my mom asked me if i learned anything reading the buddha book today. exactly what i wanted to have happen. i thought about it. how we could share our experiences reading. and then i could not remember so i treated her suboptimally. my creation, and i tore it down. i had envisioned such greatness, yet performed so weak. she gave me a book by sri aurobindo. i acted like i didn’t want it. and at the time, i thought, i have so much to read, yet, what the fuck am i doing, oh yeah, rereading what the buddha taught. go eat a sandwich. and pull your head out of your ass.

i will.

in the tree. reading, rereading, what the buddha taught. a tetragramation. i learned not to be attached, to the good, to the bad. lust no more. i lie in truth. it’s shit like that in the buddha book that has you thinking, wait, is this guy an asshole, or just really bad at word choice. foul your mouth. fowl your mouth. let’s see that make it in the audio edition.

am i thinking?

the thinker is in the thought. don’t get attached. i figured out that in yoga, you can move your mind out of your head. to a certain muscle, that doesn’t ramble so incessantly. the brain is noisy chatter.

do you ever get in those moods where you just hate yourself. like you can see yourself talking on the phone, about the weather, instead of just flowing, you are hyperconscious. observing via the ears and the mind. enabling you to perceive such oddities. like why did i say that. or the shit i did was so boring. it felt tasked, rehearsed, no body, no soul, monogroan, with no money to spend. going against the grain of your morals and breaking all vows. i’m weak. i changed to a smile at the end. i let that shine through.

sauce.

thank you jesus. thank you lord.

love songs. and being okay with just living.

i am a fool to think anything would change. i am always solving the same problem, but not quite, because it keeps coming back. different shapes and forms, but the same underlying formations and choreography. patience. swallow a pill. hope for the best.

some people are lost. others are explorers.

you hate me, but that’s okay, because i hate you too. it’s okay because it’s mutual and equal. and instead of throwing punches or making love, let’s just leave it at that.

staring out the window. when was the last time you have done that? do you remember the stages of your life anymore? do you remember the audience? the script? oh no, it’s only about now, and even in my experience there has always been the pervasive influence of ignorance. it reigns supreme. fuck you. clean up your shit. get your life together. i am god. the untouchable. the always has been perfect and never will be nothing. let me lean on you a little more to help you remember that. then i will change the rules so frequently that you can never get it right, or let me just raise my standards right before judging you, because you SHOULD be putting out more.

how about just putting out. for the love of god save me here. and even though i say i don’t need it, i like you. and more than that, i just like liking you. the metacrisis. so like me back, just a little, even if i am demanding and have nothing better to do than put my energy your way. yes, i know it is no way to win, but i have no other.

two things intertwined, but like i said when we began, it is always the same problem. every instance is of object. perhaps the key is to find the core functions and abandon the rest. and yes, i am correct. if you can understand this, you can understand everything. as a whole and as individuals.

again i want to run away and bury myself in a hole. or better yet have a kick ass cabin in the woods with a well stocked library, a cute girl and the wilderness. fuck society, or more what we call society today. fuck government and their raping and pillaging with taxes and horribly contrived legislation. fuck other people that can go to a farming lecture, “learn” how to do it, and then sit on their ass and not do shit. and most importantly, fuck me for caring.

listen carefully, you may just hear my heart breaking. the screams of little children as they see this black thing get run over for the thousandth time. the hod prod in the eyeball. the scalding of still living flesh. the final nail in the coffin before the right one could come and save me. i did it. i killed myself. and had the courage to never rise again. to sink into the abyss. to love nothing with all my soul. complete surrender.

only you would think of something like that. and want to share it. thanks for the modesty. i’ve never done it, so i wouldn’t know.

plain and simple: i don’t have time for poverty.

i’ve been doing a bit of reading. surprise suprise.

Consequently, those who love freedom above all consistently avoid the tasks that threaten to put yet a chain round their neck, knowing that such tasks would teach them, regardless of their role—either master or slave—that they are not free.

it’s saturday night and all my usb ports are taken.

“A free man?—There is no such thing! All men are slaves; some, slaves of money; some, of chance; others are forced, either by mass opinion, or the threatening law, to act against their nature.” (Hecabe ₁ to Agamemnon. Euripides, Hecabe 864).

“Deny me your gifts, goddess!” For these seem to them to be those of bondage. And they, loving freedom, cling to serene simplicity which knows few bonds.

i gotta share this on facebook so i get cred. the lemma. how long has this been going on? i’m done.

i wish you liked me more than i like you. the same thing all over again.

losing all hope is freedom. just don’t become addicted. die every day. pretty soon you will be balanced. haunted.

one aspect is terrified of death. the other thinks it’s tragic it isn’t. statistically you’re crazy. wake up as someone else. illusion of fact. deception of meaning. completely gone.

new clothes can do a lot for you. no.