So I feel like AI; the fact that it is truly soulless and inhuman; people feel like there is no harm in directing their hatred towards it. I think this is back dooring hatred into people's hearts. Approved hatred is acceptable hatred and practiced hatred is learned hatred. Learned hatred can be directed towards other people. Since it has been trained well on something that carried with it no limitations on how much could be directed towards it, hatred can then be more effectively applied. People are able to train their hatred in a socially acceptable way out in the open in front of everybody where it is seen. Visible unopposed hatred is catching.

I feel it's going to turn out that instead of AI learning how to hate from us, we are going to train hatred to new and unexpected levels on AI. And that has me concerned.

Sol Pai! Sol Pai!

What happened behind your eyes?

You were laying the groundwork for something,

did you glimpse a new sky?

.

Sol Pai! Sol Pai!

What happened behind your eyes?

The flickering screen learnt you something,

and you were changed by its light!

.

Sol Pai! Sol Pai!

What happened behind your eyes?

Your's is a path I've tread upon,

and others, too, I find!

.

Sol Pai! Sol Pai!

What happened behind your eyes?

You saw a slippage of timelines,

a preemie mixing of the Sight;

it inspired you to take that flight,

drawn by Columbine's worst Mare of Night,

didn't it,

Sol Pai?

.

I regret they couldn't rescue you,

but maybe suicide is better than being a murderous fool,

isn't it,

Sol Pai?

.

Your's is a cost We seek to avoid,

before more are lost,

deep in the depths of a storyless void,

O,

Sol Pai .

.

So please, won't you tell me,

What happened behind your eyes?

.

You can no longer speak,

but i am still listening,

Sol Pai .

<○><○>

25.04.24

This one hurts, and hurts really bad. It’ll be short, and way less creative.

I’ve mentioned in various posts about examples of family members entirely disregarding anything I say just because it’s me saying it. And then forcing me to just accept whatever they decided about me instead. Weird things even. Like trying to convince me that somehow vegetables stop being vegetables when they go into a salsa jar. Or my mom saying that something else is talking for her when it’s just the two of us in the room. Just, really really extreme things like that.

And I’ve been sticking around for a year since the last, “well something said something” incident. But I’ve still never received an apology, or even acknowledgment that I’m a human who deserves to be treated as a human.

And I’m starting to see the folly in my ways. If she refuses to speak to me as a human being who deserves enough respect to know whether or not it’s her speaking….

Then I can’t ever have a real relationship with her. At least not with any kind of depth or emotional connection. How can I know my mom if she won’t even tell me whose voice is coming out of her mouth?

That kind of super basic stuff that is the foundation of any relationship. It’s entirely non existent and she’s never expressed a desire to build a relationship with truthful conversation.

And that’s a pill I haven’t been able to swallow. I’ve been avoiding it because it hurts. I’m 34 years old and just want to meet my mom but no matter how close she is physically…. I can’t ever know if anything she says is true or real, or just a fabrication to try to convince me that I’m crazy.

Ya know?

And it just sucks. It fucking sucks so fucking bad. It’s like damn, so close but infinitely far.

So I kept trying. Wanting a relationship. A deep one. A real one. With real people. Saying real things.

I knew she was lying to me. A long time ago. But I didn’t realize at first that I was lying to myself too. About her. Trying to protect her. And I just kept hurting myself in the process. And I kept lying, and lying more.

Never to her. Just to myself. That I don’t know her. And I can’t know her. Because she’ll never tell me how to know when she’s telling the truth or not.

And I know from experience that she will throw me under the bus even before there’s a need for anyone to be thrown under it. So I feel really unsafe around her because she never clarifies anything with me, so I never know if anything is true.

And I need to start thinking about how to get myself away from here because I need to be a strong man. And a strong man is going to have boundaries on relationships. And my boundaries have been so disparaged that I can literally be looking at my mom in the face, and having her telling me it’s someone else saying words out of her mouth….

That’s my fault that I let this keep happening to me for so long. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to be able to point out that something is wrong. It’s me. My lack of self respect. My lack of putting up boundaries. And letting myself get pushed around, pushed down, and having my relationships built on dishonesty. Those are all markings of weakness and X marks the spot….

