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May. 18th, 2004 @ 11:27 pm
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Art Bell "I've got one final question that I have to pose to you, with regard to our discussion on the internet. I interviewed Charles Ostman, an expert in nanotechnology...he predicts within the next few years, or even less, we will begin to encounter sentient entities within the internet."
Terence McKenna "I believe that will happen. Hans Moravick has written a lot about this...he's talked about how these AI's, these artificial intelligences, they learn 50,000 times faster than the human being. Well, if you turn one loose on the internet, where it can talk to all these computers, it can make 50,000 years of progress in one year. Moravick say's we're not even gonna know what hit us when these things come into being." |
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May. 16th, 2004 @ 12:30 pm
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i really wish there was a rapper who talked about doing lsd |
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god sometimes you just don't come throughCurrent Mood: like half of you dissapearing |
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Mar. 31st, 2004 @ 07:46 pm
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i can't even remotely afford any of the schools i want to go to. |
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Mar. 23rd, 2004 @ 09:12 pm
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ITS THAT FEELING ---a feeling like
right before you fall asleep, that total -letting-go- of everything, diving into everything, feeling the deep heartbeat of the universe. its standing barefoot on the face of euphoria and smiling back, smiling from your lips to the base of your spine. and the warm water feeling of swimming through the marvelous holographic spin-ride flying deeper still still deeper in out and through everything, tying around it, winding up and unwinding at the speed of light, no, faster, faster still and still still deeper
like resting on a cloud, on a cloud high above and yet right in the middle, the cosmic core, the source of all love and light and laughter and pain and sorrow and all it just draining down through the sieve of my mind into a bowl, collecting becoming thin twists of golden yarn, in in out through, weaving around tying looping and yet just being it all, weaving into the shape of that traffic light, that blade of grass, that man's eyelash, weaving up and through and landing softly on the cloud, the cloud that i am and that i see and i become and cover like a pillowcase and fill like feathers
and the streetlights were tooperfectyellow and the trees bent their backs over the road and the car humming and music softly sliding into my body...resting in my back...releasing me from the wires, the ropes that i feel like electrical chords poking out my back, my back keeping me all one piece in side, side of the ocean this side this is where there were no fish swimming but plenty of sky, open air between the water molecules and sea grassssss
where?
everywhere, i was EVERYWHERE i am and pulling the world along with me like dragging the sheets off the bed like a cape and pulling it all through me warm warm the pre-dream release of the right chemicals and reactions in the neural circuits of the brain, divine dancing electrons from one arbitrary atom to the next and my neck tingles like i'm about to fall asleep and the road keeps me floating through the world and with it and in it and now i am it again and again and deeper and still deeper- |
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ha
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Mar. 15th, 2004 @ 08:33 pm
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You're Canada!
People make fun of you a lot, but they're stupid because you've
got a much better life than they do. In fact, they're probably just jealous.
You believe in crazy things like human rights and health care and not
dying in the streets, and you end up securing these rights for yourself and
others. If it weren't for your weird affection for ice hockey, you'd be
the perfect person.
Take
the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid
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Mar. 10th, 2004 @ 05:27 pm
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i feel like i'm losing myself in the clouds. my brother and i have been smoking constantly, but it doesn't really matter to me. i feel so far removed from everything anyway, so what is a little smoke in the way. and it has been making me very productive. today alone i wrote about 18 pages of poetry.
i'm ghostlike, lost in the dust
romance is playing harsh games with me. and there is something in the back of my mind that is making me somewhat down. i just feel generally useless right now. even creating anything is a struggle.
i put in an application at that new vitamin store today. i hope i get the job. i need something to jostle me, get my blood moving. and a little money would be nice.
maybe if i could get this play performed around here i would finish it. maybe if i had better software i would finish some songs. maybe the sky was blue yesterday, but my growing distaste for color in general has kept my eyes in my hands.
i wish it was easier to get lsd out here
i don't have enough really good conversations with people. hopefully college will be good for that, as conversations are my primary inspiration for dramatic writing.
all petty shit. frustration frustration frustration frustration
( Poem )Current Music: moby - all that i need is to be loved |
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i want to fall into disrepair,
i want to be made new, to be
reborn of my oldness, my sameness.
tear me open, lord, and search
my spirit with your
burning fingertips. see me, take me
into your eyes and dissolve me into what
you see, what you know.
Mar. 6th, 2004 @ 01:57 am
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| » (No Subject) |
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so, there was once a
SOUL in here!
but it was dragged out and it
was slow and i watched as i tore
like velcro, my
soft body became as meaningless
as clay.
i dried up in
the sun like fermenting grapes, i
was washed out by his bitter stare.
to keep her heart beating i
climbed inside, moved
through her and with her, with
the current pulling us together
her fingers separated me like
hair, and slowly the trees
all died and we watched from
the hill overlooking
the dock, the gaudy houses, my mind was
wandering with his toes in
the water, my heart sandwiched
between her thumbs.
but i didn't
feel anything, which was
odd, because
until that moment
that was all i could ever do.
