Not to speak evil of the wisest of fools, but to focus on my self is to walk a razor’s edge between self-animosity and narcissism. Naturally, one will fall along both fronts, as is natural, and indeed useful to understand the rest of the souls that flit about in the wind, as well as your own. However, I don’t want you to see what I am, but rather what I am subjected to; in other words, what our world is. But the world is nonsensical, and therefore I must withdraw into my self to collect my thoughts, a futile attempt, for there is a reflection of that confusion there as well. Who can say that either is more problematic, more completely secure and simple: the whole of the situation or rather the pieces which comprise it? How is it that there is a greater sum than the addition of all these components separately?
Naturally, as it would seem, I over think and over analyze. Who decided that I should be subject to this undue stress is evil; I cannot understand things as they are, I need personal experience, or at least logic. I have such a difficult time communicating my ideas to others, for not only am I individual in most respects, I happen to be more intelligent also. Why? Why not, I must always retort. Is there really meaning behind circumstance, does there need to be a conspiracy behind every action and situation? I doubt it; statistics is where it all originates, in fate of the dice. In an infinite multiverse of infinite dimensions, any essence of a being is subjected to your condition.
Yes, as a brief tale, I was just another kid, even though my dad did own a company then, it wasn’t near the multimillion industries, and was apparently suffering from internal politics. So, in the third grade, the company fell, taking all we had with it: our impressive house, many cars, and my schooling, which was left behind as we went to California. Apparently it was the best decision of our lives, we bought a house at just the right time, after a short rental period there, and I went to Lakeside. It was not my favorite place, and when I finally left, I was rather happy. In fact, I was very upset when the Jr. High was announced to be part of it, as I was in the sixth grade then. I was furious, but there was a great other problem aside of this.
I had always gone to church, but this school did not exhibit the Christian attitude I was expecting, and as far as I could tell, it was worse than my original public schooling. I was very loathsome to this atmosphere of hypocrisy, and still am, because I don’t see Christians, I see people who are liars and hypocrites as they profess to be what they aren’t. But, I did gain this appeal to not be a hypocrite and actually try to be a good person, because I didn’t want to be like these people who didn’t understand me, accept me, or even be equal to me as far as I was concerned. So, there is a story behind the bitter old man that I show to those here.
The few people who did accept me became my friends, although as things stand, we are more casual than anything else, and to think back, I don’t know any truly close friends I’ve had. Just because we have always been buddies means nothing to me, well, not nothing, but it isn’t anything that keeps the anger and sadness far from my mind. And my parents, which have never faulted me anything beyond their mercy, cannot be considered in all circumstances and relationships. After all, they only fulfill the parts that they should, a commendable and often difficult outfit; because I don’t see myself as the best of sons, or even the best of persons, and they have done so much for me. But that golden standard is constant, it’s something I can and unfortunately have taken for granted; I want the affections of another. Of course, I do have my standards, which is never go for someone I cannot immediately tell is better than me, because it is better to have a constant remodel and friend than a consistent letdown or someone who is too malleable to your will and call. I have had this standard, despite the horrible things it has done to my spiritual, emotional, and social health, because it is the most sensible. I don’t want an equal, for I feel that someone in the relationship has to be submissive, and I do not want the role of a leader- I don’t rightly deserve it. I am an optimist, in the respect that it would be easier to find someone who you want to relate to and understand than to find someone who would want to understand and relate to you. So, on one hand, I need the initiative, but also I desire to help someone whom I know can help me, and that submissiveness that is required of that personage. I know that there is no woman worthy of control of me mind, body, and soul, if they desire the control of me, period. I cannot and will not put women above men in the respect that those who want the power should be the farthest from attaining it. So, just as I am submissive, she is not controlling or so easily taking me for granted. Yes, the true child of god is my subject, because I need that moral rudder, that consistent yet also human marker by which I can judge my distance.
