AD

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Speaking in pictures

Speakers loud crackly

book yellow hardened

room bright old

sweater cheap woven

laptop sitting bed

plate soiled crumby

remote black cracked

can upright finished

face scraggly old

mind empty blank

heart mangled sank

-d

another place

when the velcro ripped
when my hand slipped out
my love increased

when the pain of your absence faded away
my love increased

when i learned how to sleep without you
my love increased

when i walked on the meadow completely absorbed
when i walked on the meadow completely full
when i walked on the meadow whole
my love increased

when i pronounced my name
all by myself
my love increased

i love you

------

ragged rocks
next to the ocean
ragged ocean next
to the rocks

they curl and make love
beneath my eyes

painful sweet love
necessary love

the painful sweet love
i want to make every day
as i carve myself into the ground

i bring painful sweet love into you
let me hurt you most beautifully
leave a mark to remember me

necessary love
charcoal love

leaves turn inside me

Sat nov 15 08

Today I did a little bit of walking through a very old forest. I meandered through a mesh of wet black deadened bushes, sickly vines snaking along the ground and up a few trees, a few sad blue purple berries crying and clinging to the frail arms desperate to let them go. A stark electric silvery lavender sticker bush buzzed surreally against the foggy gray sea of decomposing forest. It was silencing and unsettling. I looked up at the skyline to watch old old sickly trees swaying and swooning and hoping the next storm wind would bring them back down to their safe soft ground so they could finally sleep.

The wind felt refreshing except when it occasionally brought with it a vague smell of rotting animal. I want afraid. I almost kind of felt in place here. Everything here felt so old and exhausted and weak. A beautiful giving in. a beautiful self silencing giving out of the limbs. A beautiful appreciation and acceptance of transformation. Leaves dangling from blackened twigs so ready to drop and dissolve back into the ground. Undying energy caught in up in a false visage of death and decay. Ironic and invigorating and indescribable.

I lifted my arms up above my head and stretched toward the sky. Stretching myself apart, making spaces within me to let the air incorporate itself more readily inside my body. Deep affirming breath. I was in. I wanted to lie down on the ground but it was a little too wet and muddy. But oh its just mud and water. Im made of the same things. Gloomy beautiful sad drifty drafty day. Im glad the wet earth gave way under my feet. Im glad I sunk a little. Im glad I can feel myself in this earth and not just on it. And anxiety keeping me on a painful edge. Maybe ill shake it tomorrow. And grow more coherent. Maybe ill swallow the pain whole. Hug and embrace it. Thrive on it. Thats what ill do.

Then I got in the car and began to listen to leaves turn inside you and I rode home with the dying forest swaying in my ears.

Friday november 14

when I label myself I negate myself. I distract myself. I dissociate from myself. I lose myself. I lose touch. When I sit on the stiff sofa on the third floor of the library, drugged by the flurosecent artificial lighting and the air vent somewhere several feet from my head, communicating with a book, connecting with it, integrating it, im calm, alive, in a sort of active still. This is where true living lies. Where bright flurescent lights fuzz out five minutes ago and five minutes later. Analyzing with my left side, gushing through my right. Maybe I glance at the clock. Not in anticipation necessarily, but just out of curiosity. I decide not to let it mean anything.

I think im learning to write what I feel instead of to write what I think I feel. Notice how thinking tends to get in the way of things. Dont say what you think you should say. Dont say what you think you want say. Just say what you want to say. Say. Hey im really thirsty

I have a tendency to be a hypochondriac. This happens when I move from my feeling sphere to my over analyzing one. Every slight ache (many of which are only psychological or at least originate in my overactive imagination) turns into a blood clot, heart attack, or some other extreme illness. Its a horrible feeling, a horrible way to live, when you feel like cancer is hiding behind everything as though it were all just a giant screen to block out the black illness thats obviously taking over me quietly from the inside out. Hypohondria is almost like cancer. Its all too easy to fall into a state in which the overwhelming feelings grow grow grow snowballing exponentially while you shake and pulse in anxiety. Listening to music is a good way to snap the brain out of an overly analytical frame of thinking, at least for me it is. It is my medicine. My liberator.

Sounding stilted is one thing. But feeling stilted is the worst. Feeling stilted is feeling only partially alive. It is a weakened, fragmented form of living. Feeling stilted is when your battling between your intuition and the “rules.” And you keep giving into the rules sometimes even though you know, you know, you will ultimately feel more whole, more alive, once you stop giving into the outer and give in completely to yourself. So you almost consciously deny yourself of yourself and you keep doing it, maybe out of habit or seemingly apparent ease. This pulls you apart in weird directions. Its an uncomfortable straddling that ulteriorly feels wrong but, on the uppermost levels of your consciousness, it manages to find itself preserved by repressive justification.

Being an introvert, I feel so aware of the all the seemingly minuscule changes I go through day after day, week after week. All this constant evolution, occasionally sprinkled with “devolution” unfortunately. But then I find myself evolving back out of the pits. I always seem to be gaining a little more than I happen to lose, fortunately. I guess im too restless if im caught in a state of overt recession. Well duh.

I feel like im returning to the white fluffy pleasures of being. Just being. The perimeters of this state are whitened out and hazy. The focus is sharp. Im centered, in myself. Not by force, not by contrivance but by giving in. is this selfish self indulgence? Yes and no. self indulgence? Yes. How can one live without indulging in one's self? Selfish in that I will listen to myself. Ish. A tendency to be focused in the self. Take it how you will. You can't live wholly or effectively, unless you know yourself. Maybe im done with trying now. Now. I burned all the rule books. And the words. Even the ones I wrote. Because once I write them, and then undergo a change myself, which inevitably I will do, they are no longer mine anymore. So I just go, I just swim, moment by moment. Living by something more real than words. Stale words engraved and distorted with the inevitable dust that trails from the tongue absolutely.

-sg

I'm swimming in a giant ocean. The trees over there out the window are part of me and im part of them. My arms have golden orange leaves, sweet smelling beautiful transforming leaves, clinging on to them. The wind, an extension of my breath, shakes everything. It makes us dance, it makes us throb, and shiver, and bend and sway. Supporting us one way or another. The sun comes down, bounces off the ground and flies in every direction filling my eye and swelling me up from the inside. My slightly gnawing hunger and caffienation always seems to make me aware of these things. Im not inside, the trees arent outside. My eyes have just managed to pack everything into neat little boxes. Where do I end? Where does the table start? I could pretend I end at my finger tips and the table a foot in front of me. But I want to see things differently, at least for some time. To think outside myself, think for him and her . Her happiness is my happiness is everyone elses collective harmony and peace. It is not me against the world. It is not me and my immediate companions against the world, the government, society. Sure, I must collect myself, be sure of myself, know myself, whatever that means. But I am not white against black. Just as race is an illusion, so is right and wrong, at least in the usual sense. I am not right, you are not wrong. And vice versa. Numbers and statistics, news programs, figures, ideals, don't account for the truth. There are symbols hovering around in some fantasy statistical cloud just out of the corner of my eye, and then there is the truth,which escapes this computer, the words at the ends of these keys, the notion that a “disabled” child should be put into a little box and will live a predictable future and will never succeed in any significant way. When will we eradicate the middle man, the directions, the maps, the guidebooks, and start living for the details, by the details?

