Posts tagged ‘fuck’

February 26, 2013

Inertia

This … is inertia, a sudden halt from mechanical movement, a speed bump in the exceedingly fast paced rat race that is the natural environment. Instead of rats, we are but perfectly spherical metal balls rolling without friction, without boundaries, in constant chaotic motion until we stop and hit these metaphoric speed bumps. Then… inertia. In this state, we mellow, we wait, we change. As absurd and as obscure as the transformation of Gregor Samsa we change without us knowing how or why, without even believing that we actually do, in constant denial and simultaneously adapting we redefine our thoughts of what was and convert those into what should be. As masochistic as slicing fresh onions with the same aim to add taste and colour to what equates as bland. The phenomenon of procrastination and the impacts they mould. The constant dialectics of learn and unlearn until  much learnt comes off as useless, obsolete pieces of scrap, wrecked by the ever constant expansion, and shrinkage, of time and space perceived objectively only to those without sanity in which sanity is the final barrier to experiencing living truly and naturally. The mind tricks ourselves into the constant wants perceived as needs perceived as importance, of high priority. Yet, the mind yearns for an end, an end of existence, an end of repetition, a permanent inertia. 

And so, inertia, in need of a push to reach a state of motion. At least, averting the gutters that might cause the perfect spherical metal ball to halt in its motion. Unto its final state of inertia until immobility ensnaring it permanently.

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February 13, 2013

The Unsoluble Dichotomy

He visualizes his own end: death. Never is he free from the dichotomy of existence: he cannot rid himself of his mind, even if he should want to; he cannot rid himself of his body as long as he is alive — and his body makes him want to be alive. Reason, man’s blessing, is also his curse; it forces him to cope everlastingly with the task of solving an insoluble dichotomy. Human existence is different in this respect from that of all other organisms; it is in a state of constant and unavoidable disequilibrium. Man’s life cannot “be lived’ by repeating the pattern of his species; he must live. Man is the only animal than can be bored, that can feel evicted from paradise. Man is the only animal who finds hos own existence a problem which he has to solve and from which he cannot escape. He cannot go back to the pre-human state of harmony with nature; he must proceed to develop his reason until he becomes the master of nature, and of himself. But man’s birth ontogenetically as well as phylogenetically is essentially a negative effect. He lacks the instinctive adaptation to nature, he lacks physical strength, he is the most helpless of all animals at birth, and in need of protection for a much longer period of time than any of them.

(Fromm 1955:23)

October 10, 2012

Voisez III

I am not here to lecture, for who am I? One of the many unspecials roaming the walk of life, assimilating with the majority, finding its place in society. Being part of the great dramaturgy. Wearing all these masks and goggles exchanging one with the other and on the way collecting more. Learning, as well as advising, at least trying to advise what little we have learned to others that face what we have faced before. To face all with all these synthetic faces. Being, more or less, human.

Depression, one of the most common “mind disease” or commonly referred as disorders. I have seen once, with my own eyes, how depression can really consume someone’s sanity. Knowing this fact, it has always been somewhat a reminder for me, to endlessly seek for better coping mechanisms on how to at least suppress these faceless voices, the hallucination, and the constant overburdening fear and anxiety that comes abrupt and almost unnoticeable. Writing this almost meaningless — and mostly for archival purposes — post is one of them. Pin-pointing where in my life in which I start to feel these insecurities, and analysing what little data there is. As always, the mind is one of the biggest jerks that we face in our lives. In the face of instability it seems that the mind, as illogical as it seems, tries to go against sanity. A very queer mechanism. In the face of high priority problems, the mind just seems to quit, its like there is this sort of “fuck this” switch which could be toggled in an instant without the knowledge of it’s owner. Befell in depression, and just clawing your way out of a well filled with thick mud. Difficult as hell, and the  more we try the more we freak out because somehow it seems to not work. But then we justify ourselves, that this thick mud will soon settle and harden, which means that at least one problem from the eternal shit-list will automatically solve itself, on how to climb out of the well is a completely different problem also nestled somewhere in the eternal shit-list. Do we wait for some good-natured passer by come to the rescue, ladder/rope  in hand? or do we claw our way to the top with the spare energy still left in our souls after struggling just to survive the mud? Again, it is choices, options, wants, and needs. Something so abundant, which for the same reason, becomes the catalyst as well as the obstacle in reaching whatever it is we strive to reach.