I am who I am because of the two different shades of people that I can be seen in: the red shade and the teal shade. Just kidding!! No, really there is the thinker and the romantic, not much room for anything more than these two halves. There is always the desire for peace, but so little can be both aspects simultaneously. That is my holy grail, a person that can be the other, so that I don’t have to choose anymore, and constantly be wrong. All else is detail beyond my scope of my concern. Somewhere though, there has to be a person fitting of that particular place left for my life. I have already found three potential people, and all the rest out there I haven’t yet found, but there should be a match, shouldn’t there?
To elaborate in a more proper setting, there is a person, and there is a brain. I am the brain, but as I wrote most of this rubbish (see above) I was the person, just trying to relate myself to others, the one who relies on faith in people; what a poor, idiotic bastard. I almost feel sorry for him… well almost. What happened, happened, but seeing as we are joined by the head, we often see things similarly. It is all about us, a completely selfish quest to be of some use to someone, to justify our existence to more than just the two of us, although he often feels that there is only one of him, he disregards me. But I would rather he were right, he is a nuisance and did I mention an idiot? Oh yes, I know there is only a distinction the way I see it, but the difference is a lot clearer from the inside out.
All love is love of the self; he often disregards this simple understanding, one only envies and lusts after the attributes that another is equipped with, and all attachments made to the person as an edifice are merely distortions of reality, it is shorthand for what is really happening. For example, he wants humility, discipline, indeed slavery in turn for love, an idea so immersed in mythology and superstition that one is never really sure if it exists, and sadly, people are willing to disregard everything when it comes to the benefits of this school of thought: that the entire universe exists out of love. I know the practical bits of the lessons, while he memorizes details and specifics. I know, that for example, people without love are blind, hopeless schizophrenics, or they are at least incapable of dealing with others, while he knows, purportedly from experience, that, “love heals, controls, and hardens a boy into a man.” Hey, remember, this is what is out there, this is the kind of propaganda that women use all the time to continue their underground communist system (it is more proverbial than not), the ruling party to stay being the feminist one. I would have to agree with Bill Maher on it.
Also, people are in love with the ideology and security of a god, but more often than not, they do not actually want to abandon their person, worthless as it is, and transform into the being that their dogma commands of them. They want to believe either that god exists as the Bible says he does, believe in some perverse rendition of this, or in humanity. All these systems are worthless, because at the place of greatest influence, the person, the ground is soft and pliable. You can churn this dirt, but the surrounding area remains unaffected, because the human personality and mind is not as hard as some would love to believe. All of it focuses on humanity: love, life, and god. I don’t think that historically it has been about anyone else except us humans; all I understand is that we have become less delusional about this ideal, since the Renaissance era. However, while this does seek to highlight the basic problem of society, they only attack the school of thought, not put themselves under rigorous criticism, so, we have inadvertently created a reliable scapegoat, while the real perpetrator of perpetually problematic people goes on living without his just desserts.
Yes the self, a gulf of craving which is infinitely deep and infinitely wide, and the merging of persons into a larger whole is just their passive attempts to devour one another. However, the actual body and mind is tiny, a speck in comparison with the beastly gap between himself and this god, this idol, this ultimate self that is the assumed product of all these things being fulfilled and utilized. This hole is the nest of demonic strength, the fulcrum from which angelic poise exerts itself so poetically; the abyss from which we hear god’s voice?