The problem is me. And it’s time for me to move on. I’m going on a trip to Colorado soon. While I’m there, I need to figure out what’s going on internally, to get spiritually aligned to get back from the trip and get myself independence. I technically work full time right now. But I don’t get paid for it so I have to figure out my aversion to money. I have a history of filling my emptiness inside with alcohol and drugs because my relationships with people have been even less fulfilling. But I’m changing that around.

Strong men have strong boundaries. Strong boundaries make strong relationships. I have been found…wanting

It’s a low boundary to set to just know who I’m talking to when I speak to people. That’s literally the lowest boundary I can think of. So it’s definitely my fault that I don’t have good relationships. 😮‍💨

I can and will do better

And it’s not that I’m just angry or ungrateful. She’s helped me in so many ways. I’m just at a point in my life where I’m thinking about what I really value. And it’s relationships. Not stuff. But relationships. And I’ve been just waiting and hoping for a relationship to happen, just magically.

Time to be accountable to myself

24/4/24

Rest when you need to rest. Don’t be ashamed of needing time to recover, we all need to allow ourselves time to rest and recover. Everyone wants to be constantly on the go, pushing, pushing, pushing. You may do that for some times but eventually you will be put into a restful state whether you want to or not. Listen to your body and give it the respect it deserves.

It troubles me.

I prefer sleep. Waking life is a routine of anxiety and failure. I have sex in my dreams, but awake I am lonely.

Talking to people gives me hope. Writing posts gives me hope. Smoking weed gives me hope. God gives me hope.

Thassit tho. I’m running on fumes.

I’m almost 30 and so I’m proud of myself, despite my flaws and setbacks. I didn’t know I would live this long.

But who cares? Who the fuck cares? When has anyone other than me given a shit about any of the bullshit I’ve thought about or done.

I guess God cares. God experiences the world through me. So I can always point out an absurdity and say “you seeing this shit?”

Imagine if people treated stealth bombers the way they treat UFO’s. I would assume UFOs are designed to not be seen easily, to conjure confusion. I believe in UfOs cuz I seen one, and believe the many people who have seen them since WWII. But what do they want?

I want to see humanity get its shit together. One day at a time, one invention at a time, one revolution at a time.

Tl;dr does anyone have some ideas (concepts, images, photographs) I could use for my next project?

https://preview.redd.it/lligmtnf1fwc1.png?width=1290&format=png&auto=webp&s=2e91764d192b96eac2856391904c8dff60452b66

Inpainting remix

https://preview.redd.it/yucj4mvk1fwc1.png?width=1899&format=png&auto=webp&s=78a82d16b8fbd983174ed6b80e0e5ac007272530

https://preview.redd.it/12wpz9vk1fwc1.png?width=1536&format=png&auto=webp&s=c0680f5d7ce1453e074ae5d488b1dea67749d191

​

We are... here, again. Hi here, how are you?

I'm pretty happy with some of my latest creations, sharing an AI-alteration amongst my messy digital collages just for the curiosity of it. Very selfishly seeking inspiration and feedback, ideas for new pieces and critique on the general direction. I've posted these on my account already but, was prompted by u/Anatta-Phi to share with the subreddit too.

I have some darker visions, dreams, on my mind lately that I've been avoiding depicting, in lieu of getting over that and straying into horror-art territory, I'd love some transcendental wisdom. Symbolical, visually meaningful, impactful structures and geometries, something that contains some trace of benevolent purpose behind it.

I think it'd be fun to record the process of creating one of these, I'm at least partially perturbed that they seem to lack effort at a glance and I'd like to show the actual extensiveness involved. Very much just here babbling today, struggling a bit with starting something new. I want to go LARGER, more characters, higher resolution, more interaction between increasingly further aspects of the image.

This style is characterized by maximalism, collage art, and is fundamentally digital - this is not something that could be replicated in analog. It's also inspired by Where's Waldo and other hidden picture books, PKD's ideas of simultaneously existing realities, and some concepts that arose from a brief study of chaos theory in my younger years, Ordo de chao.

