Archive for October, 2015

So, that’s what you’ve gotta do these days to get ahead: sell your soul. Wow, what price?

So, that’s what you’ve gotta do these days to get a head: decapitate your enemy and steal his/hers. Wow, what price?

Wo/men raped. Wo/men crucified. Cunts cut asunder, mutilated. Ancient monuments laid to waste. Country’s decimated. Woe is you, idiot child: Accountant, beloved father shot dead like a dog (because it’s easier than killing a cop).

And we stand by and speak hollow words while the world gets chewed up by hate. Hate speech is the least of it. … Yes, indeed. We try to prove our moral superiority by speaking love towards our mortal enemy. We tape our mouths shut and avoid speaking the words we hear in our internal dialogs. Shit, something’s wrong. They hate us so much they want to annihilate us. We burp water and fear looking bad.

I like looking at the shopping brochures, the catalogs, so glossy and informative. They remind me of what life is meant to be like, here and now, planet Earth.

The brochures remind me of what I should look like, what I should be wearing, how I should be standing (oh, those pretty models are such role models!).

The brochures are designed to tell me how I should be spending, of course, one way or another. Lusting. Spending my money and spending my life in aspiration (that would be nice!).

But sometimes the airbrushed artificiality of should-be-wannabe-life as portrayed on the pages backfires and pushes me over the edge, reminds me of the bleakness of what actually is. And how detached I really am, to even realize it …

He found it in death (yours, or his, one way or another). Lavrentiy wanted peace. Pause, listen to the silence, fleeting, it passes, much like life. Gone. Here. Gone. Recorded vaguely if you’re lucky. Then forgotten.

The white, the red and the black. Shorts and T-shirts, the girls run clumsily, yet still manage to look majestic, somehow. The youth of the future, past. The people destroyed.

Churchill masturbates, thousands fry, city destroyed to prove a point to a third party. Rape and desecration of Martin Luther’s statue. Gaia sighs and flees as far as she possibly can. The world is no longer worth repairing, people have made it this way – soon enough global warming will finish the tardy marble off. And Churchill masturbates. The stock exchanges are riding high. Money is made and shareholders are happy. As life ends. Red line. Black line. Dead. Your gains are futile.

In theory…

Posted: 2015-10-12 in Thoughts For The Day

In theory, any set of random numbers have as much chance of winning. It might as well be 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…

Jackpot!

In theory, any random human has as much chance of winning (or losing) in life.

Follow through: pain and suffering, procreation and masturbation, endurance of the cycle, humiliation and desecration.

That oh-so promising student, borderline genius, is now sleeping in mud under a bridge, enduring the come-down after an all-too-brief artificial high. Whilst the one-time failing pupil, who could barely read and write, is now rolling in wealth, after choosing (no, being assigned) the right trade.

Low.

Posted: 2015-10-12 in Thoughts For The Day

Low.

Like, feeling the need to change your lottery numbers, a real urge, but somehow knowing it won’t make any difference. Still, you spend anxious minutes/hours, agonizing over numbers and their meanings. You feel an affinity for one number, then you remember that it’s the birthday of one of your bitterest enemies – no, that won’t do. Yet, still, why should they have any more ownership of that number than you? Especially if it’s going to win you the lottery.

So, you agonize.

But you don’t know.

And you feel low.

Love Story.

Posted: 2015-10-09 in Thoughts For The Day

This morning we saw Venus, bright near the Moon. It was evocative. We held hands and contemplated. Deciding the outside world could not offer us any more today, we went inside and made love.