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[Nov. 23rd, 2009|10:28 am] |
Beamingly bright smiles But my liver is failing I'm still thirsty though |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 20th, 2009|10:18 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Jack Johnson - Sitting, Waiting, Wishing | ] | There's so many cute girls everywhere, but chemicals, I find, are preferable. I was in the Queen's Head Pub in Harvard Square with my dad. He bought me 3 beers. There was this gorgeous girl with glasses and the bartender was really cute. But I was really buzzed. Each time I went into the bathroom I fell in love with my reflection again and again, and had to peel myself away. I have this worry that I've merely tied my therapist around my finger, and he's filled a slot of narcisstic suply, or I'm merely worried that that's the case. Eternity becomes questionable. Present becomes memory. Time becomes gone. Space becomes small. All becomes none. And it all comes back to now.
For if the unobservable can be said to be potentially true, then certainly the observable must be just as potentially false. Philosophically, of course, it all eventually flows to nihilism, and the question of suicide. However the certainty of howling happiness is the key, in my opinion. How can this be insane to think this way. How can this not be the consensus? Am I just the insane one looking at the world, or is the world indeed insane? Certainly my solipism cannot be misguided - for it is the only one thing I can know (arguably, 'we' can know).
I am armed against their judging looks, armed to the teeth with ideas - Socrates is there to remind me of what I don't know, Descartes, reminding me of what I do know, Tesla showing me what to learn, Nietzsche telling me why to learn, Whitman teaching me how to be happy. Then there's those that show me I can laugh. And finally - the spice extends life, the spice expands consciousness.
Do you know who does God's work? I'll tell you. It's the homeless bottle and can collectors, with recycled plastic bags, attached to a recycled bicycle, leaving a carbon footprint of less than zero, cleaning the surfaces of our human dams our technologically designed cell walls. It's not the priests, it's not the bishops, or the pope. It's the trash picker, the hobo, the hermit, the pariah, the moment's observer. No, it's the dying organism giving life to the dying organism that gives life. It's the chain, it's the loop or the ring. It's doctor and the nurse, the innocent and the criminals alike.
Take it away Walt.
YOU felons on trial in courts; You convicts in prison-cells—you sentenced assassins, chain’d and hand-cuff’d with iron; Who am I, too, that I am not on trial, or in prison? Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain’d with iron, or my ankles with iron?
You prostitutes flaunting over the trottoirs, or obscene in your rooms, Who am I, that I should call you more obscene than myself?
O culpable! I acknowledge—I exposé! (O admirers! praise not me! compliment not me! you make me wince, I see what you do not—I know what you do not.)
Inside these breast-bones I lie smutch’d and choked; Beneath this face that appears so impassive, hell’s tides continually run; Lusts and wickedness are acceptable to me; I walk with delinquents with passionate love; I feel I am of them—I belong to those convicts and prostitutes myself, And henceforth I will not deny them—for how can I deny myself? |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 19th, 2009|11:14 pm] |
Keeping things Whole, Mark Strand
In a field I am the absence of field. This is always the case. Wherever I am I am what is missing.
When I walk I part the air and always the air moves in to fill the spaces where my body's been.
We all have reasons for moving. I move to keep things whole |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 14th, 2009|09:47 pm] |
I had amazing dreams last night. There was a beautiful pool of turquoise water, set against a tall tree'd forest, that seemed so small from my height. The image is burnt into my retinas like a memory.
At, welcome Neo - as you no doubt have guessed, I am Morpheus.
It's an honor to meet you.
No, the honor is mine, please, come, sit.
I imagine that right now, you're feeling a bit like Alice... tumbling down the rabbit hole? Hmm?
You could say that.
You have the look of a man who accepts what he sees because he is expecting to wake up, Ironically this is not far from the truth. Tell me, do you believe in fate, Neo?
No.
Why not?
Because I don't like the idea that I'm not in control of my life.