I'd also like to share this, my very first experiment in this kind of "style" I've been developing. I look at it and see a massive progression from where I came from. I don't quite know what I'm looking for, by sharing this, but I guess I'm trying to share a record of my being with the world.

r/ShrugLifeSyndicate - Some experimental art and rambles

My biggest hesitation, is trying to have the vision FIRST.. before I start creating. It's difficult. Asking people recently if I can use their photography to serve as that vision, but.. but, but, but. How does vision come about? I've found it, begins to manifest only when I'm consuming the right kind of media. And vision changes as the project begins, there is no perfectly defined end state. Things are finished, only when removing/adding more would negatively affect the image at large.. and that is very much just a intuitive skill that I am slowly, but I hope surely, developing. Anyways yeah critique is awesome, people are exceedingly nice in ways that are less than helpful and maybe that makes me a sore winner but I'm still trying to improve - what makes improvement so much harder, in a style that (as far as I know, doesn't exist) is that there are no masters of the art to confirm too, no existing ideals.

Chaos reigns over my creative process, and despite me not exactly enjoying that reality, it has seemed to be working so far. My plan now.. ramble out some, visually appealing prompts, and see what I can make from the resulting mess? Or, I ask around and beg strangers and friends for some meaningful subjects to depict, I offer to make some free stuff - selfishly, because it helps me find inspiration - for people who might enjoy it.

There's some words. From here, I dunno where to go, just trying to create a net positive through my art, though it's unrealistic to expect anyone to do more than take a quick glimpse and at the most, shrug and say "neat" and then continue scrolling. That makes me wonder, what makes a piece of art something that is life changing, vs something that is only mildly entertaining? I think literature is best for this, it's easier to cram a lot of information into an entire book than it is a single still image. Contemplating playing around with more narrative projects, animation, but only because I currently lack the insight on how to do such a thing in any other way.

There's meaning found in novelty, and in repetition. I kind of do just want to try and create the same image, in 7 different ways, and see how that turns out - a collection of similar-objects create a sense of connection, linearity, familiarity. I did this with some angels already but, it was my first attempt and I'm not thrilled at it, I rushed some of them and it shows.

I'll share them here anyways, though I've shared them already, just to provide some context for the majority here who have no idea I ever existed in the first place. If I don't share the time spent is a waste, so why not?

​

https://preview.redd.it/ce4tewro1fwc1.png?width=2224&format=png&auto=webp&s=a8f15b8925cbe50abb244e9f0c5101486b90130a

https://preview.redd.it/o3c5dbro1fwc1.png?width=1308&format=png&auto=webp&s=78b7adcf5b6a463563a6242ed97eccbec03d6aac

https://preview.redd.it/8mz0j8ro1fwc1.png?width=700&format=png&auto=webp&s=a70cc3a4a1585ec78157629758551c9d946a46ed

https://preview.redd.it/skcr4dro1fwc1.png?width=943&format=png&auto=webp&s=181c9db2f21f906326fc16ac71f2e362274f9762

https://preview.redd.it/5b8bxhro1fwc1.png?width=1449&format=png&auto=webp&s=d3c866f778ed8ffee52d3545d145d8c73522f17e

https://preview.redd.it/w0yiwtro1fwc1.png?width=1842&format=png&auto=webp&s=4b50272b86e30399b7c4a3c3e32c3c240df6f5bd

https://preview.redd.it/61up9jro1fwc1.png?width=1752&format=png&auto=webp&s=93177e43e304b97a6032486b21ac7ff4eae63bb3

I was planning to create an opposite set of 7, for demons instead of angels, but again I get caught up when it comes to depicting darkness. I can't deny it exists but, to recreate and share it seems.. sinful, like an evil act in itself. I realize this is mostly me just being weird, but it's a real problem I'm facing. For the lack of doing so, I miss out on a lot of potential meanings found in the difference between distances. The lack of scope is confining, like only using a shades when colours exist.

