if i got a chance to show you how i feel, i wouldn’t. it’s not even something i would wish upon enemies had i any. isn’t that neat though? how one individual’s feeling could mean the world to someone. and i say that ambiguously because what if one person’s feelings were actually the world to that person? what if those feelings were of nothing but pure love. and then what if they get shot down? boom, that’s whole universe, murdered. what if you should just be kind, asshole? i grazed across a verse in the bible once that said, “be kind to them suckas ’round you, give ’em a smile, mofo. ’cause you don’t even know, some of my boys be pretending to look like you fools.” -yes i paraphrased, but some of you will know that as hebrews 13:2
Monthly Archives: November 2016
i need advice. my pops is in an immigration jail. they’ve held him since august. they won’t let him out because of something he did 26 years ago, of which, he’d already been reprimanded. but the jail won’t release him because the country of which he would be deported to won’t accept him. but the jail won’t let him out because he was a danger to society 26 years ago. so they’re just gonna hold him. i can not see where any of that is legal whether in the court of law or even humanity, so wtf? on top of that, i have to go to jail in january, myself because i’m poor. i know, i know, i’m venting right now, and there’s nothing i can do but sit here and take it.
now is it wrong for me to sit here and take it? or should i kick some fuckin’ ass? i mean, if they’re gonna treat me and my pops like criminals, we might as well give them a reason to, right? boondock saints style. what’s the worst that can happen? i go to jail? well, fuck me! anyway, i hope you all have a nice thanksgiving. there’s something so wrong with justice in this country, and i’m so tired. others will join me because it hasn’t happened to them yet. if every judge spent a single day incarcerated, things would be different. why hasn’t that been a prerequisite within the steps to becoming a judge? they have no idea how many lives they smacked away with the wistful flick of the gavel. (of which, i’m disappointed because i didn’t even hear a gavel.) put me on a watchlist, mr. prez and prez to be. i know violence isn’t the answer, so i’m gonna use my american highschool educated brain, which doesn’t sound like much, i know, but they say necessity is the mother of invention.
there’s something magnificent about giving up. with no bounds to regret. it takes you somewhere. there, ain’t no one got standards held up against you. there, ain’t no one fit to judge you. it’s just you. and there, right there is where you discover that balance in your life that you’ve been looking for. oh right, you gotta admit you’ve been looking for that balance, not just a good ride, ’cause there’s always a line. An entire universe in you- a place within its infinite vastness, a tiny spot without fear of judgement, without fear of failure. what is that stuff anyway? we didn’t buy it, we never did.
From this little spot, this little place in us, anything could happen. well, better to say anything will happen. shit, even death is welcome, my old friend. but hey, from here, you get the bigger picture- ain’t no one more cruel to you than yourself.
it’s a one sided fight with only one winner. and sometimes the only move to make is to not make a move. it’s like a forfeiture but also not. you can’t lose and they can’t win. with cards already stacked against you, it’s your best move. and who knows? some asshole may just stumble in and disrupt the game. anything’ll happen.
i live in a strange world. universe even. but i’ve never seen it and seeing is believing. to be honest, i haven’t seen the world either so i’m not exactly sure that’s real either. there is talk about the world being in a simulation and there isn’t enough data to prove that wrong. nor prove it right. but that trickles over not unlike the world’s greatest mysteries. or universe. is there a god-creator? is the world really flat? are there people with power running the show? does the tree make a sound when it falls? is there a tree if you don’t see it? nobody knows.
my biggest problem is me. specifically with belief. everybody has beliefs whether it’s of things you can’t see but feel, with ideas over actions, even actions over beliefs. people i know have those set in stone almost. i admire that. to look at something and truly believe what they think of it to be true. it looks so easy. you’re the most important person in your universe and that actually seems correct, but false at the same time. the universe has coerced me into believing that same. that i’m important. that i’m meant to be alive. but i don’t believe in anything though i wield the curiosity. like a dildo. waving and flopping it around everywhere. sure i’ve got my own penis, but it’s just funnier with a symbol of it. an idol. i’m the most important person in my world and i’m jiggling a dildo around at the dmv and no one’s called security. my biggest problem is me, and i can’t seem to ever take myself seriously again. if i am the embodiment of my life in it’s physical form, then the act of taking in the sweet things in my life comes just as strangely as taking in the salty things. in this case, salt came first. but if you ask me whether the chicken or the egg came first; i’d ask you what’s a chicken and what’s an egg? they’re both delicious.
keep the chicken for the eggs, the eggs are where you need engineering. ideas and beliefs are more like eggs than it is a chicken. the chicken is backup.
that said, the egg came first. chicken’s aren’t the only things that lay eggs.
it’s funny. the hive consciousness. it’s like i know things in advance now before they happen. of course it’s already happened. for instance, the movie the invasion. See, I’ve always had a crush on nicole kidman, seen all her work, however, that movie never existed. to me. maybe something’s in the water. my memory is failing. I’ve always feared alzheimers. i guess the scary part is that what is, is, but my memory has seldom been wrong. i’m no nikola tesla, but i do remember everything. so, how does one determine who is right? everything through digital media now? or what i vividly remember? everything i see and hear, speaks to me. it’s funny. scary. and sad.
do I, accept it? or do i fight? what is the point in rebellion? i just want to be like everybody else.