I know exactly what you mean. Let me tell you why you're here. You're here, because you know something, what you know you can't explain, but you feel it, you've felt it your entire life - that there's something wrong with the world, you don't know what it is, but it's there - like a splinter in your brain, driving you mad. It is this feeling that has brought you to me. Do you know what it is that I am talking about? |
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| Geek entry: Storm Deck |
[Nov. 14th, 2009|05:31 pm] |
Lands 5x Forest 5x Island 4x Breeding Pool 14x Total Artifacts 4x Sapphire Medallion (only have 1 right now, and I'm proxying the others)
Everything Else Green: 4x Manamorphose 3x Utopia Sprawl 3x Birds of Paradise 3x Fertile Ground 2x Eternal Witness 1x Hunting Pack 16x Cards Blue: 4x Frantic Search 4x Snap 4x Cloud of Faeries 4x Mind's Desire 3x Merchant Scroll 2x Mystic Speculation 1x Intuition 1x Time Spiral 1x Cunning Wish 24x Cards
Black: 2x Tendrils of Agony
Basic idea is to get 9 spells and a Tendrils of agony played in one turn, usually by casting up to 4 - 6 spells, combined with a Mind's Desire to storm through 3 more spells and pulling another Mind's Desire or a Tendrils. I can also get out a quick stormed Hunting Pack to swing with multiple 4/4s for the win. Biggest issue the deck has is mana stability before it goes off, as well as determining (in the event of a nonsure win) when I can go off with the deck and still win. I generate quick mana with the combination of Utopia Sprawls, Fertile Ground, and Sapphire Medallion and Snap/Cloud/Frantic Search, I can cast a cloud, for extra mana, then snap it, then cast it again for 3 spells, and lots of mana, and using Frantic Search to dig through the deck.
I have some other ideas for cards that would go in like Sins of the Past, Gifts Ungiven, Fact or Fiction, Long Term Plans, Accumulated Knowledge, or Peer Through Depths, they'd be one each, or 4 for the Accumulated Knowledge, for obvious reasons. Also changing the number of cards in the deck up or down is a possibility. I could also change the win condition to Brain Freeze, which might work better - but the problem being that if it's not high enough of a storm (19 storm count + brain freeze) it'll be useless, the obvious advantage being that I can Merchant Scroll for a Brain Freeze. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|12:15 pm] |
What am I thinking, what am I doing, what am I saying? Oh I must have lost myself somewhere along the way. Combining obsessions of various proportions Addictions-Sustaining-Temporal-Expansioning I must have lost myself somewhere along the way. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 8th, 2009|05:10 pm] |
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain And you are young and life is long and there is time to kill today And then one day you find ten years have got behind you No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it's sinking Racing around to come up behind you again The sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say
Home, home again I like to be here when I can And when I come home cold and tired It’s good to warm my bones beside the fire Far away across the field The tolling of the iron bell Calls the faithful to their knees To hear the softly spoken magic spells.
I can't wait to be uncomfortably high tomorrow. This time tomorrow, I'll be living in my head. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 8th, 2009|10:37 am] |
So there's this game, Audiosurf.
It looks INCREDIBLE.
But, it never works when I download the demo from Steam. Obviously, the full version would work. But I dunno if its replayability is at a level I like.
http://www.metacafe.com/watch/1035377/audio_surf_satisfaction/
Turn your sound on. It's like omg wow amazing super cool awesome. Which means it's really good.
I can't wait to be elevated tomorrow morning. I'm so excited I feel myself leaping out of my skin. But when it happens I'll just be calmmmmmm. Hopefully it's not too cold so I can sit on something at The Trails. I've got to think about acceleration when it comes to magnets so I can solve what I've dubbed "the gravity weakness problem" without Lisa Randall's two brane thingy. Which I suppose works with math and stuff, but since the graviton hasn't been observed yet it's quite a thing. All the forces have a messenger particle, but if.......... yeah. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 7th, 2009|04:15 pm] |
So here's my new black deck, which requires the destruction of my black reanimator deck, but it's more fun:
13x Swamp 3x Cabal Coffers
4x Chrome Mox 3x Sol Ring 2x Ivory Tower 1x Spellbook
2x Necropotence 1x Yawgmoth's Will 4x Dark Ritual 4x Demonic Tutor 2x Laquatus's Champion 4x Hypnotic Specter 3x Promise of Power 2x Terror 3x Hymn to Tourach 2x Loxodon Warhammer 3x Urza's Bauble 4x Consume Spirit
I ordered 2 Necroplasms with store credit from Magic Arsenal, I'm not certain what I'll take out for them. Using Loxodon Warhammers is a little surprising I suppose, but 5/2 Hippies with lifelink, trample, flying, and making them discard a card at random is scary shit.