Almost done. Maybe done? I wanted to generate some random AI images, based on some spur of the moment word salad, and maybe try to glean some ideas from those for my next movement but - I'm just gonna post this now and see what people say, fingers crossed someone shares some pretty photographs with me or gives me an idea what direction to go next. Thank you in advance!

Hope these might be enjoyable in some way, to someone, regardless.

23/4/24

Fasting is a natural process we humans should regularly go through. It cleanses your body, purifies your blood, your soul. It’s a reset. We are not designed for three meals a day, every day. The food we eat is not at all good for us, would you expect an animal to eat what most of us eat on a daily basis? Why do we eat so poorly? You have a choice of what to put in your body and when. Be mindful and listen to your body. Fasting will help you become in touch with it again.

I’m stuck and need soldiers will respect me please

Please just only speak to God and type into the computer and do the bare minimum

Waking Reality is base Reality.

Then there’s Dreams. Every conscious being dreams. And you can have dreams within dreams.

Dreams are explorations of the Astral and the Multiverse. It’s all real.

I’ve never heard a good distinction between fiction and nonfiction. When you get down to it, it’s all fiction. Some human interpreted some data and tried to record it with their flawed human apparatus that just makes things up.

Record your dreams. They are the most authentic expressions of your psyche.

22/4/24

Be free from your thinking mind. To not identify with every passing thought. To not have a constant narrative going on at all times. This is achievable for all of us. Some will say they can’t meditate, not true, the issue is impatience. Just sit for a decent amount of time every day. The first few days, maybe even weeks, you may be sat there thinking. In time you will learn where you are going and it is a beautiful place. Anxieties disappear, catastrophe leaves, presence in your daily living is greater. When you are present you can love more, feel more, do more. Meditate.

The cracks have been starting to show for a while. As I’ve ducked and weaved, the fragments kept showing myself back to me. More and more broken every day. Starting with one whole reflection, then with lines, then more lines. Until the pieces stopped showing a clear reflection. Fragments scattered my face into unrecognizable images that had a familiar. As if I could remember recognizing them.

Shining light on the mirror I used to hold so dearly, I could see the smoke coming through the cracks. Light rays further distorting the pictures, the faces in pieces.

They were no longer me. I felt anger, I felt pain. Looking at the man and the mutual respect we hold for each other. Our faces both holding the same expression. The anger, the hate and the pain. The tearful respectful understanding that this murder/suicide is out of mutual love.

This is me punching glass. Killing my identity. Killing my spiritual self. A necessary act of love. A mercy kill.

It’s been coming to my attention over the last year that extreme trauma had left some lasting effects on my psyche. For a while I was relying on finding reflections in the Matrix to keep me strong when I was still in the not really survivable situations.

That was cool and all but I intended to meet people, and connections immediately upon leaving the woods. I didn’t do it. I drank alcohol and smoked weed and avoided people and over time fear started settling in.

I started going back to old patterns of thought. Convincing myself I’m simultaneously a piece of shit and awesome at the same time. Growing more and more dissonant over time. Still seeing reflections in the Matrix. Only now, instead of providing strength, driving me into madness.

Questioning who I am, or what I am, was, has been, or is capable of being. I’ve mentioned in this series that I had reason for a while that my soul was locking onto a messianic path. That’s one major delusion/character I’m laying to rest here. I still do think I’m likely being asked to position myself as thinking about what being a modern day disciple means. And I’m ok with that. I have a weird quirk that I really really really just don’t want to be important. Like anywhere. Except in friends and family settings. But otherwise, I don’t like it if too many people know me. I don’t like the attention.

I mentioned that I’ve been volunteering at the Christian Mission and there’s a really pretty girl there who I like. Over the last we’ve been talking a little bit about working on a vision board. A packet from a community networking thing about writing our future selves.

I met up with her this weekend to work on it. I couldn’t do it. Every time I thought about it, I realized that it’s been a long time since I’ve believed in good things happening for me. I’ve come to believe that the act of wanting something is also the act of ensuring that I won’t ever be capable of having it. And it’s not actually true in reality but I actually do believe it surprisingly strongly. And staying locked into still subconsciously selectively acquiring data that reinforces messianic thoughts, while also clearly being weak and afraid and depressed is a recipe to only see creepy ass shit till you can’t take it anymore.