There.

Depression averted, for now.

The big bulging feeling inside the head has more or less subsided. The voices squawk no more. Anxiety  lifted by the sound of flutes from my headphone.

Flutes, fucking flutes from a score sheet created hundreds of years past by Mozart.

It takes, an attempted suicide, and a visit to a dear friend in the psychiatric ward, for me at least, to really understand the workings of depression and the struggle to survive this so-called mental illness. To actually survive life, to not give in. To actually put a real meaning to “earning life and all its perks”. We owe ourselves that at least, a chance to earn something. A dream of an average length but fruitful life.

September 7, 2011

A Dick Thing to Say… (From a male point of view)

 People without sexual relations are usually more timorous compared to those who have experienced it. In my opinion anyway (please note that this article as a whole is pure ramble and assumption). Sexual relations here refers to: not exclusively coitus but also foreplay or peripheral sexual activities – petting is one of the main examples. More so if the partner is of mutual consent (not solicited or rape). Whether there is a direct link between sex and timidity I have no valid data, but very simple observations confirm this. There is a confidence, more specifically a phallic confidence, a type of confidence that arises from the concept of: “someone appreciates this thing dangling on my crotch”. This is multiplied by positive feedback regarding the performance of “thing dangling on my crotch” owner from user. Whether it be a sigh, a smile, a gesture, or direct words. The appreciation from a partner creates confidence, because in the end we are still basic mammals underneath all the glitter and chrome that portrays society as humane and civilized that still takes pride on the function of our genitals.

Ego booster or placebo? The feeling of adrenaline, loss of control, primal instincts kicking in, are adequate enough to topple fear and worry boosting the ego and consequent confidence. But is it real? Placebo projects has made me believe that psychological suggestion actually effects physical being. We are what we believe we are in compliment to who we were. Understanding these mechanics are the actual key to really balancing the option-chances/wants-needs that occur in life. True orgasm. Universal fulfillment.

Even the most paranoid and germ-phobic person would let go of fears and do it in a public bathroom stall because the mind numbs and falls into a state of frenzied crave dismissing all logic. To harvest this power is to paving the path to self control and – In extreme conditions – world domination. If we can actually arouse some sort of adrenaline driven, primal psychological state, and physical being by will alone, it would seem hard to find any form of obstacle. But then again there are emotions and other factors that steer us away from a totally unbiased state of sober self control. Being the basic mammals that we are, emotions still come as an integrated packet which we can not fully deny.

It is these emotions – and other factors – that acts as a barrier in reaching our full potential. That said, full potential is actually a myth, an illusion of, an ideal type of sorts. Melancholicly (this is not a word) speaking, in context to the aforementioned phallic confidence, when the physical pleasure is substituted by emotional wants1 the understanding of domination is replaced by submission. For dominant types this results in extreme insecurities, because the imagination of dominance is clouded by the fear of subordination even though in reality they still are dominant. At this point the phallic confidence crumbles and leaves only a residue of itself. This residue is a complexion of fear, anxiety, self-pity, and paranoia rolled into one tiny atom, most likely hydrogen. Little effort is needed to trigger nuclear fusion.

The conclusion: simply, we all need to fill our needs every once in a while and gain confidence from crotch-oriented pleasures even the barriers acquired from emotional instability. This is human and necessary.

Yes, it is that shallow.