I'm glad I'm able to redo my old black deck with Hypnotic Specters and a Yawgmoth's Will. |
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| This poem is not by or for someone I've never met. |
[Nov. 6th, 2009|11:37 pm] |
Don't you see friend, That I'll be here till the end. Waiting for you to know, I'm ready to answer the phone.
I wish I could speak in something better than words, How much a shame we can't sing just like birds. I wish you knew, That I still count you among the few. Of the people I thought were from a different world. We'll go for a walk, and just talk. I wish you were here, I'd show you about the beer, And the world we alienate, together the things we hate.
Come back to me, Oh friend of mine, Because I'll still be waiting till the end of time. Please don't think, I'm crazy if I need a shrink, Or that I think That I need a shrink And I hope, you don't think this is at all, cheapened by rhyme. Oh truest, friend of mine.
If you remember my number, We'll sit on the lumber, (Harvest some lumber) Together again, oh greatest friend of mine. (Until I steal your gold mine) Until the end of time.
Both of us waiting, Worrying and wishing you'd return to us two.
I'm sorry about the toke, I just want you to remember the joke That we made that day, Far back, and far away.
So just give me a sign, Oh friend of mine and once again I get to be your friend. Either way, I hope you're fine Oh friend of mine. |
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| Thanks Henry. We'll have our time together soon. |
[Nov. 6th, 2009|11:27 pm] |
After all, the practical reason why, when the power is once in the hands of the people, a majority are permitted, and for a long period continue, to rule is not because they are most likely to be in the right, nor because this seems fairest to the minority, but because they are physically the strongest. But a government in which the majority rule in all cases can not be based on justice, even as far as men understand it. Can there not be a government in which the majorities do not virtually decide right and wrong, but conscience?--in which majorities decide only those questions to which the rule of expediency is applicable? Must the citizen ever for a moment, or in the least degree, resign his conscience to the legislator? Why has every man a conscience then? I think that we should be men first, and subjectsb afterward. It is not desirable to cultivate a respect for the law, so much as for the right. The only obligation which I have a right to assume is to do at any time what I think right. It is truly enough said that a corporation has no conscience; but a corporation of conscientious men is a corporation _with_ a conscience. Law never made men a whit more just; and, by means of their respect for it, even the well-disposed are daily made the agents on injustice. A common and natural result of an undue respect for the law is, that you may see a file of soldiers, colonel, captain, corporal, privates, powder-monkeys, and all, marching in admirable order over hill and dale to the wars, against their wills, ay, against their common sense and consciences, which makes it very steep marching indeed, and produces a palpitation of the heart. They have no doubt that it is a damnable business in which they are concerned; they are all peaceably inclined. Now, what are they? Men at all? or small movable forts and magazines, at the service of some unscrupulous man in power? |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 5th, 2009|09:52 am] |
So I owned noobs in Magic on Monday and Wednesday. I'm going to go to a booster draft on Friday. I remade my old black deck, but had to take 4 Demonic Tutor and 4 Chrome Mox from my reanimator deck. It's pretty sweet, it's like Duncan's Mono Black Control 2.0.
I'm incredible at Warcraft 3 now. I've been playing more and more ladder games and less DotA. I play Undead, and I go Death Knight/Fiends/Statues/Frost Wyrms. It's a lot of fun. My micro is so gud. Starcraft 2 comes out in like 2 weeks. I also managed to SOMEHOW create the warcraft 3 account "philosophy" like 7 years after game launch.
I'm going to buy a 20 bag tonight. I can't wait. Tolerance is killing me, but it's less tolerance and more like the novelty of making any given moment the best in my life merely by flicking a lighter and breathing in. All depending on whether or not JT isn't dry. I hope it's regs too. Oh wellz.
I've been on an antidepressant for 2 months now. But I'm worried it's just agitating a hypomania. Every once in a while a spurt of joyous narcissism hits me. I've been on Abilify for the past 5 days, I'm pretty much not anxious, but that feeling is only taking shape as an anxious thought.
"Am I anxious?" "No I don't think so." "Ok"
Still, everyone who is laughing is laughing at me still. And every once in a while I still think I hear someone saying that hate me.
