postmodern nothing

2002-02-15T20:46:00.000-06:00

chasing my tail 02/15/02

sentences and paragraphs often fail to capture a thought
i suggest the possibility that the fault is due to their structure
they have a definite beginning and end unlike the thoughts they try to hold
how does a line contain a circle?
it seems a better question may be: why use a mere line?
when you reach for an object do you grab with straight fingers?
you conform your fingers to the object's shape to contain it
wrap words around the thought
curve the lines, until they're circular
seems likely a circular string of words can hold circular concepts
then how does one make a circular string of words?
the "ends" that once existed on the statement must connect seamlessly
with this accomplished a loop is formed, a major step toward a "circular expression"
with the loop established, the key becomes balance
simply looping is not enough. the reader must have the ability to start from any word in the expression, cycle through the subsequent text, and get the same meaning that any other starting point would offer.
the expression could be refined further by having all words sharing letters, i.e. the first letter of one word being the last letter of the previous etc.
still that leaves a segmented string, due to the seperation of letters; a circle with dotted line. both a string of restraining walls but equally a chain of exits.
it doesn't appear likely that this formation, this medium would successfully hold the full splendor of thought, but this has never stopped me from speaking before

2002-02-15T20:45:00.001-06:00

:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON
When. 02/14/02

The sin of flesh.

Traveling down a corridor with a definite end, nowhere near in sight. Eyes open and surveying the tapestry and the tile work beneath shaky feet. Wondering whether dreams so vivid exist, before wondering what is in a dream that breaks it from the real. Taking time to shudder away from the sights, sounds, and smells ahead leaves a dry mouth. Those who encroach on this unhallowed walk are shunned with the formidable layers of glass between. Sex is compulsory, as is stimulation from the pool of the populous. Yet, again, eyes focus on the twisting hall henceforth. Traps lie in the form of miniscule holes in the floor more than spikes and poisoned arrows. Complications arise when parallel sights reveal hangers on and the afflicted. But be not dismayed from the line ahead. There is a white line to be followed.

Awake.
:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON

2002-02-15T20:45:00.000-06:00

exchange 02/13/02

the word filter
a tongue blender
body speaks in every other word
a soul's muffled idea
hope to find a way
without flight of death
to share a soul

1. words objective, too cold
2. words metaphoric, too vague
3. words fail

eye to eye
mouth to mouth
hand in hand
faith in faith
a beautiful exchange

2002-02-15T20:44:00.001-06:00

note to self 02/13/02

love and god found worthy of faith
found "why's" before god
found love after destroying god
chose not to destroy love

no question in love
knows no reason, craves no logic
love is, love will
no why.
know why:
questions destroy
can a human formula create god? idiot.
can't explain
words chip away the thought
tried simplifying...
stop.

2002-02-15T20:44:00.000-06:00

:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON
Reading your thoughts. 02/13/02

Thoughts must be spilled like blood in a war waged for the amusement of an uncaring god.

An allegory within a terrible synthesis of vomit-inspiring "shitstorm" of thought.

To become uncomfortable with the person one has become seems to nullify the entire point to a "meaningful existence." But it is without question that things can be done to prevent, or rectify such a state of mental anguish. It is always better to suffer in knowing, with control, than to suffer because of extemporaneous circumstances. Stimuli need not apply here. Emotional torrents are not on the menu.

Pure, out and out hate and malice must be recalled and recaptured in such a way that as many people are hurt in deep serrated wounds as possible. Cutting the tangled ties of those who clutch to your satisfaction with self will prove to be a refreshing turn in the proverbial road. Spawned in a cocoon of lies and terrible truths, and letting on the ever-impending failure of self, a blank stare encompasses the face with eyes glazed to perfection.

What reaction comes of this?
:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON

2002-02-15T20:39:00.000-06:00

analog god 02/11/02

reach into the mind in the general direction of conception
pull away trembling fists of ether
thought flames with the friction of terrestrial adversity
steaming protest filtered through meshed familiarity
stains a phrase in unusual structure

2002-02-15T20:38:00.000-06:00

:::::::::::::::::::::BOBHOPE
before you become empty 02/11/02

The theory of postmodernism accepts the impossibility of directly asserting an objective truth. Instead, it focuses on a variety of subjective explanations people offer for their existence. These various assertions are called 'narratives,' or 'discourses.' Narratives are logically internally consistent explanations for objective reality. This is not to say that they are actually objective reality, but rather, they offer pragmatic explanations for what objective reality may be. In the scheme of postmodernism Christianity and Nihilism are both equally valid positions to hold on the state of the universe. Either one has equal truth value. The apparent disagreement between the positions comes from removing the parts of the arguments for each position from their internal narratives. Narratives should be treated as independent structures that simply exist parrallel to one another.