-sammy

im sleepy

i have a bad habit of trying to make things more complicated then they need to be, of distracting myself.

thank you for reminding me. whoever you are

stop wanting and start learning to have.
i have swam through a forest of water cold, alive, completely saturated in everything, for miles. shields down, walls down, "protection" down. i dont want protection. protection from what? myself? from nothing.

computer screens, sucking, blinding screens are not for us. stifling, choking little cubby holes in tall buildings are not for us. thank you black moth super rainbow for reminding me that all that i really want in life is to sleep in a field. maybe forever. with grass whispering in my ear. no middle. no interpretation. eat an apple and feel it go through me. euphoria is dissolving all the labels, all the "meanings", all the purposes, all the descriptions. euphoria is everything wild, untamed, completely unknown, unlabeled, and absurd stealing my senses entirely. and not resisting any of it.

Don't believe for a second

that we're not just atoms that are arranged in such a way that they can ponder themselves

that we're not made from the same things stars, tree bark, and bananas are made out of

that we're not just the imagination of ourselves

that our personalities aren't just assembled defense mechanisms aquired through our formative years and regurgitated throughout our lives without question

that "God" is responsible for your actions, not you

that you shouldn't doubt yourself

that Christopher Walken is the coolest man on the planet

Don't believe for a second

MBV vs. the MoS

For human existence to have meaning, we must submit to a higher authority, power, or thing for us to bounce our selfish egos, wishes, and desires off of. This is our purpose for living; our reference point. For many people, this reference point is the belief in God, and belief in a judgment that will decide all of their fates after they die. The judgment factor is based on "moral conduct". It seems obvious to me that this mental heuristic that has been ingrained in so many psyche's is nothing more than an evolutionary idea or concept (and an ingenious one at that) that has arguably helped humans survive without much questioning of God-based morals (which are nothing more than heuristics set about to help humans survive for the longest time possible on earth, by taking the path of least resistance and least danger). Now, as all of us know, as humans, we cannot follow these morals 100% of the time perfectly, and this is due to our selfish nature. Putting ourselves in front of other is the exact opposite of God based morals. Now, how do you suppose these morals were created in the first place? By the observance of human nature without the heuristics of putting the heuristics of long term survival (which for some reason don't come standard in our brain, this is due to the fact that we are essentially apes-- read Carl Jung's The Undiscovered Self for much more insight into how we differentiate ourselves from our animal insincts) and in fact, these morals were created BY selfish people. Why do I say this? Because the first human who created morals thought of his own well being FIRST and his own survival FIRST before considering the survival of all human kind. This does not make morals absolete per se,(note Charles Bukowski: They found their morals restrictive, but mostly they lacked the ability to feel or love) but it certainly puts a dent into people's noraml conception of them. THis goes along with the same concept put forth by Camus in his seminal novel The Fall when Jean Baptise realizes that he cannot love without self love, and that at the time in his life when he was "sailing" making "virtue his own reward", he realized it was basically to fill his own needs and values rather than to help others (as comically noted by him tipping his hat to a blind woman he helped cross the street). I will refrain from drawing extraneous conclusions from these conjectures-- make up your own mind.

Now, in a world without God, Camus and other existentialists point out that man is faced with the absurd, and left with nothing else to really live for. Other writers such as Kierkegaard and Kafka try to tackle this problem, but Camus calls their attempt half heated because in Kierkegaard's case he turns to God for solace, and Kafka's stories always are left with a glimmer of hope. We are not left with many shiny bits of hope with Camus however,m as he presents himself as the true absurdist writer. For Camus, the purpose in life comes from what you choose to give meaning and submit to. You may find it easy to counter this by saying that that in the end, if there is no afterlife, it was all still absurd. TO combat this Camus brings up the Myth of Sisyphus; a myth that explains Sisyphus's rejection of death by instead choosing to push up a large rock up a hill, having it roll back, only to repeat this process for eternity. Camus says that Sisyphus gains meaning in life from the struggles being put forth in raising the rock up the hill, even if he knows it is a futile task. Sisyphus is aware of the futility but submits to the fact that he is alive, and has this task to accomplish, and gets meaning from the toil involved. Sisyphus chose life.

Thankfully, for most of us, life isn't as absurd as pushing a rock up a hill. We have many different variables set upon us by birth in which we were thrust into. One of them is our DNA, which decides for us many factors beyond our control. One other variable that is decided for us is our environment into which we are born, and subsequently the values that were are imprinted with. AT a certain point in our life, we must come to face the possibility of the absurd, whether the fact that what we were presented with in this life (the aforementioned variables) is acceptable for us to create our own meaning, andin realizing our ultimate freedom, choosing to accept it or not. Sartre called the people who recognized their freedom and choose to restrict it flat out "cowards". Once you are faced with the absurd you cannot go back, the "nausea" as Sartre called it, will taint you as soon as you let your guard down.

Believers in God may combat this by saying that you will never even experience true happiness on Earth (let alone the tenuous afterlife) if you do not submit to God. Let us explore this. I have personally experienced both the simultaneous belief in God and the "feeling" of presence believers sometimes attribute to him. This feeling is nothing more than the feeling of ultimate security and the fact that you are correct in your judgments about life, and a subsequent sense of peace. This is the believers reward. He KNOWS he is right. I say that this feeling can be achieved by non believers also, but it must conform to a number of variables. I am really uninclined to believe that this feeling can be achieved if the individual's self created goals he is submitting to involve the destruction of innocent life, property, or other such generalities of moral thought.

This is all just background if you will to what I had been pondering for some time now for a few weeks prior to the show I was headed to. I actually needed to stop thinking so much about morality and the such for its uncanny power to shift perceptions to an unnerving degree if thought about vividly.