There's this kid to my left in the library, he's gigantic. Like he looks like Eddie Murphy in a fat suit. He's blasting some annoyingly high volumed high pitched song in his headphones (the little headphone buds, it's a mystery he's not bleeding out of his ears) and yet his breathing is still louder than it, and more rhythmic. I don't get people who don't have urges to jump over and climb on things, and instead prefer to not chew, in order to maximize caloric intake. But it's all jealousy I think. Yet, I can't seem to convince people that being active is fun. I pity those fools who don't why to climb to the top of every tree they see. That being said, I'm probably going to
My boxers are riding up. It sucks. I'll have to go to the bathroom soon to adjust it.
People will think I'm "dressed up" today but really I just actually did laundry last Saturday. But all of that was so that tomorrow I can wear clean sweat pants while walking around the forest trails on campus yelliing out very very very prosey free verse off of the top of my head. Before I sit down on the next tree stump, fallen tree, or climbing thing. I was walking to the library from east campus and threw an apple lazily into the trash, and I did it. Then I was walking over to a computer in the library and lazily threw my hat and it worked fine. (The hat I found on a hook on a bathroom door.)
I've gotten better at smiling on queue.
I'm working in the MCADOC office now. I had to make survey questions about sexual health so that we can determine what questions to ask in a sexual health Jeopardy game (though in actual Jeopardy questions wouldn't be asked). |
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| Behold, my notebook's collection of shit. |
[Nov. 4th, 2009|08:48 pm] |
Shito numero uno
Branching, branching, ever forth, Dividing at the seams Changing ever forth to the utmost extremes Splitting and winning Eternally widening, colliding, and frantically spinning Collecting and climbing, As causality is joyously rhyming. Walking or sitting forever Time and its chances ending never. Constantly moving, going, flying, fleeting, and flowing The complexities are multiplying, the happenings are happening, and all that is to be is to be! The seeds unfurl themselves endlessly. Growing and grinning, Sighing and crying And living and dying.
Shito numero dos
Everything seems to have existential meaning, So off this green plant I must need weening, Bridges in sight forever But all leading to never
Fuck this Luck I'm out of endless time There's no lines left to rhyme But it just keeps on chiming, chime
I'm sitting in this fake land Crafting castles out of this dream sand Worried about the manifestations of fate Pondering over anything that is even only barely ornate.
Does it feel real yet? Who are all these people I haven't met? What is real? What is fake? Is there any meaning to these thoughts I make?
Miraculously I'm still hoping I won't need the noose I've made out of roping. Though it doesn't matter much at all I can't walk far before I start to fall
Though the beginning is over, and the end is near I can't say anything else seems very clear, And when reality starts to peel away. There's nothing else left to say.
Wasting my life away on a train Hoping each day for the return of rain Worrying I'm not sane Gripping and leaning on my chemical cane.
It's so surreal, This moral ordeal, I am in posession of eternity but I've not yet obtained certainty
What is fake, what is real? I desperately keep myself on an even keel Is all life just a lie Until we live then we die? |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 3rd, 2009|10:39 am] |
The conversations in my head with with my own personal cerebral representations of actual people in my life are so articulate. I don't think I could really convey how much smarter everyone is in my head compared to "real" life. These phatasms feel otherwordly eternal pity for their simulacra. They share all of my lofty points of view that are flawed as much as they are logical. I cannot help but feel confusion when they speak to me - and my memories of them actually speaking to me - I can only think 'this isn't how you act in my head.' Such contrast is self defeating, and I feel myself being pulled apart as I desperately try to assign meaning to the fallacies created by the twistedness of reality. The ribbons of psychotic interpretations wrap and envelop themselves.
All while pretending I am interested in what you actually have to say.
I wish you could notice how flawlessly I live my dual life. To you, I appear aloof and a little odd. But to me, I am the hero, the president, the god, the general, and the manifestation of all the truth in existence.
So when it appears like I'm bored by you, or distracted by something, just know that it's your better self that is holding my attention.