1Emotional are always wants, physical are almost always needs and are almost always logical.
June 22, 2011

From This Height, The 19th Floor, The Centre of It All

From this height the city seems cold, dull, and uninviting. Despite the fact that there, in the middle of commerce, stands a monument with statuettes raising their arms, in a manner of openness and warmth. Still, it seems faked. Despite the fact the architecture of surrounding buildings are magnificent, from here it seems just flat and unattractive. Despite that today is the city’s so called “birthday”, festivities do not promote the surge of euphoria one hopes for. Would it be the thick smog that sucks the very life out of the pedestrians? Or is it just the tenacity of the people, not  to the city, but to the driving force of a band of ever-searching infinite contentment? Or is it just here? The 19th floor?

It feels like, overlooking everything, being in the position of the panoptic, but on the other hand unable to see anything at all. Not because there is nothing in physical form, but because there is nothing of interest to see. Traveling by bus, seeing a lot of people, realizing there are none at all. People stop becoming people as they avoid eye contact, searching aimlessly for a blank spot on the floor or ceiling to focus on, trying to be as cold and closed as they possibly can be. We, of the city, are soulless. We are forced into individuality without the possibility of an individual character. Lemmings. A term some would use that i feel very much fits this phenomenon. Lemmings (the rodents not the video game) are well known to migrate in large groups, blindly following a leader; a trend setter, often to their deaths. Our leader, our trend setter, is fear. This fear is what we follow, a fear to be left out of the group, lonely and isolated. We are ourselves therefore we shall never be alone. We shall never be the same therefore we shall never be alone. We are isolated only in our minds therefore we shall never be alone.

We are similar in variation, by this fact, we will always relate to whatever is thrown at us. To conform is to be fake, to adhere to conformity is to die a non-fatal death. But then again, we enjoy dying, for dying leads to quenching our thirst. Our thirst for establishment. Establishment makes us happy. This is the formula and forever will be true. It comes in many forms: capital, art, goals, epiphanies, welfare. Establishment are these things and more. The popular paradigm is of course capital, for in the modern world capital may allow us to buy other establishments, fulfilling the need to obtain. The city of false hopes and overrated desires. The needs fulfilled temporarily, eternally. Ironic is that i am writing this from the 19th floor, myself contained in the rat race of capital fulfillment. Yet, again paradox interrupts, alas we have our options served and choices made up. We, of the city, the lemmings, the soulless, the blank floor searchers, are addicts of banality and boredom. But in the end we shall survive eventually, more or less intact.

April 14, 2011

The Meaning of “Meaning” …and Many Other Pretentious Existentialist Crap Like That

It  wasn’t the first time they said “We need to meet up, i need you.” but somehow it was the first time I realized I actually meant something. A justifiable boost of ego of course, but nonetheless I have meaning for someone. I account for something.

So,

Meaning.

“What is meaning?”

This phrase is so often in question that  — although never answered — it becomes cliché and jaded, the question of meaning has become meaningless. Based on that particular fact, let us rephrase the question. Instead of asking what it is, we should say “Define meaning!”. Definitions are the closest thing to valid arguments, there is a systematic and logical way of thinking to elaborate these definitions which makes it, well, logical. But trying to be logical in defining meaning would mean that defining meaning is hard, for meaning itself is sometimes illogical (A trinket could at some times be more meaningful than life, a plot of land could be more meaningful than family, financial gain could be more meaningful than friendship, etc. ).  Because of this illogic that attaches itself to meaning, the interconnection lays in its subjective quality.

Something, to us, will have meaning when it has value or function. Say, a safety blanket or a teddy bear; these are things that have emotional values and functions as a comforter. Meaning is constructed by these two factors. Value and function. These are probably why there are terms like “fake friends” or “dysfunctional families” which comes to use. Relationships that contains no value or function whatsoever. Well, maybe a little but probably insignificant to categorize it as meaningful. But again, this is subjective, what is meaningless for one is not always true for others. You can be “fake” for one person and “true” for another, depending on the observers position and opinion.