Mar. 6th, 2004 @ 01:44 am
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| » (No Subject) |
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at this same moment that i am turning away from my self, i am turning into myself. i found my mind trapped in an echo within an echo, and my heart within a scream. it felt like swimming in a mirror, to see the world from an angle at which the mirror and the object it reflects don't exactly 'melt' together, but they become the same thing, despite the inherent contradictions of one being exactly reversed, one being an illusion, an image of the other, not real. but the thing is that nothing is real, and at the same time everything is real! while i float in a sea of pulsating hearts, all tuned to the same frequency but hearing different broadcasts, i can't help but feel love on the outside of my skin like water after bathing. and soon it dries, leaving only the memory, the illusion of love, but, as i said, who is to say an 'illusion' is less legitimate than anything else? maybe the illusion of love, my love for you, is as good as the real thing, as long as i realize that you are you as well as an illusion of you, simultaneously.
and there is not contadiction! i was wandering inside the world while consciously aware of my external perspective. and i saw that same mirror paradigm reflected in the face of a girl who sat next to me accidently, in the white walls and gray floors, in the leaf that fell from a tree and landed in my hair. i saw that same half-mirror/half-real perspective as i gazed upon the world, and in the world i saw myself reflected. and as i watched my hand follow its ghost in the eyes of that girl, i never deceived myself with time, and yet i still deceive myself. i never believed in contradiction because to contradict there must be a space, and space is as much of an illusion as time. and yet i float in space. i say tomorrow will come, and yet i realize that to say that tomorrow will come is rather funny, because that is like saying a car is stationary and the world is running underneath it. and yet that unconscious deception of self is not some malacious demon, running wild with his fiery feet along the canopy of the burning forest of my psyche, because the deception and acknowledgement of deception are one!
there was a moment of doubt that stayed far longer than a moment is usually welcome. and then joy, rapture, divinity kissed my forehead leaving a burnmark in the shape of an eye.
Mar. 4th, 2004 @ 09:21 pm
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| » FUCK |
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timothy and andrew are both gone. :-\
Feb. 29th, 2004 @ 09:45 pm
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| » we've got something they can never take away |
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it seems to me that the vast majority of people are being controlled in at least one area by a low-budget 1920's propaganda film. even many who smoke marijuana have behaviors toward it that can be described by two words: reefer madness.
marijuana will never make you kill a little girl, kill your best friend, get you pregnant, burn down your house, waste your life. only the individual can do that. if s/he is in a situation where marijuana can alter his/her judgement to such a dangerous degree, that is the individual's fault, not the drug's fault.
reefer madness. most people have it. most people think marijuana is the devil's weed. even many who smoke believe it is wrong just because of public opinion, because of meaningless ignorance-based laws. "the notion of illegal plants or animals is both obnoxious and ludicrous." - terrence mckenna
its a rush to break the law, to do something as taboo as a drug. thats no reason to do anything. yet i'm sure that would be a primary factor in the actions of many drug users. if it was legal, it seems to me the reasons why most people use it would change drastically. it wouldn't be something glamorized by the criminal element, but a tool of those on the road to enlightenment.
it is every just man's duty to disobey unjust laws. something being illegal is in no way enough of a reason to not do it. we need to change things, we need to change everything. i dedicate myself not to getting a job and starting a family, not to going to college to get trained for my algorithm in the cold computational society i was born into. i dedicate my life to change. we need change.
WE NEED A RADICAL REDEFINITION OF WHAT IT MEANS TO BE ALIVE
Feb. 29th, 2004 @ 02:01 pm
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| » (No Subject) |
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"That pipe is for smoking tobacco. Or marijuana!"
- Quigley, quoting a Mexican merchant
Feb. 23rd, 2004 @ 03:18 pm
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| » suddenly, both machines stopped breathing. |
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today, while the ocean was still, there came a point when the calm waters lapped up against the horizon, and the sky touched the sea. looking out from the beach, we saw the sky and sea become one massive blue infinity, stretching before us and above and through us. we woke several hours later wearing different shoes; mine were now the color of Aphrodite's clam shell.
two pairs of footprints, matching eachother like two warring gods in a theatre of sacred mirrors, whose holy magic was lacking in these dreary days, wandered up the coast. we spoke in waves of engery being exchanged by imaginary organs, some new kind of heart that evolution has not allowed yet. at the dock we recognized a face in the water, reflecting some absent object. the object should have been a man who i had met several weeks ago in the small indian cafe east of main, where we drove but never parked. i was thumbing through the pages of some eastern holy book, an ancient tome akin to the vedas, but of a more philosophic and secret kind. he sat across the room, a room rich in the indian flavors of incense and tea. he sat meditating on a bamboo mat near a bookshelf that held golden novelties instead of books when his absent eyes drifted to mine, and i felt myself becoming a thread in the fabric of his being.