The reason it all seems a mere hyperbole is because it cannot be expressed in mathematical terminology, the numbers are worthless to convey this sensation which one lives with bodily and mentally, socially and emotionally, and not to disregard the church, spiritually. The desire to attain perfection is not so prominent with some, but incredibly ferocious in its might for a slightly angled psyche not spatially distinct from the same. In other words, this is always there, but not always so familiar to us. It is impossible not to be consumed by this, at least bodily- in death- but all of the other aspects are completely up in the air. It is interesting to note however, that while the gulf is infinite and humongous beyond any rational explanation, reality in its entirety is the equal. In short, it is like an hourglass, with an infinite cone intersecting the tip of another cone, the nexus of our natural state. Reality falls through us, or we fall through it (it is rather Relative) and the void is taking it all in, until it is full, but because we are the finite hole through which this shadow of infinity passes, bit by bit. But we do change, we fall more into this pit of despair after every change, the pieces of raw information can be seen as sand in an hourglass, which if blasted through the tiny middle would most certainly create enough friction to create an even bigger hole. The overlap of ourselves in this state of two identities, one of being constantly consumed, and the other of being constantly in growth, is what we could, in future technical reference, call life. The paradox of the strengthening in intensity of the Abyss and Reality simultaneously is something which I cannot realize. People measure the greatness of their being because they feel insignificant in proportion to existence, but also realize that everyone and everything is the same proportion, yet want more growth, faster, better, and so forth. It is the gaining of the influence of the Abyss which is the cause, and Reality’s fix for this is pour more (yet impossibly the same) amount of information into this being. The rate is exponential, even exponentially so at times, but it is in no way at the same constant exponential power. However, time is an illusion, so this is only the process that tiny ultra micro particles undergo religiously. Just trying to keep things in perspective (I wish I wouldn’t).
The natural fit for the title- the completing terminology, would be humanity’s nonentity. Big words, but a man living in the stark wastelands of Russia has plenty of time to contemplate the wide world and naturally his integral history within it; Franz Kafka, writer of the short story “Metamorphosis”, it would seem, spent a great amount of energy putting his thoughts into a concise, if not cryptic, format. It is a story of many different faces; some may see the blatantly obvious science fiction factor of this, still others the psychological elements. Be that as it may, behind the words and statements are things which extend into the roots of self worth, ambition, familial ties, with the occasional nod in the supernatural direction. In fact, those subtle nods are the premier for any thinker worth his salt: the apple, a weapon used at one juncture in the book, was lodged into Gregor’s back, could illustrate the original sin, and the projectile nature of the encounter between Gregor as an insect having to face the imputative wrath of his father only coupling his understanding that the universe and its creator have indeed forsworn him as a person.
While it does indeed have a Biblical ring about it, keep in mind that Mr. Samsa is in no way not a human, not a vile and horrible man at that, but the fact that the apple is concerned is also the fact that they heap all the problems onto Gregor, they hold him subconsciously accountable for everything that plagues their family: their sluggish behavior, their poverty, all their inadequacies have been equated with Gregor the beetle. Their greed, their deplorable treatment of their own family members, all of it was assumed to be on the shoulders of the son. Was it frustration, was it ignorance, and was it retaliation for the deeds wrought upon their household? Yes, all of it, but all unnecessarily into Gregor’s image.
What would have done this? Who would have enjoyed destroying this already dysfunctional family from the inside-out, rending them all upon their own worthless character? Certainly not Gregor, who was an honest worker, a dependable, generous, and selfless person, yet his family’s utter disinterest in his affairs, equated him to the state that he was indeed but a loathsome pestilence. His own manic depression, the inner realization of the conditions there, coupled with the inhospitable company within, was enough to have wrought the visage of this giant beetle. It was an image into their own minds and hearts, projected mysteriously into reality by the one who was throwing apples from above, apples of discord thrown far from the tree where they originated. Into the lives of this rather dull suburban family was the horror unleashed, for no purpose except to create a story worth analyzing into dust. But enough about the meaning of life!
To give credit where credit is due, Mr. Samsa, coming out of retirement to work in his son’s stead, wearing the symbolic uniform of leadership, is the epicenter of all the waves caused by Gregor, even though Gregor himself is at ground zero. He is the one who stopped working, and the one most disgusted with himself in Gregor’s new body. He would naturally take point on the battlefield with this “threat” because he is the cause of the sin. I would not be at all surprised to have seen the couple chucking apples at the Snake for his advice and his costly insight, so naturally, when all is said and done, Mr. Samsa would react in turn. It is a saying in psychology, “There is something about that guy I just cannot stand about myself,” and its function here is highlight the real root of the problems associated with this scenario.
