Thursday, July 22, 2010

Journey through the cosmic colon

what do i want? I want something. Something. ?Who? who wants what?

I'm spinning my wheels. I'm just trying to ask a simple question, and get a simple answer: what do I want?

Apparently it's not such a simple question. or a simple answer, because the answer is you don't want anything. Don't want anything.

And I wonder why I don't do anything big, don't rock the boat. Of course not, if there's nothing I want to do, to have. I just do the normal things of life. Eat, sleep, jack off to porn, keep myself from getting bored with videos. Sometimes I can't even stand watching videos, and I just sit, doing nothing at all. Sometimes I journal, like this, looking for answers. Hoping that something will spill out accidentally, really, just happy to be moving my fingers, just happy to talk to space, to try and put words to this ever so slippery experience. I check gmail, Facebook, the blogs I'm subscribed to, in the hopes of being in contact with another human being. Other people take away the silence. They take away the aloneness, which breeds this nothingness.

For now, I'm trying to get more comfortable in my skin, in my brain, in my life. The reality I perceive works a certain way, and when I try to make it act a different way, it hurts, and it fails. I'm guessing that the only way to make my life work is to play by the rules. The rules are the perceptions I have of my existence, my memories of my experience, what works, what doesn't work.

I kinda want to go look at some porn now, rub one out so I can go to bed (if I don't, I'm wired for another two to three hours, just lying in bed with the lights off.) and forget all about this.

But I also kinda just want someone to talk to. I want someone I can really talk to though. This blog, believe it or not, is way more censored and toned down than my personal journal. That journal is totally free form, stream of consciousness, everything goes. Sometimes I get the text to voice feature of my computers wordpad program to read sections back to me. It's super entertaining. Especially considering what I've written. The ravings of a perverted madman, as dictated by a robot. perhaps I should give you a tast of it, for your curiosities sake. well, ok, I'll write it here, but I'll re-read it and see if it's actually safe for print:

wax on wax off. fuck me. egotistical bullshit.

I am nothing.
not right at all: I ask the question, "who am i " or "who is it that acts."
fine. now I travel with that question, to the answer. It's like falling down a rabbit hole, but at the bottom of the whole, I fall through, and suddenly I'm in outer space. Vast, empty, black, surrounded in points of light. This is not nothing, but I don't know what it is. It is a big unknown. if it has qualities, they are not qualities that can be spoken. No words can describe it. Like a reverse Lovecraft monster: it is beyond words, yes, beyond comprehension, but in a good way. It is peaceful. It is destruction of all that I thought I was. Not real destruction that, just the kind of destruction you get when you say, destroy that woman over there with the beautiful blond hair, when you go to hit on her and it turns out it's a man in drag. That woman has been completely annihilated, as if she never existed. Because she never did, except as a mistaken concept you had. Just an idea with no corresponding physical counterpart.

So to, the idea that I am anything namable is gone when I ask, "who am I" because it takes me there, and also gone is the feeling of superiority, inferiority, or free will, or rather, separate will, when I ask the question, "who is the actor, the do-er?" And get shot out the same cosmic butthole into infinite space.

Into what I can only assume is God.
One thing I'm carful about right now, is I don't want to say I've arrived anywhere (common thread with me eh? It's because people who make themselves sound all great and stuff piss me off, and so I don't want to become one of them. I hate myself enough already)

I think that arrival should be concurrent with something I could label "bliss." God is good, right? I'm not interested in intelectual bullshit, even if it's perfectly reasoned. I want my heart to have a place to rest. I want joy. I'm not willing to settle for intelectual satisfaction.

I actually recall my old teacher saying something about that, in one of his myriad tapes. Something like, "the first stage of enlightenment, the mind is finally satisfied, it can rest, but then the heart takes over, and wants to be satisfied as well, and it doesn't get satisfied until every last thing is completely unified.

well, I guess that's not really related. What I'm talking about is not unification. it's just feeling good in my heart. I will assume that is what the experience of reality, fully experienced, feels like. Otherwise, whats the fucking point?

It's a simple enough equation, like one of those programming diagrams:

[are you satisfied?]
Y--> your done, stop trying to grow/get enlightened etc.
N--> keep trying-->back to question [are you satisfied?]

ok, I'm done. I either need a walk, a shag, or a sit and stare at the darkness while hurting emotionally. hell, why not all three? Life is full.

until next time, fuck you San Francisco.
i o

.... ok, that was about halfway between my normal posts and my insane-o private journal. I can't seem to do the insane-o journal thing with people watching. Well, I guess I'll go do that a bit before the other three.

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