So it is, that I have no anchor. Only an imagined one, ironically. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 31st, 2009|09:55 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Bob Dylan - Don't Think Twice, It's All Right | ] | Assurances
I need no assurances, I am a man who is preoccupied of his own soul; I do not doubt that from under the feet and beside the hands and face I am cognizant of, are now looking faces I am not cognizant of, calm and actual faces, I do not doubt but the majesty and beauty of the world are latent in any iota of the world, I do not doubt I am limitless, and that the universes are limitless, in vain I try to think how limitless, I do not doubt that the orbs and the systems of orbs play their swift sports through the air on purpose, and that I shall one day be eligible to do as much as they, and more than they, I do not doubt that temporary affairs keep on and on millions of years, I do not doubt interiors have their interiors, and exteriors have their exteriors, and that the eyesight has another eyesight, and the hearing another hearing, and the voice another voice, I do not doubt that the passionately-wept deaths of young men are provided for, and that the deaths of young women and the deaths of little children are provided for, (Did you think Life was so well provided for, and Death, the purport of all Life, is not well provided for?) I do not doubt that wrecks at sea, no matter what the horrors of them, no matter whose wife, child, husband, father, lover, has gone down, are provided for, to the minutest points, I do not doubt that whatever can possibly happen anywhere at any time, is provided for in the inherences of things, I do not think Life provides for all and for Time and Space, but I believe Heavenly Death provides for all.
Don't Think Twice, It's All Right It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe It don't matter, anyhow An' it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe If you don't know by now When your rooster crows at the break of dawn Look out your window and I'll be gone You're the reason I'm trav'lin' on Don't think twice, it's all right It ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe That light I never knowed An' it ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe I'm on the dark side of the road Still I wish there was somethin' you would do or say To try and make me change my mind and stay We never did too much talkin' anyway So don't think twice, it's all right It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal Like you never did before It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal I can't hear you any more I'm a-thinkin' and a-wond'rin' all the way down the road I once loved a woman, a child I'm told I give her my heart but she wanted my soul But don't think twice, it's all right I'm walkin' down that long, lonesome road, babe Where I'm bound, I can't tell But goodbye's too good a word, gal So I'll just say fare thee well I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind You could have done better but I don't mind You just kinda wasted my precious time But don't think twice, it's all right |
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| A Song of the Rolling Earth, by Walt Whitman |
[Oct. 30th, 2009|01:38 pm] |
A SONG of the rolling earth, and of words according, Were you thinking that those were the words, those upright lines? those curves, angles, dots? No, those are not the words, the substantial words are in the ground and sea, They are in the air, they are in you. Were you thinking that those were the words, those delicious sounds out of your friends' mouths? No, the real words are more delicious than they. Human bodies are words, myriads of words, (In the best poems re-appears the body, man's or woman's, well-shaped, natural, gay, Every part able, active, receptive, without shame or the need of shame.) Air, soil, water, fire-those are words, I myself am a word with them-my qualities interpenetrate with theirs-my name is nothing to them, Though it were told in the three thousand languages, what would air, soil, water, fire, know of my name? A healthy presence, a friendly or commanding gesture, are words, sayings, meanings, The charms that go with the mere looks of some men and women, are sayings and meanings also. The workmanship of souls is by those inaudible words of the earth, The masters know the earth's words and use them more than audible words. Amelioration is one of the earth's words, The earth neither lags nor hastens, It has all attributes, growths, effects, latent in itself from the jump, It is not half beautiful only, defects and excrescences show just as much as perfections show. The earth does not withhold, it is generous enough, The truths of the earth continually wait, they are not so conceal'd either, They are calm, subtle, untransmissible by print, They are imbued through all things conveying themselves willingly, Conveying a sentiment and invitation, I utter and utter, I speak not, yet if you hear me not of what avail am I to you? To bear, to better, lacking these of what avail am I? (Accouche! accouchez! Will you rot your own fruit in yourself there? Will you squat and stifle there?) The earth does not argue, Is not pathetic, has no arrangements, Does not scream, haste, persuade, threaten, promise, Makes no discriminations, has no conceivable failures, Closes nothing, refuses nothing, shuts none out, Of all the powers, objects, states, it notifies, shuts none out. The earth does not exhibit itself nor refuse to exhibit itself, possesses still underneath, Underneath the ostensible sounds, the august chorus of heroes, the wail of slaves, Persuasions of lovers, curses, gasps of the dying, laughter of young people, accents of bargainers, Underneath these possessing words that never fall. To her children the words of the eloquent dumb great