Wednesday, December 28, 2005
These rusty chains
hold me down
while I idly
waste away as
time eats the
momentary days but
like a subtle
disease I am
a fly caught
in the bottle
and with only
a brief life
and exposure to
the moment when
air met space
and there was
music to the
light we see
I can only
aspire to reach
my eternal love
to touch that
siren who sings
me to shipwreck:
So she can
take this life
and that space
which makes me
free and release me
from this cruel
and beautiful world.
while I idly
waste away as
time eats the
momentary days but
like a subtle
disease I am
a fly caught
in the bottle
and with only
a brief life
and exposure to
the moment when
air met space
and there was
music to the
light we see
I can only
aspire to reach
my eternal love
to touch that
siren who sings
me to shipwreck:
So she can
take this life
and that space
which makes me
free and release me
from this cruel
and beautiful world.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Random thoughts
To choose is a brave act worthy of an epic stripped without spectacle
as if one were left naked while wet snow falls from the night sky
To choose is the release from language or at least decorative language.
To write is to live for all the wrong reasons when we idly spend reflecting on what was said or how was said when we forget when and where the word was said
But who said what?
To be a person is to be like a circle or at least a being that follows a circle. Why? Because we can't define or identify a person without speaking in circles.
What do I mean by a circle? It less a static geometrical shape, but a metaphorical description for the crude way events take place.
We live, we die, but in our end something other begins.
But why think about death?
The statement how one's thought as one's own holds necessarily true irrelevant of what can be empirically verified.
The very notion of one is inseparable from the idea of exclusivity. An exclusion based on a rational consistency.
Thus, your view on death--on how you die is a thought that is exclusively your's.
I can take away your life, but I can't take away your death.
To be the one is to be solitary. What lies on the other side of the wilderness, as the eternal gap between expectation and outcome, is the very condition for the possibility of freedom.
Only persons have a future, or at least, the only beings acutely aware of chance and accident, and borne from our own selfish choices is our concern for life and that this concern has a purpose.
That our freedom must have an end.
And because of an accelerated distribution of logical and rational knowlegde through our own concern for correctness: the drive to approximate this end has thereby stripped the idea of personhood of superstition for the sake of absolute control. But still progress has spirit; a mythical spirit which celebrates human alienation by rendering its conscious isolation a reflection of its own dominance.
When we speak of ourselves, and from ourselves, we cannot help but speak absolutely.
There is such a thing as cultural alienation; we are acutely aware of our freedom and its position in history. And death spreads faster with each count for the human lives we presuppose and stipulate as important and history is nothing but a list of dead things.
Why do you care about persons? Why do you care about freedom? And why do you hope that things could be set aright?
When one can't possibly reject the statement: Fuck being free. Fuck life. Fuck everyone.
Why? Because there is no rational justification for why we should value anything--or at least we can't possibly give a reason why people ought to live their lives and value what they have.
We can't reason about the worth or price of anything without deceiving ourselves about we what want, for the reason could only be given after the fact.
The world is simply so.
as if one were left naked while wet snow falls from the night sky
To choose is the release from language or at least decorative language.
To write is to live for all the wrong reasons when we idly spend reflecting on what was said or how was said when we forget when and where the word was said
But who said what?
To be a person is to be like a circle or at least a being that follows a circle. Why? Because we can't define or identify a person without speaking in circles.
What do I mean by a circle? It less a static geometrical shape, but a metaphorical description for the crude way events take place.
We live, we die, but in our end something other begins.
But why think about death?
The statement how one's thought as one's own holds necessarily true irrelevant of what can be empirically verified.
The very notion of one is inseparable from the idea of exclusivity. An exclusion based on a rational consistency.
Thus, your view on death--on how you die is a thought that is exclusively your's.
I can take away your life, but I can't take away your death.
To be the one is to be solitary. What lies on the other side of the wilderness, as the eternal gap between expectation and outcome, is the very condition for the possibility of freedom.
Only persons have a future, or at least, the only beings acutely aware of chance and accident, and borne from our own selfish choices is our concern for life and that this concern has a purpose.
That our freedom must have an end.
And because of an accelerated distribution of logical and rational knowlegde through our own concern for correctness: the drive to approximate this end has thereby stripped the idea of personhood of superstition for the sake of absolute control. But still progress has spirit; a mythical spirit which celebrates human alienation by rendering its conscious isolation a reflection of its own dominance.
When we speak of ourselves, and from ourselves, we cannot help but speak absolutely.
There is such a thing as cultural alienation; we are acutely aware of our freedom and its position in history. And death spreads faster with each count for the human lives we presuppose and stipulate as important and history is nothing but a list of dead things.
Why do you care about persons? Why do you care about freedom? And why do you hope that things could be set aright?
When one can't possibly reject the statement: Fuck being free. Fuck life. Fuck everyone.
Why? Because there is no rational justification for why we should value anything--or at least we can't possibly give a reason why people ought to live their lives and value what they have.
We can't reason about the worth or price of anything without deceiving ourselves about we what want, for the reason could only be given after the fact.
The world is simply so.