As I was driving to the concert, I was musing upon the differences between Thinking and Feeling preferences in the psyche. Me almost exclusivity having a thinking preference, decided that it would be interesting to see what would happen if I subverted overt logic in favor of feeling. Immediately as I did this, the world literally became brighter (such changes in consciousness always have perceptual ramifications) and the car in front of me with a "Jesus saves" bumper sticker no longer was a cause of scorn, what took the place of this more natural reaction of mine was "that's nice that that person believes that, it doesn't really matter if that person believes that or not; I'm sure they're happy with their decision, and thats all that matters". I suddenly wondered why I was nervous about following the directions to the auditorium astutely, after all, as long as I got there, it didn't matter how long it took, as long as I didn't think about it too much I was happy. All that mattered was that I get there at some point. In a life that's truly absurd, why did facts matter? I recalled Bukowski's quote "Fuck truth! All that matters is style!" And Faulkner's "I am not fond of facts-- prop them up on their side and you will find that they hardly cast a shadow". It all made perfect sense: adjust your values system to something that made you happy, and you will be happy. This thinking almost overtook me before my better judgment got a hold of me, if that is what you want to call it. If I was capable of maintaining such a viewpoint (many would be jealous of such an ability) then why would I stop? This is what I ultimately decided. My natural preference has always been with logic and thinking, with the unconscious and just "understood" belief that logic should outweigh emotion in decision making. This is often attributed as as masculine quality. If I used logic to get to a viewpoint where logic was now seen as unacceptable, would this new viewpoint really be valid? No, of course this was not valid, because I had willingly came to such a a conclusion through logical principles, and these are obviously the ones either my neurology/DNA/ un determinable early social experiences determined. I wrestled with the fact that there are some things about ourselves that we cannot change. Do we really have ultimate freedom if we can never know ourselves and that existential self analysis as Sartre puts " is just conjecturing on our own motivations?" This resonated through my mind as I eyed a freeway exit that I thought may have been mine, but it wasn't., I was lost in thought, my surroundings a haze. I began to wonder what my motivation was for my self analysis, and in doing so, encountered a number of logical loops that have no end and ultimately proved that we cannot know ourselves, and that other people (perhaps psychologists) can only speculate and give human created labels and metaphors that may or may not cover some of the characteristics and behaviors exhibited by the individual, then labeling with the certain metaphor, then the subject's ultimate choice is to either identify with the metaphor (which in most cases involves taking on all of the traits that the entire metaphor implies, rather than picking and choosing what fits) and then deciding for oneself what the benefit of such a label applied to the yourself is. I am convinced this process is mostly an unconscious one, with the subject's existing complexes coloring the process. If one is to take on the perspective of entirely neutral observer however, then one can look at his complexes from an external perspective, decide if they are ultimately valid or not, and discard which what he'she chooses. This is what Sartre said to be impossible in his book Existentialism and Human Emotions, though I assure you it is not; for I am have done it and I'm sure other have also. It involves a psychological phenomenon known as depersonalization, which Sartre even dedicates a book called Nausea too. The "nausea" as Sartre refers to it as is induced in the protagonist by external factors-- realizing that existence is created the author's decision to declare life meaningless. My depersonalization was induced by other means, which is essentially that I havea strong urge to know things, and that this urge has turned itself inward. Unexpected results occurred.

Anyway, while still in my "feeling" state, I decided that believing in God wasn't such a bad idea at all, because after all, it felt so nice to be enveloped in the presence of God, and to know that I would have a place in heaven after death. I came to thinking though, if this was to be accepted, numerous logical principles that went along with dealing with other real life problems would also have to be discarded. I pondered the genius of many exceptional thinkers who have proved to be very insightful and revolutionary and still have had faith-- Carl Jung, Da Vinci, Kierkegaard.. I envied them all. If only I knew their secret.

Pondering the myth of Sisyphus again, I mused upon what gave my lfie meaning. Obviously, I though, I am driving to a concert that I paid money for, and have been at various points, very excited about. I am very passionate about music, after all (life without music would be a mistake- Nietzsche), and the accumulation of knowledge around this area. I am actually so interested in this subject that that at various points in my life I have made it my focal point; often times pouring over my computer for hours on end, downloading, listening to, and discussing music. I cannot think of a more rewarding experience to me than this. It is my passion. It is so intense, and I have wondered that if that other traits I posses may align me with a neurological discrepancy called Asperger's Syndrome, though this as Sartre would call it is, "pure speculation". But, was this submission to my passion going to guarantee me the most out of life? After all I knew that people who had faith were more intensely "happy" than me most of the time. I had known the feeling of God before in my life, and it was great. AT that moment in line amongst the MBV fans a horrible realization creeped upon me. "Maybe I just want to KNOW". This is often the case for me, I always get engrossed in a certain subject, only to discard it unconsciously and never return to it because I have fully analyzed it. If I just want to KNOW about existence, how would I ever get anything out of it? I have proved time and time and again that any experience, if analyzed at the time of action becomes "stops becoming an experience" as Nietzsche said. AS I realized this my peripheral vision expanded and I began to see my surroundings as all equally human, driven by some complexes, various background experiences, of varying degrees of giddiness and excitement at this occasion that they deemed worthy, wearing clothes that they thought represented their image of themselves, and they didn't even know if this is what true happiness was, or what true happiness could be. Everything became neutral, base logic and I felt as if I could do anything. Any short coming in me was immediately addressed and judged as either appropriate or inappropriate given my knowledge of perception and the world. I had no preference but to have no preferences. I KNEW. I no longer desired anything, thus no more suffering could come from the loss of objects and experiences of desire. I also began to question why I was standing in line at this place when I was afforded ultimate freedom but no one but by my own realizations that made sense to the logical principles I made use of. This feeling was more intense and more powerful than I had ever experienced in my life. I no longer trusted myself, seeing my true self-- an animal with the ability to introspect onto his own being and place in teh universe. Nothing really mattered much anymore. I was no longer concerned about the persons beside me, or in front. This brought back thoughts on morals that I hold. I know that hurting another person or failing to reciprocate help to another would bring about the ultiamte destruction of everything, then no one would be able to experience anything. MY GOD I said, I am GOD.

And at this moment I realized that I must come down from such lofty thinking lest I separate myself from humanity to such a degree that it would ruin the chance of stability and happiness from anyone that was already attached to me or I had attached myself to. I saw my true self and nothing has frightened me more. Perhaps Sartre would call me a coward, but at least I knew what made me exist...I had a Higher Power to submit to in just a few minutes... check through the security guard, plow into the auditorium, eerie lighting and focal points permeating the room, strange, normal, justifiably excited people filled the place, noise, beautiful pink, noise..... I exist.... I am free... I am a coward!

You made me realise...

Timeshares, by Dominick

Timeshares.

One day I will regret this, by Dominick

-burnt by Dominick

08/31/08

i just want to meet open minded people, by samantha

in reality













*plagiarism alert!*

attention spans part two, by sammygibble

i agree with you (dominick) about attention spans. i also think that people with short attention spans have them because they are obsessed with doing only that which they are completely passionate about, they are committed to not comprimising their passions for something that doesnt consume them, that doesnt provide flow, to not bearing what they kind of enjoy in the name of waiting to do what they really love one day down the road. at least this what i like to think. or how i like to excuse myself.

everything is fuzzing together, by sammygibble

in a few days i will be posting here more frequently. i dont know if thats a good thing or not.

sitting in the car, suffocating on my own mucus boogering up my nose because i apparently was having a reaction of some sort to something outside, i thought a little bit about how much i think, or no better yet, try to plan and look forward to things, particularly things that never seem to materialize. and im thinking now that that is a problem. not that its inherently a problem; plans arent always bad. but im a master, obsessive planner. lists, lists, lists, ideas for my wonderful life. but where is it? where isn't it? its right around me but ignoring it because im caught up inside myself planning what im going to do tonight or tomorrow or next month, thinking about how wonderful things will be. what, next month when im sitting on my ass planning out the next month? i guessssss

no. i think i will reach my own form of "enlightenment" (which really doesnt mean anything) when i finally learn to really meld into the moment, completely consumed by my environment, instead of pretending im a spectator which is what i usually do in most circumstances. lie on the road and stare at its grain, not thinking about it with my mind but experiencing it with that other thing. that other thing.

one day i was staring at the grain of wood on my bed and i only hope i can return to how i felt in that moment. there was nothing before me or after me. the bed wasnt a bed, the wall not a wall, the floor not a floor. it was all one thing or better yet it wasnt a "thing". i felt like i was more closely seeing my environment for what it was (which still isnt true because really i dont think anyone can). there were no stops and starts, no zombie like fuzzing out all that was in front of me or IN me, part of me, me, it, us, we.

what?