mother never fail, The true words do not fail, for motion does not fail and reflection does not fall, Also the day and night do not fall, and the voyage we pursue does not fall. Of the interminable sisters, Of the ceaseless cotillons of sisters, Of the centripetal and centrifugal sisters, the elder and younger sisters, The beautiful sister we know dances on with the rest. With her ample back towards every beholder, With the fascinations of youth and the equal fascinations of age, Sits she whom I too love like the rest, sits undisturb'd, Holding up in her hand what has the character of a mirror, while her eyes glance back from it, Glance as she sits, inviting none, denying none, Holding a mirror day and night tirelessly before her own face. Seen at hand or seen at a distance, Duly the twenty-four appear in public every day, Duly approach and pass with their companions or a companion, Looking from no countenances of their own, but from the countenances of those who are with them, From the countenances of children or women or the manly countenance, From the open countenances of animals or from inanimate things, From the landscape or waters or from the exquisite apparition of the sky, From our countenances, mine and yours, faithfully returning them, Every day in public appearing without fall, but never twice with the same companions. Embracing man, embracing all, proceed the three hundred and sixty-five resistlessly round the sun; Embracing all, soothing, supporting, follow close three hundred and sixty-five offsets of the first, sure and necessary as they. Tumbling on steadily, nothing dreading, Sunshine, storm, cold, heat, forever withstanding, passing, carrying, The soul's realization and determination still inheriting, The fluid vacuum around and ahead still entering and dividing, No balk retarding, no anchor anchoring, on no rock striking, Swift, glad, content, unbereav'd, nothing losing, Of all able and ready at any time to give strict account, The divine ship sails the divine sea. 2 Whoever you are! motion and reflection are especially for you, The divine ship sails the divine sea for you. Whoever you are! you are he or she for whom the earth is solid and liquid, You are he or she for whom the sun and moon hang in the sky, For none more than you are the present and the past, For none more than you is immortality. Each man to himself and each woman to herself, is the word of the past and present, and the true word of immortality; No one can acquire for another-not one, Not one can grow for another-not one. The song is to the singer, and comes back most to him, The teaching is to the teacher, and comes back most to him, The murder is to the murderer, and comes back most to him, The theft is to the thief, and comes back most to him, The love is to the lover, and comes back most to him, The gift is to the giver, and comes back most to him-it cannot fail, The oration is to the orator, the acting is to the actor and actress not to the audience, And no man understands any greatness or goodness but his own, or the indication of his own. 3 I swear the earth shall surely be complete to him or her who shall be complete, The earth remains jagged and broken only to him or her who remains jagged and broken. I swear there is no greatness or power that does not emulate those of the earth, There can be no theory of any account unless it corroborate the theory of the earth, No politics, song, religion, behavior, or what not, is of account, unless it compare with the amplitude of the earth, Unless it face the exactness, vitality, impartiality, rectitude of the earth. I swear I begin to see love with sweeter spasms than that which responds love, It is that which contains itself, which never invites and never refuses. I swear I begin to see little or nothing in audible words, All merges toward the presentation of the unspoken meanings of the earth, Toward him who sings the songs of the body and of the truths of the earth, Toward him who makes the dictionaries of words that print cannot touch. I swear I see what is better than to tell the best, It is always to leave the best untold. When I undertake to tell the best I find I cannot, My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath will not be obedient to its organs, I become a dumb man. The best of the earth cannot be told anyhow, all or any is best, It is not what you anticipated, it is cheaper, easier, nearer, Things are not dismiss'd from the places they held before, The earth is just as positive and direct as it was before, Facts, religions, improvements, politics, trades, are as real as before, But the soul is also real, it too is positive and direct, No reasoning, no proof has establish'd it, Undeniable growth has establish'd it. 4 These to echo the tones of souls and the phrases of souls, (If they did not echo the phrases of souls what were they then? If they had not reference to you in especial what were they then?) I swear I will never henceforth have to do with the faith that tells the best, I will have to do only with that faith that leaves the best untold. Say on, sayers! sing on, singers! Delve! mould! pile the words of the earth! Work on, age after age, nothing is to be lost, It may have to wait long, but it will certainly come in use, When the materials are all prepared and ready, the architects shall appear. I swear to you the architects shall appear without fall, I swear to you they will understand you and justify you, The greatest among them shall be he who best knows you, and encloses all and is faithful to all, He and the rest shall not forget you, they shall perceive that you are not an iota less than they, You shall be fully glorified in them. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 27th, 2009|12:33 pm] |
My psychology class is cancelled. I was hoping that it would squelch my desire to climb my hill and smoke my smoke.