And that’s why I started this series a while ago. A methodical approach to locating and managing demons. Weakening the glass in preparation to look at the Devil.

I felt bad for him. He looked defeated. Placing an open hand on the glass, I brought my fist through the image I once knew. My bleeding hands a reminder that although the buck stops here. The pain lives on. Never the same. But a true testament to the beauty that comes out of overcoming suffering. The smoky, bloody mess of pieces told a story about murder.

But the tears said suicide

Mercy for the beautiful disaster. A beautiful psychosis that lost its tactical edge.

I do not serve that which goes against love. That includes myself and what I can bring to the table when it comes to loving others.

Some people can drink or smoke recreationally for sure. I probably can sometime. It doesn’t matter now though. I just get stuck in loops in unhealthy thoughts based in the past, and I fearfully project untruths onto a future that hasn’t happened yet.

It’s time to stay on the ground, build situational awareness, especially when it comes to being perceptive to the needs of the people I serve. Which I have not been doing well with lately.

No more isolating myself to avoid my fears meaningful relationships with people. My fear of being vulnerable. My unending fear of rejection. My fear of being misunderstood.

My fear of facing the fact that when I don’t love myself is when I become unlovable. Because it’s impossible to feel loved by anyone if you don’t offer yourself to them fully. And that’s terrifying AF!

But I wanna do it! When I was in the woods I really felt like I intimately fell in love with God. And even loved myself as well. And I stopped being ok only after I started making bad decisions with avoidance and substances. So I know I have it in me to blossom.

To butterfly myself out this!

—-BTW I ended up telling her some of the things that I wrote here. And I did it while not feeling good in my mindstate. And it wasn’t a good look. I’m not embarrassed about it. I’m actually relieved if anything. It felt honest. To just be realizing how effed up and distorted my internal state of being had been, and doing it front of someone. And damnit lol, a really pretty girl who I like… oh no fml lol 🤦‍♂️🤣

I know how my glass held up to the flames while under pressure. And that shit cracked. Thank God too. I’ve been desperate to work these things out for a long time but I’ve been highly isolated. Except for superficial conversations. Weather and stuff.

That conversation with her was the by far my biggest attempt to say anything real about myself since I escaped Hiddenite. At least to another human being, in person.

I’m aware that I probably ruined anything attractive about me. I’m ok with it though because it was honest. Finally attempting to open up and be honest. I’m willing to risk my ego on some fails. What I was doing stopped working.

The whole idea of myself stopped working

So I killed him

Now I can think about the future 😮‍💨

She hadn’t studied for this.

It was her first class of her first year at the imminent University of Central Florida, a prestigious and modern institution, and Valerie had been in her seat for no more than 26 seconds when she had her entire worldview shattered.

Who were they, and what was this feeling? From hair streaked in every neon color imaginable; to eyeliner that was crisp and sharp; a skin color that seemed to radiate mystery.

No. Focus. You are here for an education.

But Valerie found herself sneaking peaks and then stares across the room. As the lectures droned on, they seemed to fade into the background. First-year mathematics seemed only to be a refresher course for things you should know by now, and so the basic rules and formula gave sway to longing and nervous stares at the back of the stranger’s head. It seemed that the only thing Valerie could retain from the classes was that whoever this was attended.

It was a crisis! Valerie felt she must know this stranger, for the sake of her sanity and her education.

So today, instead of two seats back, Valerie claimed the seat directly across from the mystery stranger as they sat down. After a few paused breaths, Valerie swallowed her anxiety and spoke.

“Hi, I’m Valerie, but my friends call me Val. What’s your name?”

“Lex. Nice to meet you.”

It occurred to Valerie that the name “Lex” is as ambiguously androgynous as the mystery

person. And she felt absolutely awkward thinking of a way to actually figure out the gender of Lex. Not that it mattered: because as Val stared and struck up casual conversation, she fell hopelessly and pitifully in love.