George Washington, by Dominick

George Washington crossing the Delaware on Humble Knee, stern and poised as his heritage and the cold mist filled his marrow like little clear bubbles, strengthening his character, focusing his wisdom into a narrow channel, forming a conception for a New Nation-- clearing wake triumphantly behind him (is it going to capsize that other boat gee I don't know) recalling Herman Melville's spunk and spontaneity and the mallards and the plankton are pushed aside by force of will alone as the hull cut across the calm green blue all for certain fruit shaped glucose-filled snacks floating in mid air: why a commercial of course!

Having a long attention span, by Dominick

Having a long attention span simply means that you do not enjoy the activity at hand or are indifferent to it, and you are hoping that you will enjoy it somewhere down the line. This never happens.

Having a short attention span means you have a zest for learning and mastering the activity, but once you have you want to move on to the next.

Pick one.

I just want to meet open minded people, by Dominick

In reality

I believe that there are aspects of myself that are not accepted by most people that I have encountered in life. These aspects mostly represent known flaws in my character. I am looking for someone who will overlook these flaws in my personality that I am unwilling to change myself due to apathy and lack of convictions. People with strong convictions of the world frighten me because I have not developed my own inner voice and learned to think for myself. Therefore, my ideal person should be willing to listen to my willingly uniformed mind blab about anything with no logical or moral grounding and merely accept these outbursts as a construct of my personality.

A potentially interesting video game

This is something I just got around stirring in my head. Imagine a video game where the main tenants of it are th same as an rpg, but outside, say, on above a split screen there lies a maze, an obstacle course if you will, and the main objective of the game is to get through this obstacle course of enemies, environmental obstacles and other nuances. The player will have no direct control over his character's interaction with this environment, as his progress in this will only be due to the training he receives at the direction of the player.

The player is directly responsible for the nurturing and development of his character as per normal rpg mechanisms-- training, interacting with people, interacting with the environment, etc. The playable environment will mainly consist of a Zelda-like world, or a compostite world of basically any other medieval themed rpg.

You have a specific amount of time to train your character to the best of your abilities to deal with the maze that lingers on the top half of your screen. It is your responsibility to train your character in such a way that it will be conducive to conquering the environment. For example, if you observe a metal plated enemy in the maze, it would not be wise to develop weapons or skills that will not pierce his armor.

Once your time is up, you are thrust into the maze where your player is automatically controlled by the system of variables you set for it when training. You will get to observe your character dealing with this maze with the skills you taught him. If your character fails to get all the way through the maze and is felled by an enemy or an obstacle, you will be placed with your character again in its base state--with no skills and with the ever lingering time limit. However, the maze will be in the same state as you left it, with enemies and obstacles regenerating periodically with time. This time, it will be up to you when you want to be thrust back into the maze. The longer you wait, the more arduous the maze will become.

The mission is yours, should you choose to accept it.

Philosophy of Civilization Part II

"People wish to swim and at the same time keep one foot on the ground."

-Marcel Proust


This is an extention of my second article posted on here, My Own Almost-Madness. I hinted that there were some loose ends that needed to be tied up which is what I will ateempt to do in this article. I did ensure for the loose ends to be securley tied in a knot of sanity and eventual happiness for mankind, not for the simple goal of it being accomplished, but because it is what is logical.

First, a few key axioms will be expounded upon here. The first key axiom is that religions are all human created myths, no one has any or has ever had any "supernatural knowledge", God is either an hypothesis of how humanity should live, or an evolutionarly evolved portion of our psyche to help up cope with death. God is also the process of realizing our potential thorugh not repeateing histor'ys mistakes. This may seem like a grim revelation to atheists and believers alike, because it implies that atheism in all of its logical tenants are wrong and also that God in the personal; , entity doesn't exist either. However, God as these concepts is far more powerful than either of these theories. I must stop myself from getting into these concepts any further because they are dangerous to my stability. Just take them as they stand.

For simplicities sake, I will outline a few key tenants of my philosophy rather breifly. First, We must understand why myths are created in the first place, and who creates them. Secondly, we must understand who upholds the myths, and their motivation behind it. The reason why myths are created is to give hope and meaning to our miserable condition. They give us something larger to aspire to and no doubt help in the evolution of our psyche and moral lives as humans, thus ensuring our existence on Earth for a longer period of time: "eternal life". One might try to disrupt this argument by pointing out all of the bloodshed that religion has caused throughout history, but I will be quick to point out that religion is such a powerful way of looking at the world, that its true nature will be ironically distorted by people with power or looking for power. It is obvious that the myths themselves were not created to bring more destruction, but less. Therefore, any destruction that comes out of the myths is not the myths fault, but the humans perversion of the myth for their own selfish ends. Another important tenant is the people that uphold the myths in relation to the people that create the myths. The people that uphold the myths are called Guardians while the creators are called Dreamers. The Guardians always claim universal righteousness because they are guarding the myth at the time,, which at the time, represents the best version of reality for the population that is harboring it. They are wrong in claiming universal righteousness, because they do not forsee the myths changing over time to evolve into newer, better myths that will further serve humanity in its growing potential. The Guardians of the First Myth assume they are equally as right as the Guardians of the present myth. In the grand scheme of things, this is not the case. Remember that history is a cycle of getting closer to a perfect ideal, and the present myth is not the best, but merely the best conceivable one at the time given the circumstances. You may assume this philosophy is flawed because it presumes there is one myth generated which all people in humanity believe in. Because this is not the case, competing myths is another aspect of this I would like to explore. It is important to note that objectivley, there exists a myth that is "the best". For some, this may imply more destruction as history has shown us that settles these so called disputes. It is the nature of humans to be seperate in their own enclaves, and naturally to create their own version of the Earth, their own myths. The quest to find the best universal myth however, should be taken into the realm of academics, not in the realm of human induced power struggles. This is a very difficult task for us it seems, because we let our natural human instincts which the myths themselves try to squelch get in the way of our human reason.


For the purposes of this discourse, let us go back to the start of humanity. One other axiom is that there have always been myths to encompass knowledge that is seemingly out of humans grasp or to teach us how to live an ideal life. Going back to the first myth, we must assume that this one was not satisfactory since it is no longer practiced. For the purposes of this discussion we are talking about myths created in a localized geographical region, not the entire world as a whole, because the entire world as a whole has not grown at the same rate. Somewhere down the line, the first myth was regarded as not adequete anymore. It is then the principle task of the Dreamers to search their and the collective unconscious in order to come up with new myths. The Dreamers task is an extremely important and extremely extremly dangerous one. It is important because all of humanity depends on it, and dangerous because insanity and death can lay on one side of it if not carefully treaded. Many a Dreamer is found on the street corner in the present days in a schizophreinc state, babbling along his conception of humanity. Well, there was a time where these insane people weren't ignored, and they simply created our myths.

