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Just when you think it couldn't possibly get any better, it does. Its split down the center of existence, the PRO and the ANTI. It's never going to be the same again. It's something to think every time you think. Does this life only serve to give birth to another life? And then a continuation of such? Am I horrible at thinking? Maybe not horrible ( Read more... )

"It's great that you were able to join us this evening ( Read more... )

Sometimes expressing creativity is like solving a puzzle. I hate using the word "sometimes" in writing. And fuck simile's. I suppose if I say fuck simile's then that also means fuck metaphors. And fuck journals. No one gives a fuck that you're going nowhere. A journal is like a big book of ego. Keep your friends close and your ego closer. What a ( Read more... )

It started with the word "vigorous." That's the way it feels sometimes, as opposed to all times, or not even at all. How can I be so far away during an experience I've waited so long to wonder about. A vigorous victory, an establishment of uncompromising duality. Two souls and sometimes three, no not souls, just different universes, I just like to ( Read more... )

For some reason I find ways to get lost in the beauty of the past especially with music. Guess movies too. Art and shit. I'm so proud of my genuine flexibility when it comes to appreciating music. I'm not just stoned ( Read more... )

I guess if you asked Jack about the sky he'd pretend not to hear you. Maybe he didn't hear you. You'd never know the difference. He had his own dream in mind, a non committed fracture of something bigger, and he aggressively explored it's secrets without flinching at observed expectations. His artistic angel loomed near, reminding him of his ( Read more... )

I'm not sure I have a dream anymore. Maybe I'm supposed to meditate or concentrate or focus harder. Maybe I'm supposed to try harder. But it still doesn't seem right. Just writing this makes me so mad. I had plotted my escape from simplicity for months and months, days and days, hours and minutes and sanity sucking seconds and still, nothing. I ( Read more... )

I could not conceive
of this new thing
whether the mind had rotted
settled in its noble display
at once symbolic in its symbolism
followed it down deeper
until it stood in its own way.
There is a window, a whisper
The chance for a new sight,
the truth has died it slipped on by,
the lie is just as right

The search for meaning has become a basic need. Water, Food, Sleep, Sex, And Why. What other purposes could life have? Only the exaggeration of other needs? Animalistic needs? Finding the beauty in simplicity? Of course I see the beauty in it. And the meaning. It's two things at the same time. Full and less. Meaning. However the life of simplicity ( Read more... )