However, if one is to live life, and follow through on their existence, it is practical to choose a particular narrative, whether it be christianity, nihilism, or whatever. To commit oneself to a narrative requires faith. We can have no certainty that we are making the correct choice, and commiting ourselves to an objective viewpoint that may be false. To choose requires faith. Kierkegaard may have felt faith was necessary for a Christian, but it is just as necessary for the Nihilist.
:::::::::::::::::::::BOBHOPE

2002-02-15T20:37:00.000-06:00

:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON
Surgeon General's Warning. 02/11/02

Is this digital reality - a world clung to for answers, support, or a place to express thoughts that are not dared to be uttered - a distant land within a personal hell? Something seems awful in here. A stench in the air, long forgotten, but not dead coasts in and out of the senses. There is such intelligence in true insanity. But for those who desire an escape from their bitter tormented lives, there is no hope. Salvation does not walk along doorsteps looking for participants in bake sales and volunteer operations.

An angst flows from lips like snowflakes of ash into the street of a desolate megalopolis. Purpose has yet to be found. The only bliss comes in spurts of unconsciousness. There is no open hand guiding followers into a path unspoken.

We exist in an era of endless human denial and confusion.
:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON

2002-02-15T20:36:00.000-06:00

:::::::::::::::::::::BOBHOPE
relate 02/10/02

Kierkegaard felt that Christianity could not be experienced as an objective reality. To become a true Christian, one must have faith, and faith is paradoxically opposed to objective truth. Kierkegaard knew that facts tell us nothing about how to live our lives. It may be that the sun will rise tomorrow, or that water boils at 100 degrees C., but that tells you nothing about how you personally will relate to those facts. If we knew for certain that there was a God, and that God loved us, that would not tell us how to behave towards that God. We may choose how we relate to our objective reality; we may even choose our 'objective reality.'

How is it that we can choose? Well, it is an unfortunate problem for the human species that we can only have a relational conception of the universe. We never grasp reality outside of ourselves as it is within itself. We are always in relation to reality, and thus forced to view it from a subjective stance. Because we never have direct contact with the outside world, we can never be absolutely certain as to its actuality.

Kierkegaard's solution was faith. Since we are already resigned to our subjective position, we must somehow attempt to embrace the objective world through our relationship to it. By having faith, one disregards the necessity for an absolute certainty, and gives up objective reality. We commit ourselves to Christianity as a 'subjective truth' in what Kierkegaard calls the act of 'infinite resignation.' The act of infinite resignation is commiting our lives to our relation with a truth, despite the seeming impossibillity of it. In grasping this truth as it relates to me, I finally begin to understand it as a corporeal reality, rather than just an ephemeral fact. Faith is accepting the impossibility of obtaining the objective and turning to a subjective relationship, in order to obtain the objective.

Have faith.
:::::::::::::::::::::BOBHOPE

2002-02-15T20:35:00.000-06:00

:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON
Solidarity in form. 02/10/02

...who loves to talk about the past, which makes him feel nothing.
...who cannot discern between reality and delusion.
...who shakes his head when he walks.
...who becomes bored with people too easily.
...who cannot express himself without falling into the traps of the sullen teary-eyed.
...who thinks with his head and not his genitals.
...who breaks his own moral codes time after time after time after time.
...who knows what is and is not the correct decision.
...who cannot admit to himself what must be done.
...who is addicted.
...who has feelings buried under anger.
...who takes to people with nothing but problems under their hats.
...who cannot remember what makes him feel better.
...who cannot bring himself to the bittersweet conclusion.
...who loves to be alone.
...who craves something from his past.
...who aches for nothing in his soul.
...who wrote this.
...who picks at the scab of life until it's blood runs down his arm.
...who prayed honestly and earnestly for a change or a well-deserved demise.
...who cannot end it all.
...who wants something else.
:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON

2002-02-15T20:28:00.000-06:00

:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON
The amber grain flows…but not gently. 02/08/02

Questioning motivations within the self, a soliloquy of morbid fascinations with a questionable reality. Arguably the most potent of solutions is found inside the precious casing of the dura mater. Asking others for help, and insight is always a pleasant fantasy though. The small hooves of an Elvin creature would be a welcomed solution to the eternal conflicts. However, technology does not have the mind reading capabilities to create such a being.

Words come gradually, and with no sudden sense of purpose since before. A grammatical mistake sends a flurry of thought into what sounds better, rather than what sounds right. Not looking this time, it is accomplished with ease.

A conclusion to this calamity must be met. Putting off an inevitable death of relation and rational reality seems like a goal set off in a thick wooded forest of doubt and pain. Visual imagery does not enhance a simple problem. Hand gestures make stories more annoying at this point. A change of voice and costume may be desirable.

Do what must be done. And above all, never lose self.
:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON

2002-02-15T20:27:00.000-06:00

:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON
Your smile vanished into the cold embrace of your eyes 02/07/02

Want, want, want, crave, beg, steal, throw, disembowel.
I cannot ask you what is wrong. Everything is wrong.
Bind my eyes, nose, and mouth.
Suffocate my soul.
Break the glass.
Burn a picture.
Question it.
Kill it.
End.