i pulled my eyes away from the shining water and we walked, never mentioning to eachother any intended destination. reaching into my pocket i found a few yellowed leaves of paper, which were marked with deep romantic characters of some forgotten language. i forgot the leaves and let the wind take them.
i decided to let time tie my shoes, which although beautiful were impractical. in his mystical waiting room i saw a man holding the head of a swordfish and two others shouldering the body of a withered yet beautiful woman, whose composure gave the impression of an old preserved flower pressed in a book. he said he would see me then, and i passed the paralyzed rose and went straight through the open door. tripping into the room i saw a painting on the wall radiating heat waves which awakened something in my sense of touch which made it seem like more than a survialist post-instinct, giving it the lucidity of sight and the dignity of hearing. after passing the piece the feeling fell into my memory, which was becoming as unreliable as the bubbling stew of some malevolent witch.
it was a quiet improvement, adding a bit of courage to my step. but i was not able to walk far before being assalted by what i thought to be two able-bodied men. in the darkness of that barren place i could not make out any facial characteristics, altough i later found that light would not have helped me do so. i heard fresh water running as the thugs held me in their claws, which were warm and lightly humming like simple machines. inexplicably i fell onto the same darkness from which i had been lifted. i tried to analyze my current predicament but found doing me so only made it more difficult to understand. trying to stand up, i recognized that the two machine-like brutes were still there, still keeping up that monotone humming. one approached as if to speak. i tasted metal in the air. suddenly, both machines stopped breathing, so i escaped the darkness by falling deeper into it, and coincidently (or perhaps not so), into myself.
Feb. 21st, 2004 @ 03:20 pm
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| » <3 |
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Feb. 16th, 2004 @ 07:41 pm
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| » ...occasionally glancing up through the rain |
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wow, what a strangely beautiful day. i felt meditative and calmed, reassured of something i was afraid of losing: an idea. i feel like some kind of structure is developing in me, and i see the sun rising into an exagerated sea. there are strange birds pearched and eating figs on the steel branches that make the ridiculous canopy of this or that retail store, that franchised forest of the inadequacy of our society versus our creator's. i walked through a pane of glass, a strange contained wall of gravity working against me. and from a nuclear ball of light i balance all pieces of myself, keeping them in some silly orbit until i can free myself of them completely. my life will become sentient light to the star of my consciousness, rather than independent planets spiraling in a ludicrous dance from horizon to horizon.
Feb. 14th, 2004 @ 07:20 pm
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| » finnegan's awake |
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finnegan's awake, and his pink eyes remind
me that my brother never made it home
last night.
snow
snow is real, it doesn't fall on us but
we fall
ON TO
it, and the roads
aren't roads, they lead
only to a dusty infinity, only to distance
and the geometry i have here
that romance of geometry, of being locked
in an illusion
Feb. 12th, 2004 @ 06:55 am
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| » (No Subject) |
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me and half the
people in
the world decided
to rush the gates
of heaven.
half of us
made it in alive, and
fell blinded
and screaming, the
other half
wandered in the desert
waiting
for the moon to rise.
Feb. 12th, 2004 @ 06:50 am
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| » (No Subject) |
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EHH i am so frustrated right now. it mostly has to do with the consciousness problem, and my inability to focus on anything. i need to get out of this environment, this high school environment. i have to do this at this time to have this ARBITRARY number attached to my name. i have to wake up now so i can learn this.
i want to take fucking philosophy classes, lit courses that do not involve reducing poetry to mechanical processes. i want to learn about playwriting, electronic music, jazz, christ anything but fucking HEALTH, gym, TWO GODDAMN STUDYHALLS! WHAT AN IDIOTIC WASTE OF TIME! i want to better myself, to grow, to accomplish something. i know the basics, i have since middle school. at this point, my education should be in my hands. i am sick of being forced into a mold of what i am supposed to know. it is fucking ridiculous. i feel like a ghost in school. i walk in circles, up and down staircases like there is an end, like soon it will be the last staircase, the last hallway, like there is an ending. but i have this fear that after highschool i will only find these idiotic societal structures further imposed on me, only to a lesser or perhaps more subtle degree. i need liberation, i need liberation from the free world.
Feb. 11th, 2004 @ 09:33 pm
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| » (No Subject) |
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i just got fifty dollars, who wants to smoke?
well, at least i got that sandwich to look forward to.
Feb. 11th, 2004 @ 08:09 pm
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starvingprince's journal