing time
where no water could be found but only overflowing foundations fountains of men’s blood.
Now a city of wankers,
too blended to be any good,
too busy to progress.
It’s cool and everyone looks for the truth in your eyes.
Shape-shifting spies in the land of conspiracy and deceit.
They can stand everything but themselves
for inside is a bomb waiting to explode into love, hate, and endless confusion.
In a little place past Piccadilly lies a Red Lion with golden jewelled walls created with elegant reflections, outpouring with streams of Amber.
There still lies the skeleton of once was.
Only gloss puts on a new skin to revitalise the landscape.
Oxford Circus detour:
A degenerate new beginning with no sense of soil breeds high fashion and discontented protestors.
What a hokey story this is, check it out...so this guy was engaged this chick right, but then he found out that she's been whoring around and got pregnant, so he decides to call off the engagement. but then that night he has a dream with some wierd voice calling itself "the lord" telling him that its this guy lord's baby and he needs to call this baby Jesus...so for some reason he changes his mind and marries the chick anyways and adopts the son even though its some other guy's who doesn't even pay child support.
What to say about the mysterious hooded guitar man? Connected to the electricity of his insides, pulsating and moving through his fingers, feeling for that something to feel, the movement of sound and vibration.
Brief: See if you can write about food in a way that makes the reader want to eat. It's important as writers to be able to invoke passion for the subject.
Coming to terms with who I am
What I am ever-changing to be
What is that?
Coming to terms with my own mortality and at the same time with the
eternity of my being, my core
I can no longer hide behind insecurities of my past
but it doesn't mean that they are dead for good
Especially at this moment where I feel slightly vulnerable and uncertain
I am riding in and sailing above the dark tunnel at the same time
I just saw the saddest guy in the world… overweight, holding his small penis in bed asleep. Keyboard next to his balls. He looked like he had man boobs but I think it was just stomach fat. Not even funny, just put my face into a flabberghasted frown with a bit of anguish.
"I" is not truth, not the I as a reference, but the general I of the self. So there is no I.
It just is. Just like the well-known phrase, "let it be."
Credit for this manifestation of words belongs to all.
Pretension leaks just from the fact that this is being read. But "I" have to do something, and this is what I have to give because I am grateful for what all has given to me.
To be aware of a very possible mass extinction of the human species brought on by the human species makes me sick to my stomach. Going down, down, killing ourselves because we are controlled by money and false power. False power destroys us. I stare into the world as though it were my last viewing. My only reason to live is for the beauty in all. Beauty in destruction? Perhaps so, but it should not be so unconscious as it is. Unconscious destruction for the sake of ego preservation is not beauty.
>>>>HI<<<<
The tide pulled me under and I was forced to live with some underwater moss gnomes. Now they have finally let me go. I came out realizing that my webpage needs to be updated badly. But for now all I have done is a picture page with some pictures from England. enjoy.
…Ah, to be decedent and uncontrolled. The forces overcome my Will to hold my cravings back. What is this craving but a craving for regress and stagnation? This is the worst kind of personal sin. A personal sin so permeated world-wide with sinners laughing the the face of those that cannot even feed their family. Progress is not defined in terms of technicalities, true progress must be gauged by the greater whole, how it benefits all, not solely by the stick of business and economy. So my quest for healing myself turns into healing the world.
After days of eating lunches in solitude at the newly discovered Fresh Choice in Capitola and (partly) working on my thesis, I took an opportunity to hang out with a couple of my dearest friends (while still working on my thesis). In this time I was able to see more fully my condition. “Plots, plots, plots, plots, what the fuck does it all mean? Nothing, really. What? The fuck I care! Shut up please (with a smile). Damn, I'm not violent, but I have the urge to smash your head against a window and watch the glass shatter. I don't want to hurt you, but I can still imagine it can't I?
"Only a handful of people define their talents prior to acquiring their driver's licenses; few still find themselves in an environment supportive of their aspirations; and even fewer enjoy liberal access to the tools and training necessary for the cultivation of their possible genius. Yet we often compare ourselves with this fortunate few when judging our own abilities.
What do people want? Happiness? Health? Family? Security? What about the spaces in between? Is it mostly to get the means to live and then wasting away in front of the T.V. to forget about it all?
Of all writings I love only that which is written with blood. Write with blood: and you will discover that blood is spirit.
It is not an easy thing to understand unfamiliar blood: I hate the reading idler.
He who knows the reader, does nothing further for the reader. Another century of readers - and spirit itself will stink.
That everyone can learn to read will ruin in the long run not only writing, but thinking too.
Once spirit was God, then it became man, and now it is even becoming mob.