Now.
Rise up.
Create anew.
Forget past days.
Break into a new soil.
Restored pieces of a better place here.
In depth comes a silent observance of time.
Live, live, live, and ask for no salvation in your existence.
:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON

2002-02-15T20:26:00.000-06:00

:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON
Stab me in the eye repeatedly. 02/06/02

I dreamed of better days in those brief fifteen minutes. Days when delusions were called daydreams, and pleasure was taken in looking out into the afternoon skies. I was flashed back to my grim reality though, but my perceptions came oddly.

Preconceptions and failed plans fade into the moment. I sit with my back to the world most days, not caring what happens and who comes or goes. Ellipses are tools overused and widely sought after gems. Pausing mid-thought is a natural resource that can never go barren. Asking stupid questions is a good way to keep relations in order.

Rubbing the eyes of god takes a skill which commands too much of my personality.
:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON

2002-02-15T20:24:00.000-06:00

loop of you 02/05/02

a moment of you pouring from my pen in an ever changing line that bent and skewed away like the shy eyes that inspired it to flow from a shivering hand that only trembled above your skin moments before reaching for an item to record that fleeting moment sure to die beneath the weight of time but unwilling to cease in a memory that embraced it so lovingly that it insisted that i recreate a moment of you pouring from my pen in an ever changing line that bent and skewed away like the shy eyes that inspired it to flow from a shivering hand that only trembled above your skin moments before reaching for an item to record that fleeting moment sure to die beneath the weight of time but unwilling to cease in a memory that embraced it so lovingly that it insisted that i recreate a moment of you pouring from my pen in an ever changing line that bent and skewed away like the shy eyes that

2002-02-15T20:20:00.000-06:00

:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON
Beef Stew 02/03/2002

When you start to believe in your own bullshit is when you know you are truly "lost."

Having been the subject of a series of bad events recently, I realize that I have been trapped in a cycle of avoiding doing anything that makes my life "better." In other words, I have literally no direction in life but faced down dead on the ground. Not to be overly melodramatic or anything, but I'm tired of being so full of shit that I can't even think on any rational plane anymore. A philosophical debate used to entertain me for a while back in high school, but I'm not one of those pretentious bastards that tries desperately to relive the glory days of my not-so-stellar high school experience.

Suddenly I realized that I was writing this in totally the wrong place. I was writing this not to have any sort of feedback, but suddenly realized that I would be getting a string of remarks full of people's self-assuring catch phrases, and comments that only the writer would think were witty.

Nausea creeps up my esophagus again, and my body is aching slightly more than a minute before. The train of thoughts is easily de-railed when you think about what you are actually doing, instead of what you think you are doing. Little sense emerges from the most words.
:::::::::::::::::::::MILTON

2002-02-15T20:16:00.000-06:00

thing; every/no 02/03/02

just things with emotional parasites unavoidable, but necessary in beings imperfect trying to remove is ignorant, acceptance... is.it's this reasoning or natural process of thought that so frequently destroys me. that being so, how is it that i may sit and write this in such a state of mild euphoria -transitioning never further than a peaceful satisfaction? the greatest part of the thought process is that as powerfully as it can generate life threatening doubt, it is based on a foundation of possibility. and for this reason and my acknowledgement of its importance, i'll never destroy god, i'll never destroy life, i'll never destroy myself. i may bury them, but then there they'll lay push them away, but then away they still exist
if i can ever, for any reason -by any means, prove that something isn't then i am certain that i am capable of proving that something is that established, neither part of the rule is likely to happen
i'm hopeful that no observation is merely a point, that everything is a symmetrical entity. both good and bad and consequently neither. i hope to make everything zero, preferably by 2 enormous bodies of observation of equal weight, but i may end up just turning my head.

2002-02-15T20:12:00.000-06:00

smile 02/03/02

i can't help myself sometimes, its too easy to feel. so easy to wrap myself in the sullen arms of mind. saturnine memories of the eventual and never was begin to move about. i still remember all the discussions we never had and the heights we'll never rise to. i stop myself now, i stop feeling, stop dreaming. what is it all for? perpetuating a fantasy that feels so good about something that will never happen, something i'll never feel. it only makes things worse. the realizations come quicker now, suddenly, with more force. knocked from a dream with my own fist. laying on the floor hiding from it all, it still finds me. is it better to assume rejection, or receive it? i wonder, if i find the right spot, if i could keep it all away forever. unaffected and stern, a monument of strength. the cruelest form of suicide: to stop feeling, to stop caring, to stop loving, to stop breathing, to stop living. i'm certain i don't have the strength, but i can pretend. and you'd say "johnny its nice to see you feeling better."

2002-02-15T19:49:00.000-06:00

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