Grete is a mysterious puzzle piece, a mere child, but a loyal family member to Gregor, the only one not being an aggressor to him, the final one to neglect him. But even she, kindhearted and concerned, would not have dislodged the rotten apple from Gregor’s back. She was the last to give up, the last to neglect, but with Mr. Samsa heading the war of attrition against Gregor (underscored but indeed present) the ending was only a matter of time away. She tried to care, but the pressure to abandon her brother was upon her, leaving her without options, so she felt. Perhaps she was like someone who wishes to do her part to save a worldly person from destruction, but with the purity of heart and following the holier-than-thou congregation, was taken away with all the rest of his life lines.
But with all the analysis one can muster, the truly problematic observation is that the human mind is far too complex to possibly understand the comings and goings of thoughts between one’s different selves; the one that is observed, and the other which observes the self. Their emotions to their emotions, their ideas about their ideas, their thoughts upon their thoughts, all merely seek to bind them tightly to one place that moves without hesitation, nor direction.
Our suspicions, our beloved suppositions| Again, not my forte. But, nice isn’t it, if not a little depressing.
we fill our selves with pride, our souls audacity
| I prefer to dabble in the truth, for the sake of laziness. Yes,
existence is now a war of great attrition
| man is always up against himself, the universe, and well, all things.
In fact, this friction is more than a byproduct, it is the cause, the cinder that burns through all levels of a
Is reality lost in the raging destruction
| man’s soul, mind, and body, the destruction comes from the ignition
minds have been lost, locked away they suffer from atrophy| of material passing through our lives into the
only small lights, our lives are without concentration| Abyss. With such a coarse lining, this block of
information would possibly fan the spark into anger at the slob-ish nature of this presentation. Yes, It only
The war of our bodies has many repudiations
| seems fitting that certain beasties would swell and burn with
minds have been lost, locked away they suffer cacophony
| jealousy and rage, hastily illuminated before they
only small lights, our lives are without realizations| are cast into the pit of un-being; it is quite
understandable. But, must it be so? I remain unsure, if enough precaution is taken, the erosion of our being
Yet somehow tiny creatures feel adoration| will be much less painful, and much more enlightening. The
minds have been lost, locked away they suffer capacity| fires, however, can be used to illuminate areas of
only small lights, our lives are full of expectation
| our lives, and to see beyond the barrier of death,
something readily accepted by the curious and afraid mortals that do flit from here to there. But the
Is reality lost in the blatant contradictions
| demanding power of entropy will rend all consciousness to
minds have been lost, locked away they erode from atrophy
| worthless shreds over the course of our
only small lights, our lives desire attrition
| existence. The heat is unbearable, in the moment of this writing
(I swear it must be 103 in this office!) and in all moments to come. Relationships are forged and smelted
The heat of these forces grants no absolution| anew- eradicating most previous material -in the fires of
the winds do not agree, there is no conspiracy| passion, but the process allows more to leak beyond the barrier
Our acts deserve no righteous compensation
| into the next life, or whatever it would be, something we can
but only small lights, our lives require completion.| see, but is beyond our power to reclaim. All in all, the poem is an interesting one, for sure, but perhaps not quite worthy of the Pulitzer Prize. I didn’t come close. There is still so much more to say here, but it must be discerned by the reader, I have done all I can here.
