How would you like waking up in the middle of the night
With an unfamiliar arm grasping yours
With a will and strength pulsating through its muscles
Like an animal’s?
And how would you like a cardiopulmonary resuscitation when your heart’s beating perfectly fine?
I do not want to go to sleep because I do not want to wake up drenched in urine and sweat quickly turning cold as I stand outside in the dark having just sprinted out the door half conscious and screaming
Get it off!
And I definitely don’t want to wonder if anyone heard me and hate myself for hoping they did
And I definitely don’t want to wake you up
How would you like waking up in the middle of the night
Facts aren’t even what they used to be
You gotta learn to read gotta learn to read
Hallelujah, it’s here, the messiah
How many you’s do you use to feed the fire?
To float through the flood of eyes
Can you decipher
It’s only proper, maintain good posture
The time I saw you sift
Through eloquent snarls and purrs
Like clothes that might fit
I knew we were all drowning in the words
And this was it
I want my memory back
To rationalize abuse
You and I may have it out
And have nothing left
To face down doubt
Sure, fight or flight
Alone can get you through
A miserable existence of fright
While God waits on you
Leave it to the state
To get you what you need
Your participation awaits
Should that be what you seek
If tigers can hunt
And deer can run
The talker is human
Whose words are like hands
With which she may dance, hunt, run, fight, flight, make love, or die
Laugh or cry
And give life a try
Again and again
Until the infinite unnameable
Is at her door knocking
Will have prepared her
For anything yet unlived
And naming all in ether
So flow it goes- gone those foes
In every direction of fear
Spreading is a different human
Held together by heritage
Survival is incidental
Whereof one does not know
One must not speak
Talk of Darwin like you know
Hypocrite, you ceased to seek
One who wants to believe
Must step out and see
P.s. I have no idea where I was going with this, I just read it and it makes no sense… Maybe one day I’ll really get all my shit together and come back and read this and derive some useful meaning so will leave it up. Although if I really got my shit together I probably wouldn’t even bother.
Physicophile, musicophile, writer, reader, player, baller, athlete, bum, OCD, hiker, biker, joker, toker, graceless, faithful, family member, gamer, political-economic history-phile, finance-ignorant, anthropolophile, ADD, coffee connoisseur, internet addict, dancer, pianist, guitarist, saxophonist, bassist, janitor, pizza man, teacher, coach, gardener, landscaper, laborer, fisherman, golfer, son, brother, bro, friend, nephew, uncle, disappointment, success, high school grad, college drop out, recruit, sailor, philosopher, begger, giver, did I say student?, English, Korean, Spanish, Chinese, American-Irish, Taoist, Catholic, mystic, gnostic, seeker, misguided, unguided, self guided, director/ editor/ producer of short films, movie phanatic, actor, poet, drawer, degree aspirant, respect-aspirant, steady job-aspirant, loner, recovering narcissist, meditator, psychological Olympian, biologist, bio-matter, Romeo, pall bearer, cutthroat business man, hospital volunteer, soup kitchen volunteer, charity marathon volunteer, blogger, amateur dietician, independent, dependent, DIYer, gambler, rambler, libertarian, objectivist, financial conservative, social liberal, feminist, master debater, masterba- no, too weird, weight-lifter, cross-fitter, chocoholic, social drinker, abstainer, abuser, why is there so much pressure to fit into a box?
No more entitlement, narcissism, avoidance, dismissing of details
More routine, involvement, responsibility, attention to detail And all it takes is your run of the mill old fashioned courage! Wish they made a pill for that.
A most mature nightmare: makes me want to call retreat, hide in my video games and music and coffee; never try again.
Maybe Kant lends sufficient righteousness to the balless hordes of self-pity dwelling parasites whose broken sense of duty is twisted enough that the occasional bright who finds him/herself in such a strange existential predicament that his philosophy has any usefulness for that individual. But besides that I don’t get the big deal of “categorical imperative”. Except, oh wait… You can’t just trust anyone to fulfill duty. You keep a constant eye on everyone and either learn how to do it, or judge their value. And it’s automatic. And it’s qualification for playing the big boy game. I’m sick of being comfortable. Fuck capitalism. Unless I’m successful. Then it’s great. There’s a higher duty, which I try to make seem like I’m special and it’s just my good heart. But even that can be fully contained and beat by countless saints. I know you’re not supposed to compare yourself. Happy Thanksgiving. I bought some homeless people dinner today and got their dog food from Walgreens. And is that duty? NOPE. That’s a gov’t paycheck and guilt. So here it goes with writing (I’m not just writing here, I don’t want to clog your newsfeeds). But nobody’s answering upstairs so I’ll move on to cleaning my room, and that takes about 5 minutes except my roommate could be a little more neat in the bathroom. NOPE. Run run run, I wish, I could run a marathon right now except it’s dark out and I don’t want to fuck with circadian rhythm, which I continue to hone to perfection. NOPE. Rec center closed, which is where pianos are. NOPE. Any more distractions? KOREAN. Thank god.
Wherein thou hid’st the spectral past;
Where, closely mingling, pale and glow
The characters of joy and woe;
The monographs of outlived years,
Or smile-illumed or dim with tears,
Green hills of life that slope to death,
And haunts of home, whose vistaed trees
Shade off to mournful cypresses
With the white amaranths underneath.
Even while I look, I can but heed
The restless sands’ incessant fall,
Importunate hours that hours succeed,
Each clamorous with its own sharp need,
And duty keeping pace with all.
Shut down and clasp the heavy lids;
I hear again the voice that bids
The dreamer leave his dream midway
For larger hopes and graver fears;
Life greatens in these later years,
The century’s aloe flowers to-day!
—John Greenleaf Whittier
Is there any meaning to duty?
I hate it when people react with hostility to me staring at them. They’re a person. I’m a person. I’m staring at them and it’s none of their business.
There are more possible games of a chess match than there are atoms in the known universe