Now, the Guardian rarley understands the formation of the myths, but takes them at face value for what they are-- the best version of reality that exists at the present moment. THe Guardian doesn't see the need for the present myth to eventually be disregarded, but this in essence is okay, because if he did, he would not be a very good guardian at all.

Taking these concepts, I'm sure you can fill in the blanks yourself. For humanity to keep perpetuating itself, there needs to be an equal balance of Guardians, Dreamers, Rational Discourse in leu of human power being exerted, and above all, just loving your fucking neighbor.

-

not trying, by sammy

i feel like im trying to hard to orchestrate my posts and its killing my ideas.

ive been thinking a lot about the issue of integrity and its one of the few things really hammering on me lately. i mean of course im a victim of being fake, ingenuine. we all are at times. but i feel like today, its getting worse with the complete integration of the internet and the media into every aspect of our lives. some of us have so many facets and no discernable foundation. most people are so utterly afraid to be naked (you dont have to take that literally) in front of others so we cover ourselves up, distort ourselves, edit ourselves, add color here and take details away there, we sweep over the truth, leave things out and add others in in the name of appeal or beauty or acceptance and all we are left with is some generic facade. and for what reason? is living a lie really less horrible than being seen by others for what you really are even if they happen to dislike it? ive been having these weird urges lately, compulsions almost, to strip away every pretense and mirror and mask ive been suffocating myself under because otherwise im just killing myself. i am not samantha with nice lighting and a friendly camera. i want to present a solitary me to the world, or at least try as hard as i possibly can. living a lie isnt living. sorry if this is a little self indulgent but actually no im not sorry, i dont care.

Theres a point of no return in which

if you start to think to yourself

when you are in deep introspection

and you don't know what to think

you say to yourself

"I have a book for that question"

all hope is lost.

You have become a book.

History is filled with them

Gutenberg perpetuated this.

We could have been done with it with a simple fire to woodblocks and ink and arrows.

Kobe Bryant's greed and lust induced wheelchair based bleak future

I am of the opinion that Kobe Bryant has a decidedly different future ahead of him that not many can forsee.

His bright, physical-based future is about to come to an ironic halt. You see, Kobe has a network of illcit manners he has dipped his oversized feet into.

The first and most glaring of the matters is his involvement in a wheel-chair based mob, that likes to go on random crime sprees across the nation, under the guise of handicapped peoples.

The mob's main rub is that members cannot disclose any information regarding their operation or else beocme a ligitement parapalegic.

Kobe has been talking.

At a press conference on KCAL 9 the other night, he not only spilled the beans of his operation when a particulary inquisitive reporter asked about the ankle braces he forgot to take off from last night's crime run on Main Street. He gleefully and boastfully told of last nights endevours to the furiously scribbling journalist. Cries of shock and alarm were heard from the crowd.

Kobe couldn't escape his dark fate.

When he returned home, at his doorstep were two young men in motorized wheelchairs like the ones they advertise late night on informercials for grandmammy and grandpappy. They pulled out two revolvers, and shot his kneecaps clean off.

Kobe's physical based work-days were over.

Kobe has now taken an interest in pottery, growing dreadlocks, and driving about at in the midnight fog in his combustion based mechanical whel chair. He has used his considereable assets to upgrade to a steam powered one and invested in goggles to keep the bugs out of his vision.

Kobe can be spotted at local parks across the nation with his ever-growing dread locks scraping the pavement, sullenly riding up to old ladies walking their dogs, asking if he might be allowed to pet it. This is spurred by the devastating loss of contact he has had with people and with nature. It gives him hope to go on living.

Kobe's steam-powered anachrostic wheelchair interfers with people's vision and singes their eyebrows clean off when he comes to a complete halt. He needs to work on this.

Kobe Bryant wheels about in Walmarts across the nation, scrounging for discounted AA batteries which he throws into a pile in his home when he returns.

Kobe Bryant looks for old, cardboard based Eddie Murphy dvd's at select retail locations across America. These help him fall asleep at night, where he is greeted by visions of his former great basketball player self. Kobe Bryant does not like sleeping.


Kobe Bryant can be seen at the senior center, explaining his dread locks to the Older Generation, looking for some acceptance and understanding. He is frequently seen collecting aluminum cans like other people of his ilk, but then donates them to traveling destitue hobos in keeping with his new found spirituality in Buddishm—the gift of charity.


Kobe Bryant can now be seen mediating on street corners in his metal encased coffin of a vehicle. Sometimes the local children ask for his blessings.

Kobe Bryant has now become an enlightened Buddha, an envy of all sentient beings. People throw coins into the pouch he has located on his cart for good luck. Kobe Bryant does not mind this.

He uses these funds to purchase twinkies at the local Circle K, Eddie Murphy dvd's and other essentials of this truly remarkable and inspiring figure's life.

Kobe Bryatnt's last wishes were that he were to be encased in copper, and placed in the town centere of an Autrian town, where thousands of people pilgrimage to each year.

Introverted and Extraverted Thinking Attitudes in Jungian Typology

"The world appears dull and lifeless to the individual who does not know how to channel his energy to outer stimuli" -Carl Jung


For the purposes of this explanation, the Myers-Briggs types culled up for this essay will be INTP and ENTP. The main differences between the types are the attidues of introverted vs. extroverted thinking.

Introverted thinking in the INTP is characterized by abstract, theoretical constructions of reality which serve to the world for the individual. Introverted thinking is impersonal and scientific, it deals with abstract concepts created by modeling the environment at in its essence. For example, the INTP might characterize the outside world as immaterial and not worth getting into, and prefers to delve into theoretical insights far off from perception based reality, or of the senses. This makes the INTP aloof and detached-- with a tendency to be absent minded & unaware of his surroundings.

THe ENTP however is using his/her thinking preferences to define things in the outer world, yet they are colored by the intuition preference just enough so they dont because concrete performers. The ENTP is in touch with his surroundings at all times and tends to diffuse situations with wit and humor. These preferences are unconscious and represent deep ingrained personality traits.

The way for an INTP to become an ENTP is for the subject to channel his thinking proces to his immediate environment. This can be done consciously by defining stimuli that crosses the subject's path. In the INTP the subject is normally unaware of his surroundings because of his penchant for thinking of other things. If he were to start consciously defining his surroundings he would find himself in an entirely different world. Social interaction would now be a peice of cake, tension easily diffused by quick wit and observational humor.

When one is utilizing Extroverted thinking such as in the ENTP, word associations and memories flow from the unconscious freely due to his power of intuition. Introverted thinking is mainly concerned with theoretical abstracts and often oversimplifies the immediate environment. Consequently, the INTP doesn't know how to fit his abstract thoughts into social contexts.

