I'm curious about the psychological dimensions of physical health. What makes uncrazy people hurt themselves? What makes education fail
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because we're going to die, all of us. and we know it. that's the human condition and toying with it, giving it the byrd, pretending and plotting and tiptoeing around it is all we can do. we only have power over it in these doses we give ourselves...it may be illusion, but what's a sister to do? consciousness is painful. oh, and all we really are is big machines built to serve our genes and sometimes.....well, it's all a bunch or bullshit, ain't it?
Sleek and white in your mouth, effervescent in your lungs. An elegant extension of your arm. Eternity burning between your fingers.
I am that sexy thing you do with your hands, steady at starboard, affirming your visible breath. In the soft night, a puff of you lingers and mingles with your comrades. My disciples, all.
It was never my intention to harm you.
I am the purest pleasure corrupted by greed. Obsession expressed in a chain of beautiful gestures and flicks of the wrist. Art succumbing to starvation.
I would take you back to the beginning, if I could. Restore you to joy. Your bright, sparkling breath released in a long, contented sigh. Your perfect fulfillment curling into the air.
I think that speeding up the process is a kind of control, like suicide is a kind of control. And even if you are a marathon-runnin'-organic-food-eatin'- non-drinkin'-non-smokin'-non-meat-eatin' person, an anvil might just drop on your head in the next two seconds, just like Bam! And everybody knows that we can stave it off, maybe, if we're lucky, but we can't prevent it, so we muddle along. And most cultures have had their ways of escaping reality, when they weren't too busy defending themselves or searching for food. But they just weren't so fortunate as we to live in a society where there are some tireless, kind-hearted souls who pack our smoothing-white-extra-strength-full-of-fiberglass-and-other-crap cancers into twenty-count packs so that they are oh so, so convenient.
This is what we TALK about so much in my humanitites classes. Knowing we're goin to die......
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Sleek and white in your mouth,
effervescent in your lungs.
An elegant extension of your arm.
Eternity burning between your fingers.
I am that sexy thing
you do with your hands,
steady at starboard,
affirming your visible breath.
In the soft night, a puff of you
lingers and mingles
with your comrades.
My disciples, all.
It was never my intention to harm you.
I am the purest pleasure
corrupted by greed.
Obsession expressed
in a chain of beautiful gestures
and flicks of the wrist.
Art succumbing to starvation.
I would take you back
to the beginning, if I could.
Restore you to joy.
Your bright, sparkling breath
released in a long, contented sigh.
Your perfect fulfillment
curling into the air.
Reply
Reply
I think that speeding up the process is a kind of control, like suicide is a kind of control. And even if you are a marathon-runnin'-organic-food-eatin'- non-drinkin'-non-smokin'-non-meat-eatin' person, an anvil might just drop on your head in the next two seconds, just like Bam! And everybody knows that we can stave it off, maybe, if we're lucky, but we can't prevent it, so we muddle along. And most cultures have had their ways of escaping reality, when they weren't too busy defending themselves or searching for food. But they just weren't so fortunate as we to live in a society where there are some tireless, kind-hearted souls who pack our smoothing-white-extra-strength-full-of-fiberglass-and-other-crap cancers into twenty-count packs so that they are oh so, so convenient.
This is what we TALK about so much in my humanitites classes. Knowing we're goin to die......
Reply
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