The Invisible Hand Exists Collectively
A catalogue of words, mostly mine, some not.
I'm an atheist
I don't believe in god
I have compassion for others
I am empathic
I feel love
I feel passion
I feel wonder
I feel emotion
I question because I am curious to learn about the universe I live in
I question because I am curious to learn about myself
I am fallible
I make mistakes
I want to grow from my experiences
I don't shy away from uncomfortable truths
I feel pain and despair
I've felt broken
I've opened myself to trust in myself
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.
Beer and the stars...mmm couldn't ask for more, yet there is.
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.
If I had a choice, no one would get hurt in the matter.
But in trying to prevent any added stress, I have taken it all upon myself.
It's not going to be my choice how other people react.
And it's not in my control that people can't magically see my point of view and understand my feelings.
But I will try my damnest to do it with love and compassion.
But even so, it can't stop the flood of emotions that might rip a person apart from the inside.
I only hope that everyone can find themselves on the other side, grateful for what has been gained.
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.”
A partner who strives till Death, who lives with a passion and calmness of pushing themselves to the limit. Someone who recognizes that the Map is not the Territory. Someone who won’t let Death take them easily.
I hate everyone and everything. I just want to be alone. I’m not depressed, I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. If you saw me writing this in a coffee shop you’d think I might be a nice girl, and you would be right. I am a nice fucking girl, but with all the bullshit in the world sometimes you can’t help but think, “bloody hell.” I’m just as guilty as anyone to have created as much shit as you.
Every day I uncover something new.
Every day I've been 'coming to terms' with things.
I'm going to start to loathe that phrase soon.
I feel like I've been keeping myself from a part of my womanhood.
Whatever that means.
I've been opening up.
Through art, finding unsuspecting beauty through photography, constructing abstract images still foreign to the front lines of my waking consciousness.
Innocence never was
Innocence can always be
Manipulating desire
Unending love
Tied to the poles
Untainted peach stained by the most sorid piece
A soul is born of malicious peace hugging tree wrath
An angle born with devil’s eyes
A devil born with angel’s eyes
Look into this dark black heart and see your white, shining, ecstatic youth
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.
The apocalypse, the great spiritual awakening, timewave zero, the winter solstice. Those are the various different events attributed to 21 December 2012. They are so varied, that the only conclusion I can come is that none will happen (except the winter solstice which is a pretty established event that takes place every year).
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?
The mirror has not yet been shattered. Foggy now that my own breath has been cast upon it. Tainted as it has always been. I live with it and gladly abide. Next level.
What does it mean when I like someone and am attracted to them?
I would like to explore further, to open myself to a uniqueness never experienced before, to learn from their being.
That's about it.
"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.
I don't believe in anything. I don't believe that God exists, I don't even believe that God doesn't exist. What's the point of talking of belief (or lack of belief) in something that you can't prove exists? I'll just keep myself out of that resolveless conversation.
I just want to live a life based on compassion, empathy, contemplation, and openess. What else do you need to lead a fullfilling life?
We weren't aware that we didn't exist before we lived, so what does it matter that we won't be aware of our own self when we die?
Everyone has their own agenda even when it comes from the heart. STOP LISTENING TO EVERYONE AND LOOK INSIDE. To the source, the light, the force that moves the Universe.
[although revisiting this 10 years so or after I have written this I would add that you should also constantly question yourself as well or else you'll end up delusional and think you're Jesus or that you're in contact with multidimensional aliens]
Did you know that with all the money spent on “progress,” research to explore the universe, nature , our bodies, our composition, we are still infinitely ignorant? The more we come to know, the more questions and/or problems arise. The more we strive for progress, the more we have to find out about nature in order to correct the problems we create. This is mindless progress so I call it destruction. How do we fix ourselves?
I stood there waiting, frozen in the semi-frozen food isle. Semi-skimmed or whole? I really didn't care. What am I waiting for? Probably something. I hope something, or else I could be in just the wrong place. Excuse me, pardon me, I'm just in the way. "It's not my fault that they ran out of soy milk, I'm a paying cusomter damnit!" It's going to be ok. It was worth the wait. I like doing weird things like standing in the middle of grocery stores for extended periods of time.
Dear Readers,
Magnificently crafted stone in the honour of justice.
On a godly plane with intricate detail and grandeur delight.
Now I must obey the law and depart due to the facts presented to me.
I obey because I should of known what I was getting into.
Bye, bye, birdie.
The backdoor men live underground
lives not tied to any wives and fucking the hives.
Eighty Hispanics surround twenty white men.
The horns of the mariachis overwhelm, their eyes penetrate.
Two miles ahead lie high priced upper-middle class homes, a starbucks, two blocks down another starbucks.
I feel claustrophobic in my mother’s Sun Valley home.
I am in the heart of an industrial heaven. Grey surrounds my peripheral and the smokey wastes of progress saturate the air.
I want to leave the house, but its like moving in molasses.
Today I felt how an orgasm is like a supernova. Inside reactions are taking place. Things are heating up and pressure builds on the inside. When a balance of forces can no longer be sustained, the core contracts and then releases energy in a big burst.
After the initial burst there is then an afterglow. The core is no longer fusing energy.
Unlike a dead star the human regenerates and rebuilds so that one is able to burst and die again. It's reliving a cosmic wonder on a human scale.
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.
Is there no relief in life?
Vice emerges in search of relief.
Necessities taken beyond necessity.
Attachment to a vice takes the focus away from oneself naked.
He had the night of his life. She fucked him so hard that it was extremely hard for him not to cum right away, but she didn’t mind. That’s exactly what she wanted. She took pleasure in being able to invoke such godly sensations in someone she had just met, it raised her self-esteem and of course, she had self-image issues. She used every one-night stand as a therapy session that was usually short-lived. She never really gave herself the chance to recover from the break-up of her seven-year relationship, the only relationship she’d ever had.
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.
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.