“Do you think he knows…?”
“Do you think he knows?”
“Do you think he knows??”
“Do you think he knows?”
I heard that, behind my back.
don’t eat. don’t drink. you see and feel it too don’t you? coincidences becoming more frequent? feeling like you’re in the right place at the right time more often than usual? intuition rebel. am i the only one? everyone’s caught a cold except me?
i think it’d be a cool story, this. if i was lucifer and everyone else got bit by a jesus bug, easter eggs, spacemushroomspores, whatetcs, and i was the only on that wasn’t susceptible to this? of course, i’m not a scripture guy. i like doctor who type scifi. I’m about to watch, “a good man goes to war.”6.7
i firmly believe there’s something wrong with the screens we use everyday. some sort of hypnosis, i think. i dunno, maybe it puts us into a trance or a different frequency. you ever get a really good idea and a few weeks later, some other jackass comes up with the same idea as you do?
well i think it puts our conscious thought into a pool, where everybody else is too (because we’re under the same hypnosis) and there are some people that can reach in and pluck out some great ideas. i guess it’s like a hive mind, but these ideas, they come from our soul, so if some asshole jacks your idea it’s kinda like them taking a bit of your soul right? but what is the soul anyway? i’m just insane, you probably haven’t felt what it’s like to have someone jack your thoughts.
I met her at a gala. I wasn’t invited to the gala but i silver-tongued my way in there. It was beautiful. The place was as black as space and only the important things lit up. It began from the lobby entrance to the third floor and encircled the lobby. Like a mall. A mall of art and lights. She, like I, wasn’t interested in the art but found the people walking by and looking at things and giving commentary interesting.
I was walking by one of the ignorable exhibits with some friends, all female, and having listened to them talk about cowardly men for 3 stories saw one sitting alone in one of the lounge chairs. She wore shorts and a blouse with a backpack. I had a backpack too. That was all we had in common. I got up from our group without a word and walked over to her.
We made no smalltalk, and instead immediately bombarded each other with ideas. Some jokingly funny, and some profoundly significant in a few short words. She had this foreign accent rooted in latin and I, mainstream regular. Somehow we talked each other into walking the rest of the the 3rd story. My friends, snickered and gave me thumbs ups, so that meant i could ignore them but would be hammered by questions later at the bar. The bar, any bar, was my compensation, but that’s not important except to tell you I didn’t want to be there.
I didn’t think I would find anything at the place interesting. I believed my presence was simply a courtesy to anyone else. But there I was enjoying myself with this creature that didn’t have a name. This is significant because she rolled off the railing near the escalator and plummeted 3 stories before I even knew her name. She didn’t hop or jump off, she just rolled over the railing like she wasn’t in a hurry to die, but more like she was just annoyed at how long she’d waited. I screamed.
I didn’t scream because of the horror. I screamed because here she was this impressive being I’d never met, decided to die right before we did. I listened to her fully when she talked about things, and talked about things she thought she had nothing to do with, as the things that stick in your mind say much about you. I understood her. But she went down expressly anyway, so I screamed.
I took the elevator down and asked the person attending her if she was still breathing. She was. I asked her for her phone number. She pulled out a black pen and wrote “lobos” on my palm. Then she clocked out. To this day, I don’t know if she meant she was a wolf, or that I was. Was I so appalling that she rolled out of a 3 story height to escape me? Or was she calling me a wolf? Was she saying she was? Maybe we both were. In sheeps clothing, pretending to enjoy 3 stories of shit, like everyone else.
I never got her name, or her number.
my friends, family
i love you guys so very much. the best and worst things to ever happened to me haha. but in the end, my troubles couldn’t be shared. they were lonesome times. these posts were written in advance. i don’t know where i am now, but i assume its in a dark place. and i am not with you. you’re all in a different place. and i am where i feared most to be, without you. even though i was already there as i write this. well. strange shit happened, i’m not who i thought i was. sort of a half breed. i dunno. the world is your oyster, but that oyster is fixed. patterns, numbers, lights, the world is 2 dimensional. spatial awareness is an illusion and gives the effect of 3d. it’s actually built into our eyeballs. information isn’t real. its data accumulated and this is the dump. once you learn to see that, you’ll see the world, along with those invisible things. those weird feelings you get, coincidences, all that weird shit we’re relying on science for. but science is a method of deduction. not an authority. you are the authority. you decide. once you start to notice the “glitches” the first thing you’ll do is say,’weird, coincidence,’ do it enough times and you’ll start to look like you’re full of shit. “1 in a million?” “so you’re saying there’s a chance…” how bad do the odds have to look before you can decide for yourself an improbability is not an impossibility.
where is the love, i often wondered. it’s all around me. always. it just was never within. i’m a donut hole. now, go get em.