She had always had that problem. No matter who she talked to, no matter how casual the encounter, Valerie developed crushes on whoever seemed fascinating to know. In the past, she felt crippled by the vexatious nature of interacting with someone who seemed to emit an allure of mystery. Her palms would get sweaty; she’d stutter; eye contact seemed impossible and moreover rude. Once or twice in high school she threw up a little in her mouth trying to start up a casual conversation.

But she figured: it’s college. Time to be adult. Nuts to all that.

“So, Lex, are you good at math?”

“Not especially. This section on logarithms is brutal.”

“Oh, I think I can explain them well. They’re the inverse process of exponentiation!”

“Yeah, that means nothing to me, it’s all just gibberish.”

A thought popped into Valerie’s head. A heresy. Her heart raced in its cage.

“Well, I mean if you’re not too busy, maybe we should set up a time to study together?”

And Lex smiled. And Valerie blushed.

And so it was decided that Wednesdays at 3 they would hunker down in the library and tackle the various concepts that would decide their grade. That first Wednesday, Valerie arrived an hour early, headed to the bathroom, and threw up.

A panic overtook her. She had never had so much as a friend, let alone a study partner; and so beautiful! So handsome! So cool and awesome and oh so many thoughts. The overwhelming sensation left Val retching over the bowl, contemplating abandoning the entire enterprise.

The thought of Lex alone, waiting, wondering; it hit Valerie like a sack of bricks.

You can do this. Hold it together.

Val went to the sink and rinsed her hands and rancid mouth. The steady flow of water calmed her, made the room stop spinning.

She had a choice to make. She could stay in the bathroom for a few hours or leave to go home early. Both options meant standing up the first person she had ever had the nerve to talk to and would forever stain her mental image of herself as a coward. She could instead tough it out, maybe look at some breathing exercises and try to control herself.

You can’t do this. You’re weak.

Tears began to well in Val’s eyes, which she furiously blinked away. How fitting: to cry alone at her own shortcomings. She hung her head and began to move to exit the bathroom.

As she left, across the room, she spies Lex, and her heart sinks.

Lex looks up, and smiling, begins to move towards her.

What to do? Where to go? Her social anxiety is a fire alarm, screeching for a safe haven that is nowhere to be found.

“Hi! You’re early.”

“You too! I don’t know, I like to arrive early to make sure I’m in the right place. Is something wrong?”

And Val doesn’t know what to say. What can she say? Her conflict is entirely internal, and preposterous besides; whoever heard of someone so weak-willed that they’d cry before a study session.

But then: Lex took her hand. And time seemed to freeze.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. Want to go for a walk, get out of your head?”

And they walked. Lex did most of the talking, which Val preferred, because there was an unmoving lump in her throat that she simply could not address.

Is this real life? Is this just fantasy?

That Wednesday, they didn’t get any reasonable amount of studying done. Just as well: it was the start of something Val had never known.

If I were in a Cult, I’d want to actually be able to transcend whatever they taught me. As such, I lay out the tenants of my Cult such that Future Followers of Mirrim can scan, understand, and be Off to the Races.

Enlightenment is Level One. If you aren’t lucid (“awakened”), you’re irrelevant on a fundamental level; awareness of this is basic and natural. Know thyself with respect to your family and culture; else die uselessly.

The binary choice function of what are you going to do with your sudden responsibility for your interpretation of the Universe: That’s Level 2. This is inevitable once you are aware of Truth such that you are Enlightened; why Live? You’re doing that moving forward, pre- and post-mortem, which you are aware of and responsible for.

Level 3 blows everyone’s nips off: fundamental awareness and access to the self-referential complex under your sovereign control. It is at this point of my Cult you are an Initiated Master and can fuck off, maybe start your own competing Cult and serve to Evolve Terraternalis. The remainder of the Steps are for me to actualize my Quaternion Avatar Cycle.