As a condition of the two preferences, two different types of memory are used. In the INTP, the subject remembers his own thought processes the most and stores almost no enviromental cues except for a vague "atmosphere" feeling. Memories of own thought processes can get complicating if reason alone in the situation will not suffice.

The ENTP on the other hand remembers his environment in terms of obervations of connections between people and stimuli.

And that is about as abstract as I'd like to get.

sugar crushed, by sammy

i was going to write about being nostalgic for my childhood but i changed my mind. over the past few days i had been having intense urges to revisit aspects of my kinder years. i almost went to burger king and ordered a kids meal. i wanted to subsist on a diet of ice cream and fruity pebbles for a little while because i figured life didnt get better than being being drugged on sugar while not being able to consider or concieve anything going on outside of a 500 ft radius of myself. well now that i think about it, its kind of a naive position to take. you don't enjoy such indulgences so much if you never have to worry about them or limit them or compare them to anything outside of a mindless diet of rainbow bright video games, breakfast cereals and fruit drinks. pure sugar is flat, empty and dull. i want subtle sweetness.

Chinese Checkers, by Dominick

People seem to mistake linear thinking for intelligence. The "smart" person is nothing more than someone is is born onto the hole-ridden plane of a Chinese Checkers board, rightly aligned with a straight and narrow path to the other side. The "smart" person doesn't look for any other path other than the one in front of him--the one that appeals most to the senses and least to the natural human spirit and courage. He follows this path without straying. The player with the most soul and wit will find himself pitter pattering along the board in seemingly different and contradictory directions until he finds the path that seems the most right to him. It is more arduous, but more noble, more careless, but more fulfilling-- who knows what lies on the edge of cardboard playing board of our lives?

Album review: Blonde Redhead- Misery is a Butterfly, by Dominick

Bursts of yellow guitars envelope your surroundings as you switch on the track "Elephant Woman", filling every orifice in the vicinity with an orangish guey gauze, slightly dripping, only to be siphoned back out by the soothing nasal voice of Kazu, the group's resident nasally singer. The circular pattern of infusion, suction, infusion is repeated throughout the entire album. By the time you get around to the song "Melody" thick creamy chrome waves of melancholy bliss will be pounded against your skull, knocking at the door of your amygdala asking for entrance into the most inner sanctums of repressed thoughts and emotions; subsequently let these out, trample them and spew them across other parts of your brain presumably compromising Broca's Area and the frontal lobe. "Pink Love" will grab those old Valentine's cards you got in grade school from out of your disheveled desk, display them in front of you, and crank your eyelids open in a tremendous display of emotional agony.


"Messenger" is a French impressionist painting; if you look closely at it it looks as if it is nothing but a haze of scattered colors; stand back and you will run into a snooty museum curator. Under intense scrutiny, this album is nothing more than an updated Cocteau Twins effort with the heart-stopping vocals of Liz Frasier being replaced with two stuck up Italian brothers and their sushi eating friend. And theres nothing much at all wrong with that.

Lord this album is powerful. One needs to look only to the cover art and title (am I the only person who READS those things?) to guess what this album may have in store for you. This group featuring two (2) mammalian protuberances also puts on a hell of a great show. I saw them in the quaint Glasshouse in Pomona, California a year ago next week. This album's material was among the most beautiful things that could ever be pumped into your eardrums at 110 decibles. In fact, theres still a boil on my thigh that contains all of the energy absorbed by the performance. Bursting it will send me into a fit of existential depression that can only be cured by dipping my leg into the Well of Healing Blonde Redhead re rumored to have behind their recording studio. Now that is an activity best saved for a rainy day.

www.divshare.com%2Fdownload%2F3885039-9dd

A fun-filled, productive fiscal year pt. 2, by Dominick

peak performance come winter thyme. Creativity infused product management. Bottom-line interest malleability. Quality performance initiatives. Credit based stability. Sustainability leased fiscal handling. Firm-regulated supplements. Aided loss prevention. Business model potential layout. Headway through trust. Technical knowledge automation. Workflow layout publication competence. Retrieval assurance localization. Documentation documentation documentation. Streamlined marketplace poise. Reports on every quarter. Fiscal solubility quotient. Disclosure sales figures. Accident prevention resource. Employee stated satisfaction. Sequenced equity review. Graph based margins. Financial evolution stage.

Motivation, by Dominick

It is difficult to tell where a man gets his drive from-- either from his sense of inadequacy or sense of superiority. Certainly not through his sense of ambiguity though. There lies a free-floating nothingness.

Structures, by Dominick

We are the sum of our inconsistencies, contradictions, and past decisions. We are the lie we tell ourself every day. If we were too inspect our DNA close enough we would find multiple discrepancies which would only be remedied by death. Death and lies--the simple denial of these errors.

Every thought we think is built upon a foundation of previous thoughts and decisions. The mortar which holds this together is only as strong as a person's unwillingness to question his building materials and craftsmanship. What if we wanted to go back, and change the blueprint of a certain thought process in order to expand or destroy a certain wing of the building of our personality? What if we decided that we made a mistake, but the brick in which the mistake lies is too far down in the foundation? If we were too remove it we would fall like a Jenga puzzle being played by two patients in the Parkinson's wing of the hospital.

What if, at point b in our lives we are faced with a dilemma that can only be remied by having a certain brick at the mid sections of ourselves removed and replaced with another one of dubious quality? Lets say that in situation A, we need to resources to deal with a social situation we never handled before. Lets say that on July 21st 2008, you made a decision to add a brick to your facade that would only allow you to act in a certain way in situation a, and this method proved to be detrimental to your advancement in the situation as a whole? What you could do is try to remove that brick, and replace it with a more beneficial axiom. However, this brick has the weight of all the other bricks you've added from July 21 2008 to the present built on it. In order to change this aspect of yourself, you would have to go about with your chisel and axe modifiying the other bricks which are dependant on the strength it offers to the ones above it. It would be difficult to compromise the saftey of your whole persona.

Here is where our mortar comes in. Most so called "strong people" use a mortar that is so deceitfully powerful that they never question their engineer-approved structure. Lets say that the brick you placed in July 28th allowed for you to respond to certain stimuli in a negative manner. After this brick is placed, the mortar you use to justify it is "that stimuli doesn't appease me". However, that statement is not necessarily true and is more often than not a justification for the certain action you want to project. Existence precedes essence. We are faced with a reality and then forced to define it. If we now decided that in teh present we want to react to this certain stimuli positivley, we are now faced with the decision to change brands of mortar, that is to replace our justification with another one; a lie with another lie. The more astuley introspective you are, the more aware you are of this almost unconscious process.

The people that "get far in life" are the ones with the "strongest mortar".This is to say that they never question their own foundations. In this sense you are headed for a life that will bombard you with loads of stimuli and decisions but you will never ever crumble due to your strong mortar--your ability to lie to yourself--bad faith.

What if your whole towering, structurally sound building that everyone in society envies is built in the middle of a street or a park or a beach? Then what?


you fuck.

