Friday, April 22, 2011
in the trenches of reality, the whole totality of life is beyond the morality of good and evil, it’s easy to characterize whole groups of people or make strawmen out of hypothetical pitiable creatures of society, but all in all each person is in their own phase, mode of being, adding layers and stages to their existence. there is no linear path toward freedom or happiness or wisdom or spirit or being, yet we mesh with others and take their explorations into account when we are developing our own frameworks. all the elusive mysteries telling me that this moment is alive, the world is intelligent. the universe is made of consciousness. the ultimate ground of existence is this kind of energy that turns into self awareness in a sufficiently complex nervous system. we learn self reflexivity from ideal thoughtless void, channeling and rambling our exultation to much excitement. you never learn the perfect truth in taxonomical terms but working within agreed upon relative frameworks we can metaphorically describe our experiential observations and compare the terrain we’ve encountered. cartographers sharing unique maps of the common phenomenon of the solitary depth and interiority of the human condition. life is an open ended experimental process. I saw a guy on telegraph avenue scooping up free boxes of books left out for perusal. he said he lists them on amazon and makes hundreds of dollars a month driving around scooping up these random books. I guess it’s worth his time, that’s a job you could do. infinite approaches to things and it isn’t always necessary to have a plan or follow the conventional path. so we lazy intellectuals tell ourselves to justify our periods of inactivity. my only obligation is to produce, I tell myself, as I scowl about some unfinished project lingering in the back of my mind. it’s good to go where you’re wanted and needed, but you can’t be everywhere at once. stroke of luck that you showed up when you did, the weather finally started to turn nice, and of course you found out who was still around and got to spend some quality time, rambling about the inconsistencies of some conspiracy or other. probing questions and long nights of consideration, half baked thoughts, ideals, vivid dreams. wild speculation. provocative declarations. I don’t know where any of this is going or how to make ends meet, I fold space and curve one-dimensional manifolds over onto themselves and stretch myself so thin I become transparent. an infinite coming of age story in he effort to become a classic character in life, an archetype for the ages! what more is there to aspire to? D-I-Y spirituality, anarchy, choose your own fate and write the script as you go along, just in time.

in the trenches of reality, the whole totality of life is beyond the morality of good and evil, it’s easy to characterize whole groups of people or make strawmen out of hypothetical pitiable creatures of society, but all in all each person is in their own phase, mode of being, adding layers and stages to their existence. there is no linear path toward freedom or happiness or wisdom or spirit or being, yet we mesh with others and take their explorations into account when we are developing our own frameworks.

all the elusive mysteries telling me that this moment is alive, the world is intelligent. the universe is made of consciousness. the ultimate ground of existence is this kind of energy that turns into self awareness in a sufficiently complex nervous system. we learn self reflexivity from ideal thoughtless void, channeling and rambling our exultation to much excitement. you never learn the perfect truth in taxonomical terms but working within agreed upon relative frameworks we can metaphorically describe our experiential observations and compare the terrain we’ve encountered. cartographers sharing unique maps of the common phenomenon of the solitary depth and interiority of the human condition.

life is an open ended experimental process. I saw a guy on telegraph avenue scooping up free boxes of books left out for perusal. he said he lists them on amazon and makes hundreds of dollars a month driving around scooping up these random books. I guess it’s worth his time, that’s a job you could do. infinite approaches to things and it isn’t always necessary to have a plan or follow the conventional path. so we lazy intellectuals tell ourselves to justify our periods of inactivity. my only obligation is to produce, I tell myself, as I scowl about some unfinished project lingering in the back of my mind.

it’s good to go where you’re wanted and needed, but you can’t be everywhere at once. stroke of luck that you showed up when you did, the weather finally started to turn nice, and of course you found out who was still around and got to spend some quality time, rambling about the inconsistencies of some conspiracy or other. probing questions and long nights of consideration, half baked thoughts, ideals, vivid dreams. wild speculation. provocative declarations.

I don’t know where any of this is going or how to make ends meet, I fold space and curve one-dimensional manifolds over onto themselves and stretch myself so thin I become transparent. an infinite coming of age story in he effort to become a classic character in life, an archetype for the ages! what more is there to aspire to? D-I-Y spirituality, anarchy, choose your own fate and write the script as you go along, just in time.

Posted at 11:43 PM