Such sadness|| What strength gained by fooling life
follows gratefulness|| can move the immovable mountain
borne of happiness|| and shift it back upon the light
a paradox|| to smother the lying shadows
a life lived as a contradiction|| the light deadened, so truth will die
a death not dead but expectation|| it will swallow deathly life and perhaps its true form
living death dying|| death ending all, beginning nothing anew
dying life living|| such peace, it must be impossible
happiness as a prelude to sorrow|| Yes, happiness and peace replace the truth
wisdom as a requiem to folly|| a costly trade indeed
wanted, not wanting|| my self is the shadow
Wanting, not wanted|| it must return to reality
but can anyone understand this pain|| the enveloping darkness
the solution eludes even me|| given swift new wings
the crux lies in evil shadows|| gratefulness gave
shadows cast, perhaps, by an immovable force|| happiness to follow
shadows of revealing light, only another paradox|| it spurred new insights
a box of paradoxes|| old memories
with a crate of cretins|| love hates itself
fused together, sharing boundaries|| it loves hate
my mind, my heart, my soul locked inside|| and hates love
my self weeping in the shadows of life|.|
The lights are too bright||
cretins avert their eyes||
none see me||
i can live a lie||
i can die a lie||
i can think a lie||
i can be a lie||
none would ever be aware||
it is not something I will ever declare||
not by the ears of cretins||
the paradoxes are enough to voice my fears||
But the cretins cannot think||
how the foolish are born of these wise follies||
is just another face of the monster||
how dying life is created from death||
is just another aspect||
living death can be created from life||
the wise born, a child of foolish wisdom||
both merely counterfeits, masks assumed by our mind to pretend||
that we are all fine and happy||
a cretin is no longer apt||
a jackass, just a stupid animal willfully bearing weight that is not his|.|
There is a reason that trauma rhymes with drama. That’s all I have to say about that.
Desire is all. It is that which creates action. Period. People may have different priorities in this regard, but it all supposedly pays off in the end. Even the desire to alleviate boredom is only but one facet, although indeed very primary to the cause of continual existence. It is rather interesting to note, however, that in the animal kingdom, boredom has little influence, but who are we to say anything disregarding the contrary, we can’t really verify whether or not either is true. And so, the real note is that that information has no inherent value, it possesses no essential requirements for my intelligence argument or anything else. But I did desire to put forth all these things, and also to continue to do so. Why not? There is no real meaning behind denying what you want from yourself, and at any rate, there is a desire putting forth all thoughts and feelings, all situations, circumstances, and inherent characteristics. After all, life is not necessary, if it really were, there would be a psychological road block preventing suicide, euthanasia, and abortion. But there obviously isn’t, otherwise there would be no controversy, would there? No, I very much doubt that there would. And if life, plus and minus, were to be disregarded, think of the real waste of effort trying to put forth such an ideal. It just cannot be practical, letting the most disease ridden creature on the planet spawn, and not bothering to at least purge, if not erase, the psychological defects given generation through generation. But wouldn’t it be most prudent to realize that this has existed for all time, which no one will do anything positive toward the situation, because the mental defects have been consistently carried throughout the scattered genealogies, a defect that will not be allowed to end itself, nor improve. Yes, the system is obviously broken simply because there is no solid ground, socially speaking, upon which to base your arguments. There is no great desire to tune the popular priority one way or the other; people are content to spread hatred and pain. One desire leads to another and that one to another. All just forms of the unending abyss, that’s all, and to fit, all the complexities of the experiential reality which we are born[e] into. It is only fitting that reality be infinite also, it is a perfect metaphysical system, because all components are perpetual and interchangeable. It is simply the system that allows the most of everything. I merely desire that there is a possibility to do and be everything at one point or another, and all the attempts to rationalize this are fueled by this desire. The conflicting desires are merely a product of one singular desire, ant that is to fulfill the part of this ideal identity, one that alters subtly at every moment, yet remains inherently the same. All reality and its perceived and perceptible events are triggered by this one thing. Why do desires change? Because we change. And why are there also unalterable ones? Because we are also unalterable to a certain degree, we, and all we can be, can’t be, are, and aren’t, are created by previous processes that create desires and simultaneously fulfill desires. Desire is a perpetual entity, a continual force in this universe, but my experiences as a human earthling do not allow me to say with any degree of certainty that desire is an absolute in the multiverse, or that anything is. We just cannot rule out anything, because it wouldn’t be ethical, and it wouldn’t be practical, not to mention boring. But perhaps if there are dimensions to every perception, creature, idea, in fact any single configuration of information, than it could be said that there are most definitely absolutes. But just as we can’t move into a perpendicular time dimension, perhaps we cannot leave our universal and dimensional heritage as easily as it would seem, but there is always a loophole. Yaaaay!! Or whatever, it’s cool.