It is then reasonable to conclude that the most honest and thoughtful people crumble and fall under their own weight without a single soul caring as to their strife.

And End of an Era: The Nickel Nickel story

Originally written as a response to a post on columnist David Allen’s blog.

I worked at Nickel Nickel from Spring to late Summer 2006, when we eventually shut down.


When the place first opened I was in 4th grade so it must have been around the year 1999/2000. It was a really neat place for a kid because all of the games ran on nickels with a small entrance fee. As I got older and the games became boring, (it didn’t really have top-notch new games like you would find at Gameworks down south at the Mills) the real attraction was the free play games in the back; essentially old classic arcade games like Centipede, Mario Bros, Boxing, etc. Nickel Nickel eventually gained a local base of gamers who would come in regularly, and even some older gamers who heard about the classic games.


Around late 2005, early 2006 the original owners sold it to the final owners (names withheld) and some major changes took place because of it. First of all, they abolished the nickel system for an entry-fee free, (try saying that 5 times fast) to a more traditional system of 25 cent tokens. As you can imagine, this was pretty radical and managed to alienate a large portion of the customer base that the arcade had built since it opened up. In defense of the newly reinstated system though, there was a deal so that if you bought a certain number of tokens it became buy one get one free, and without the entry fee it worked out to be almost the same as with the nickel system. However, when you explain this to customers you find out that making people think only makes them angrier, and filled with an intense desire to shoot you up in a game like "House of the Dead".

My best friend was the manager when I worked there and we both hated the state the arcade was in-- abandoned, slow, and lacking the atmosphere that it used to have. We decided to do something about this, and set about forging a New Era in the Nickel Nickel arcade. At time when the place was nearly dead, me and my friend would have competitions in the Basketball free-throw shot game and invited curious customers to try and beat us and win tokens. This was great fun and we made friends who would come back frequently just for this purpose. One of my favorite memories of this is of a middle aged man named Ramon. This is the only guy who would give me and the manager a run for our money in Basketball; by this time we were experts, sinking 40-50 shots in a minute. Whenever he came in it was an event with the aura of an informal contest as people would gather around and watch the spectacle. Most of the time we were using the tokens we could just grab from the counter as we would play for quite some time. Ramon would then buy us dinner at the Juan Pollo in the same shopping center in retribution. We didn’t really mind because he had is 3 kids in there spending loads of cash on the ticket games (by the way, they’re NOT worth it if you were wondering). Another favorite memory of mine was the local employees at the then Sav-ons, now CVS. When it was particularly dead and on our breaks, we would buy some of those cheap Arizona iced teas (most likely given to us at a "discount", I never looked at the receipts but I know drinks shouldn’t cost 30 cents) and shoot some pool on the new tables we just got in.



Despite the new friends and determination on the part of me and my friend, Summer 2006 was a horrible time business wise for Nickel Nickel. I remember getting sent home early because we had no customers in over an hour. In a succession of brilliantly planned business maneuvers, the owners decided to take out the legendary free-play games in the back (where’d you get that business degree, Chaffey?) because there was no longer a entry fee. They were pushed in the back storage room where they did nothing but rot and get played occasionally at closing time late nights when we were sick of mopping.



By September, we got the inevitable news that the place was shutting down, which didn’t really surprise any of us but was still hard news to bear. The logical thing to do was to have a few late night parties in the children’s party room which led to some of the older employees frantically trying to rid the place of the stench of hookah smoke in time for opening, a hilarious sight. The hardest part of it all was telling the familiar faces that the place was closing its doors forever. When it finally did, it was the end of an era. A dynasty that was founded upon a radical idea that a kid could go into an arcade and play outdated games with change his Mom gave him for cleaning his room or found triumphantly under a couch cushion; a refuge from the blistering Summer heat proudly displayed in triple digits LCD numbers on the bank sign just north of the store like some sort of twisted contest Satan would hold in his den, a place where an underground economy based on basketball free throws and fetid chicken from Juan Pollo flourished...and in its place an empty building where 90 db+ sounds stopped assaulting the walls for good.

Farmer, by Sam

Ill tell you about Farmer. He was tall but grounded by an enormous gut and a swath of curly, matted fire that wrapped around the back of his head when he rode his motorcycle. I think he really wanted company so he told us he had moonshine. We followed him inside his mashed together trailer and into the junkroom/kitchen where he pulled a water jug not filled with water from the fridge and poured us a decadant styrofoam cupfull. First inhalation fumed up inside my nostrils drugging me before i could even taste it while he sat anxiously bobbing his nervous knees up and down asking how i liked it. I slid a purifying sip into my mouth and passed it along. All of a sudden he got up and pointed at the ceiling and wall across from me "i'll show ya the titties." The spots suddenly glowed on the walls: little fist sized reddish pairs of breast imprints like dots on wallpaper with curly, typical feminine signatures underneath. He pointed almost everyone of them out to us individually as if each one was special. I almost felt sorry for him for a moment then I realized that i was being stupid. Maybe one day I'll be as unashamed as Farmer.

Apartment Punks, by Dominick

After an exhausting and unforgettable show featuring Upsilon Acrux, Sleeping People, Yip Yip, and The Locust one night at the now-closed venue of the Showcase Theatre in Corona, a nagging, punkish girl with a slightly more disheveled-than-most look came up to me and asked "Do you think you can give me and my friends a ride home tonight" I glanced at my cell phone, it read 12:00 am in stagnant, green LED numerals.


I had the inkling that her kin were the grungy folks sitting outside the venue before the show started, yelping "hey you got any money so we can get in the show? We like the same bands you like!"


I really did not take a liking to their whole shitch, but I respect them as the bare-bones idealists that they were. Obviously, they were dirt poor, and I wasn't the least bit surprised to hear them harp about hitching on trains, "spenging" ( a concept that will be touched on later), and other facets of a life that prioritizes little more than catching the latest 80's anarcho band (past their prime) playing at the local venue thats about to get closed due to fire safety issues; a life that places no higher value than adhering to a strict vegan diet (though I'm sure they sneak the occasional rat or two) and wearing all black with an oversized Conflict patches on your spectacularly tattered jacket. Overgrown kids hiding from their mommies and daddies and as a result obtaining bad dental hygenie. You have to give them credit though--not many people are willing to display their gods in such a fashion, or even in their own fashion (sense). My Lord my writing style is annoying tonight.



Now me being a pansy subruban youth in comparison, and at this point in my life awkward also, decided to consult my friend in the matter. I had to leave the starry eyed girl in the parking lot in suspense. We both decided it was a bad idea to extend past my curfew too much since I was on bad terms with my dad. We also both decided that we should check out any signs that these people might mean trouble, and what we could discern about them from their appearance. Other factors that we had to deal with was whether they would all fit in my car, and other technicalities. Both of us being ruthless over-analyzers finally gave up our game and decided to just take them. They seemed friendly enough.


I make my way back over to where they are stationed at. THe whole lot of them is now gathered. "Lets go" I said. They were surprised in their pre-destined manner. Manor. One of them had a large black bag which contained all of his possesions--think of it like a "punk" version of a bindle. Strapless, pocketless, just a black piece of cloth rolled up into a cylinder like a can of string beans. Black beans would more accurate actually. Like a can of black beans.