Then what am I? If I am meaningful, it means that I am merely functional. I am a tool. But if I am not a tool, I am nothing. In nothing we shall perish alone. Not that I want to commit mass suicide and take everyone with me, but it would be great if someone took in kind a memory of me.

Fickle is the mind in understanding the wants and needs. Reorganizing and classifying shifting interchangeable thoughts of  what would matter the least. We, or if you object, I, think too much too often. Over-thinking assumed consequences that probably will never happen. Which comes as an unnecessary safeguard, useless even. But yet, knowing this, we continue to construct thoughts of pessimistic nature just because of the urge of wanting to feel. The need to feel. An addiction to melancholy or at least feeling meaningless, yet at the same time knowing that there is an abundance meaning for some. There are those who have the need to search out for you, a very high valued meaning indeed. The redundancy of feeling self-loath only dismisses the value above. It becomes banal.

Meaning reconstructed: are we truly living a lie?

Since meaning is, at the very beginning, constructed then reconstruction is only a modification of its original form. So may reconstruction aid us into sanity, into inner peace, into a form of conformed redundant jaded banality.

March 17, 2011

Adhere

It is blasphemy, not in a religious sense though. More of a deviation in rationality. Blasphemy in it’s most secular form. What? I cannot truly say, it is a model, a prototype of the extremely profane. It is the epitome of next to nothing. It is the sound of self reassembly, cunningly forming a mould for use in the post-modern era. It is leased life, fully unoriginal, yet accepted by the norms. It is evolution remixed and remastered with a hint of reverberation  and distortion. It is unsalted, bland, yet to a certain degree: a culinary masterpiece. It fits yet it is incompatible. It is the synonym and antonym of all that has been created and destroyed.

Adhere! To those we fail to supply affection and/or apply to. Adhere! For we are misguided freaks craving for attention. Adhere! For we are in a solution of chaos and disinformation.

March 9, 2011

The Art of Melancholy

What an emo fucking title I wrote… -APS

We are creatures of habit, once we have constructed a method or model in which we carry out actions, we usually stick to those methods no matter what, even if it isn’t the most effective. Naturally, if those method fails, we try to blame factors other than ourselves, a combination of denial and justification. This is the art of melancholy.

It is melancholic because we nag about pretenses and assumptions on what went wrong, that this chaos was mould by our environment, by society. True, they do play a big part in our daily fuck-ups and we wont be what we are without their contribution, but to classify them as the main and exclusive clause is somewhat over-rated. We earn what our actions produce, a fuck-up only occurs strictly when an action is delivered, without us (the actor) there would be no fuck up, secondary elements which contribute to this fuck-up are miniscule, they only add to the fuck-up which was originally produced by the individual actor.

Introspect: we, who we are, are responsible to every crap and/or yield that presents itself in our lives. Retrospect: our actions, what we have done in the past, are the main catalysts of the crap and/or yield that presents itself in our lives. But even that said, complaining is a justifiable coping mechanisms in dealing with crap mentioned above. Denied and justified by myself of course.

July 30, 2009

we are what we are and what we find so far away are again ourselves

We curse up in the air, relentlessly waiting for some divine answer. But then later we screw ourselves again and again and again. Talk about redemption and progress, it seems we have this ability to screw ourselves in so many ways it somehow becomes tiresome and jaded.
Somehow it seems we try harder and harder to achieve this screwed up state we come to be. And somehow we seem to keep looking for an entity to hold on to, to ease us from disorientation. And – again – somehow those we hold dearly in our hearts fail time and time again.
We are but mirror images to one another, a universally scaled fun house where we see ourselves in different physical shapes and sizes yet still the same. Our distorted images tend to scare us into thinking of what we could be, unreasonable fears, paranoia. Occasionally these distorted mirror images of us haunts us, seeking comfort to it’s less distorted counterpart, the entity to hold to ease it’s disorientation. Yet somehow those mirror images fail to show, hiding in the darkness of the light, shy and emotional. For that distorted image has somehow broken it’s counterpart.