Now I'm going to search for free food. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 27th, 2009|10:30 am] |
So everything I've done has gone to shit, like always.
I skipped 3 weeks of my English class. I kept putting off a paper. I have a fucking AWESOME thesis for it. And I've used so many amazing words, it was just a perfect one page and a half (3 pages probably, after double spacing it) I just couldn't do it. I'm going to drop the class. I hate Modern British Fiction anyway. Though, I want to take a Recent British Fiction class.
In other news I am amazing at child psychology, human geography, and Western civ. But that's because these are all joke classes.
My bag is a lot less empty than I thought it would be. I found a chunk of deodorant from an old stick (I drop them onto my floor and then they break) and it reminded me of very euphoric hypomania, and it's made me slightly hypomanic. Anyway, it just smells so good.
This was a thought process earlier, walking back down from the hill (aka My hill).
"No, I'm not stoned, I'm just a little high"
And it made me giggle joyfully with my mouth closed. Which I've determined is a sign that something I thought was funny.
I bought a "Blade(tm) Energy," Energy Drink. I've calculated its caffeine content is 1.07 miligrams for every cent. (I say calculated but it's really just caffeine/cents, not exactly worth whipping out the c word over, however it technically, at least definitionally speaking).
In the science of turning herbs into happiness, I don't have a complete thought for this sentence however that phrase that starts this sentence sounded so cool I had to write it. Not that this gets read by anyone. But I type it because I can't yell in this library, merely type unhumanly quick, or merely annoyingly quick.
You have the look of a man who accepts what he sees, because he is expecting to wake up. Ironically this is not far from the truth. Tell me, do you believe in fate?
No.
Why not?
Because I don't like the idea that I'm not in control of my life.
I know exactly what you mean.
I yearn for the one who shares my cynicism, nihilism, lazy wit, tendency to ponder existentially, and whose parts complement mine. We would sit down and become engulfed in smoke and tearful laughter. Mocking the oppositioned and their opposition. And forever apprectiating the great cosmic joke. Laughing whimisically in between pelvic bouts. And participate in a removal of all definite articles, speaking only in indefinite ones.
Ah, the dream.
10:50 - 10 minutes to get to class. |
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[Oct. 24th, 2009|12:34 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | The Who - I can see for miles | ] | Ah, there you are again, confidence and contentedness. How was it in the bag? Hidden under that unframed picture that sits on top of the table. How was it today? Without me? While I yearned for you? Did you yearn for me too?
Or did you just sit in a bag between my M.C Escher Painting and the table beneath it.
I look, and it seems like this feeling will last forever. Though, only just 3 minutes have passed. Now it's 8:13, 10 minutes have now passed.
This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven, And I said to my spirit When we become the enfolders of those orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of every thing in them, shall we be fill'd and satisfied then? And my spirit said No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond.
It's so good. I'm addicted to just reading my Leaves of Grass book that I got from the Thomas Paine library, because I don't owe them money. Walt Whitman... Wow.
So talking to my therapist is good. I've sort've just rushed through all the thoughts in my head with him, and it feels good to be able to say them and have someone nod. But in some ways he actually seems to like me genuinely. And I like that he is able to reassure me that A) I'm not crazy, and that B) I'm overthinking too much.
That's good.
I feel like the anti-depressant has turned my life into this thing that I like. Like I all of a sudden like living, and am excited for what the future holds, I find that I have hope when a normal person was supposed to have hope.
There's this cool girl in my geography class, a few days ago my teacher was talking about how in the third world, prescription drugs (drugs that require prescriptions here) can be bought legally without a prescription there. Then someone said smuggling or something and the teacher said something about drug smelling dogs and I go,
"That why you ship it in bags of meat.....................................Just sayin.'"
And this girl in particular... but thought pattern (now that I'm stoned)
isn't as interesting
This one is
Nihilism is my enveloping womb of security, If there is nothing, then nothing matters, but if there is something, then nothing matters, Confounding, Surrounding and Overpowering. The pursuit of pleasure is the only. |
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| Thanks again Walt |
[Oct. 19th, 2009|07:14 pm] |

I shall venerate hours and days and think them immeasureable hereafter; I am finding how much I can pass through in a few minutes. I was a good friend to all things before, But now what I was seems to me limpsey and little. |
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