People spheres, by Dominick

Sometimes when I get bored, I like to observe people's sphere's. Everyone has one. They are visible only to the trained eye. You see, people exist in a world of their own creation, or as Robert Anton Wilson would say "Reality Tunnels". One can see how another human looks at the world by observing certain mannerisms, eye movements, and other peculiarities of body kinetics. You can tell an angry man's sphere by noticing that he always looks down, avoids eye contact with other humans, is constantly bobbing his head around as if he is being attack by some invisible pests. The way you determine the visual sphere is by taking the range of motion and the sum total of all of these movements, and form a mental imagine in your head on 3-d graph paper. And tada, your people sphere.

Naturally if you are in your own sphere, as mostly anyone is, your perception of other people's spheres will be skewed. This is due to your own unconscious binding to your own spherical limitations. Think of it as us from Earth observing the orbits of the other planets in the Solar System. Early astronomers were perplexed by Mars and other planet's apparent retrograde motion across our sky. This is of course because we are moving also, but in a totally different orbit.

Now, if you were to suddenly "break free" of your own sphere, you would be free to observe the normal people around you's spheres. Breaking free is not an easy thing to do. The way in which I do it is by consciously widening my peripheral vision and immersing myself in the environment. In this way you are becoming somewhat omnipotent, but it can put some strain on your mental abilities. You get a sense of being "taller" than everyone else as you break free from your own sphere. Now at last you can observe people as they really are, either as menacing, shy, anxious, pre-occupied, etc. This of course can provide you with hours of enjoyment and entertainment.


So the next time you feel like laying down on the train tracks and calling it a day, think to yourself, I could be watching people's sphere's instead!


fin.

Album review: The Durutti Column- LC, by Dominick

The Durutti Column's 1981 effort, LC features the finest snow covered iceicle-laden music ever created by an eskimo in search of a place to lay down in and die in vain. The organic, blue-grey lushness of mist this album produces cannot be replicated by any other force of nature other than this creature. When your stereo is forced to play back this album, crispness will cut the air and send you into a swirling vortex of majestic and freeing harp like repetitive guitar motiffs with a sharp, biting, ever-present 80's drum machine pulsing through the mix like a warm heart being held under the ice of Antarctica. Vin Reilly's voice is a distant spirit whispering into your ear from the trees above the tundra. "The Act Committed" thrusts you into air-conditioned hallway of endless doors from which you must choose at your leisure and discover the riches within.


This album will take you places. Places in your mind that only the Cocteau Twins and My Bloody Valentine in all of their splendor hinted at existing. If any of this sounds at all appealing I suggest find this album and




My word, look what just fell out of my pocket!

http://www.sendspace.com/file/ywymb8

A fun-filled, productive fiscal year, by Dominick

The in which we look at things in the Corporate Environment need to be fundamentally changed. I am working hard, and achieving those goals. Accounting is a virtue in which all others stem from. There are many mergers to be acquired. You are now entering Customer Country. Business is a gamble. Interconnectivity is attainable. Systems analysis solutions for broad basedcoupling. Swift dispersion from point of departure. Being optimistic it can be done. Investors are nature's equalizers. Capital income takes labor. Statistics can only teach us what we know. The customer is actually our-stomer. Charts are only half of the picture come evaluation period. Meetings are a cornerstone for investor unity. Diversification leads to wider margins. Cash-flow analysis. Assets aren't asinine. Acquisition acquisition acquisition. Systematic upkeep of the infrastructure. Accountability is to be desired. Level-headed decisions. Top-down thinking. Decisive maneuvers in the business field. Featured key note speakers. Idea-centered learning. Leadership flexibility. Organizational management. Team-building strategies. Enterprise potential. Marketing power. Network databases.




There is much cleaning to be done.

A way to neutralize yourself part 2. by Dominick

Read up on Carl Jung's concept of the unconscious. Start analyzing your own behavior using his methods to a point in which it becomes positively unproductive in your American Life.

You are now cleansed.


alternative method: Take Prozacs.

A Way to Neutralize Yourself, by Dominick

Concentrate. Close your eyes. Wait, read this first.

Any thoughts or aspirations that you have right now, I challenge you to look at them from another perspective. Take one thing that is really bugging you or is going through your mind right now, but is something too personal or seemingly insignificant to share with anyone. Now imagine yourself telling someone close to you this, preferably someone who doesn't always agree with you. Now, imagine the other person's reaction to what you have revealed and what they may think of it. Take on that viewpoint as your own.


Your dreams have now been killed. Have a nice day.

The time when I ate so many coffee beans I began my asshole became a perculator, by Dominick

Last summer, I had the great fortune to invent the delightful culinary masterpiece known as “coffee beans and chocolate chips. The recipe for this is as follows: Obtain really dark roasted coffee beans, pour into a bowl until the clicking on the porcelain bowl starts to sound like some tap dancing little girl overseen by her presumptuous father on the streets of Hollywood, stop, then add enough chocolate chips until your Caucasian bowl is overrun by the raw power (cue Iggy Pop) of a thousand black slaves mutinying against their oppressors.

There.

Proceed to eat the contents of the bowl until the dead and mangled, white corpses are all you can see.

And count to one, two, three hours.

Run to toilet. Put coffee pot in toilet until it is bobbing forlornly like a buoy in San Pedro Harbor. Let the great experiment begin!

You now have we we in the colonies call: coffee de vida. Coffee of life, from life. The only coffee machine not powered by a cold electrical outlet, but the beating heart of a human, the only coffee to have be ground by the decaying incisors of a lonely homo sapien-- the only coffee as black as the souls that conceived it, the only coffee Richard Nix-


I hope you brought your mugs!

How we die, and how we don't even realize it, by Dominick

Man can only endure so much torture until he finally gives in and identifies with the opinion of his oppressors. This is due to the psyche's need to protect itself from total emotional overload. We will justify any belief system through different ways that are beneficial to our own mental health, but have no basis in reality. We are so selfish by nature that if we were to act out on all of our desires, we couldn't function. Our desires and wants are killed by ourselves because society cannot sustain or fulfill them all. Over the course of a lifetime our ideals that we once held so dear begin to wane and we don't even realize it. We eventually will reach a point where we are so jaded that any moral dilemma or situation that used to be a complex and emotionally charged process in our youth, will be reduced down to a rationalization such as “that is human nature” or “some people are like that”. Art loses its meaning. Culture loses its meaning. The death of ourselves is by our own hands.

This is to protect ourselves from the constant emotional stress that we are putting on ourselves to live up to how we think the world should be. Eventually one caves to the pressures of the world and we look back 10, 20 years to the past to realize that we no longer care about anything but procreating , looking after our family and blindly following natures way so a new generation might do the same thing, and hopefully only make 1/1000th less mistakes than the last so that we may go on living a somewhat bearable life, find probably one mate, fucking them and then dying.

/sips kool-aid