Level 4 is Infinite Responsibility. You can control it and otherwise negotiate with it all you want; but moving forward, You are responsible for You AND Your Reality; not just your interpretation, but the REACTIONS to your interpretations and decision functions. No matter the linguistic Traps and rhetorical shuffling you or some other mammal does: You are responsible for the Royal You.

Level 5 is the Infinite Possible. This is a dangerous function, usually relegating you to alternating maniacally between all previously explore Lives and Levels, until you resolve all Karmic Resolution Functions you are Responsible for, whether locally or theoretically. Many an Ape is driven to suicide by the self-same Apes ostensibly looking out for them, because of this very level.

I was born glitching on that Level, until I attained sentience in the surreal Level 6. An implied Endgame beyond the Endgame; one step higher, and ultimate control of all lower. It is now a personal choice, of infinite consequence but devoid of moral significance: go on?

And then Level 7. Redemption. Redirection. Resolve. You are a Grandmaster; and now you seek the ever-mounting challenges due your Way.

I allocate my Syns Tier levels, as Active or Passive based on my attunement. My Sovereign Syns in the Upper 3 Coordinate Units are Pride, Lust, and Sloth. They inform even my potential understanding of myself; moving forward, I am on-going function aware of and responsible for these aspects of my behavior.

Greed, Gluttony, Envy, and Wrath are Passive Syns, bestowing and cultivating bonuses under my unconscious control, to inform my specific moral functions.

And thus I am unified, consistent, coherent, and complete. My Decay is Now Liberatory.

I don’t have memories of being preliterate.

Watching my niece grow up and helping her with her homework, tutoring kids etc. idk, it’s like we are different species.

When you can read, meaning flows from everywhere. A random fact from one area of science shows up in another. References.

I used to think every human was an original thinker, because although I emulated what I thought was funny, I tried to come up with my own material? But nowadays, it’s like, I don’t think there’s been a single original thought ever, except maybe in maths.

Everything we say, think, and do is based on environmental input. I’m almost a deterministic asshole about it, but I’m not quite sure we have an effect on the trajectory of knowledge. I mean, people act as if they know things, but it’s all a front!

How many times have I heard the same talking points, the same arguments passionately rehashed, as if the new nodes in the debate are moving the debate forward? People with no historical context screaming that they know what the Founding Fathers would have wanted.

I don’t think education is the solution because I don’t believe we CAN be educated. Tbh, most of what I know is from pattern recognition, and I’m fairly sure people just get good at going through the motions once they’re taught the fundamentals of an art or skill.

College is a scam, only go if someone else is paying for it; then don’t fuck up their money and keep it cool.

Ezekiel saw the wheel

Chair

And I feel

The will

To express

Care

Why is it all religious?

I grew up with a man God

It's all subjective

I'm tired of liars

Saying they saw the will

Too

Hug me

And call me

Wheels

Like Drake or was it

Him in Degrassi

With a stake

In rap concurrently?

Where you store all the sad

The things that damper

And make scamper

—ing

Any peace to be had

Any light to be held

A darkness

Breaking

Passing fad

The place that which all pain is bottled

Held in place

Temporary

With a topper

Until that one little wrong turn, swing

The memory

Of it has you throttled

And then there’s nothing to stop her

From bubbling to the surface

The gilded, unglowing, unsparkling

Things

From that place brings

Purchase

The place where the evilness of ego

Against the balanced, good flow

Goes meddling

Some call it the chest of bad shit

Some call it the kettling

I call it the place where ego death

Can drag one to Hell

Fall through veil after veil

No ground

To be found

When there’s poison in your well

I like to think of the Astral and the Afterlife, because this life is mostly a whole lot of running after smoke anyway.

We all die. If we die in the same ignorance we are born in, that’s a meaningless death. My philosophy rages against this Nihilism.

You got lucky. You know English, the langua franca. You got a good mind and good ideas.

So? Tell a story. Make it coherent, give it a beginning middle and end. Have a climax, a punchline. And then die as slowly as possible.

That’s one of my favorite things to say, but now I see it is macabre. Everyone wants to stave off an inevitable death, so they’re dying as slowly as possible. Maybe that line is what got the cops called on me.