The Last Life

An unappetizing mix of chemical dependency and depression.  The kind of depression that mutes color and sound.  That makes sex uninteresting, and people into objects.  Who is the great and powerful auctioneer?  Who is selling all these slaves?  

There isn't anything glorious about working your whole life.  There isn't anything glorious about a cathedral.   They built the wrong things.  They kept secrets.  Each greedy hand held something back, and never gave enough to make a difference.  

Poverty is not a social disease.  It is a byproduct of the system and it is ineveitable.  There is more than enough money to go around, but we are not the ones in control.  I have no power.  I have no say.  I have to work so that I can feed myself and the ones I love.  Love is the leverage they use against us so that we will not stop working.  The police is what they use when that love turns violent.  We are trapped in a prison.  There is no escape.  All we can do is decorate the walls and watch television.  We can make something and sell it.  We can work harder.

I am drained, exhausted.  My mind is fried.  I've been thinking about thinking about changing my life.  I've been waiting for something to happen, but all that has transpired in my life is arbitrary and accidental.  Everything about where I am from, a place less than 300 years old, is about being something else.  You make yourself a little empire and you crown yourself king.  Ruler of all things.  Master of possibility.  This is the last life I'll be able to make for myself and it has already begun to crumble.  Like a wounded soldier trying to stuff his guts back into his abdomen after a shell goes off, or a laborer tasked with digging a latrine in a rain storm.

Vile{ward} (excerpt from The Last Life)

It is in the eyes of those who see you.  It is in their minds.  You are nothing and you will die alone.

You are nothing but meat and bone.  You are the illusion.  You are the last of your kind.

The street is empty at night, clean of people but still full of filth.  Garbage floats in stagnant puddles and mounds of ants build at the base of light poles.  A burnt down house, just wreckage over a foundation greets me at my back door.  It has been that way for most of the year.  My neighbors saw the fire that burned it down, but I slept through it.  I can't always sleep, but when I do, its usually strong sleep.  

I keep the dog close on the chain while I walk.  He's a pit bull and he wants to run and play.  I tell Him he's a good boy.  He digs his face into his crotch ferociously after a flea or something.  Fleas and other insects are the dominate species in this city.  We just live here in their world.  If they were big enough, they'd have eaten us already.

I don't know why I'm awake at this hour.  The emptiness of the city always depresses me and makes me think about death.  It took me years to realize that I wasn't a victim, but I thought that I would be eventually after all the television I'd watched.  Everybody on TV always has such a hard time.  

I'm walking the dog at 3:00 in the morning and I don't fear victimization, but every time I see someone on the street I prepare for some sort of confrontation.  Maybe they'll say something about me not picking up after my dog.  He leaves grimy piles of shit in the slivers of grass in front of all these nice town homes.  Maybe I wasn't built for city life.  

They grew me in the suburbs.  There's no telling why.

A man is walking down the street about a hundred yards off.  He sees me.  Sees the black dog on the chain.  The dog stiffens whenever he sees anyone new.  The man crosses the street and goes in the other direction.  He avoided looking me in the eye.  He never got close to us.

I'll have to appear meeker if I ever wish to have a confrontation.  Perhaps the pit bull doesn't help.

I can't sleep.  I can smell the sewer underneath my house.  The fleas on the dogs have become resistant to high grade insecticides.  I found one on me while I was at dinner.  The truth of the matter has eluded me.  Am I really just one vile word away from a psychotic episode?  It feels that way. It feels that way all the time.

  

WORSE THAN HELL

The shift happened before.  Eons ago, before language and consciousness took hold of our species.  The Dimensions cannot coexist.  30,000 years ago, the cycle completed and life on this planet was subjected to the pain and torment of an accellerated and hellish dimension.  It does not have a name.  In this universe, life forms evolve dramatically and engage in constant combat over resources.  It was early man that first experienced the shift and it forever changed what man would become.  Another 30,000 year cycle is coming to a close and there isn't person alive that is prepared for a world worse than hell.  In this universe beings of dark energy prey on consciousness and etherial parasites haunt the minds of every day people.  On october 30th 2012, the dimensions will pass through one another and humanity will see what has plagued them for the first time in recorded history.  

Fear and specific unknowns (death and the void of space)

The use of fear as a tool of social control is as old as civilization.  It is the means by which all we consider to be great or powerful has ever been built.  We fear what we cannot control.  We fear death and the unknown beyond.  We fear cataclysm and collapse.  There is no saving us from this fear.  Nothing can assuage it.  We have to face it.  We have to fight our tendencies toward weakness.  We have to look at death and the void of space as a challenge.  Our future is uncertain as long as we fear these things.  As long as we envision others doing our work, we will all be slaves. 

As long as we deny our loneliness, we will be alone.  As long as we are uncertain, as long as we fear, we will be lonely and lowly slaves to our desires, the sins that the church always tells you about.  The truth is that there is no sin in love and plenty.  The moral teachings of all religions are meant to moderate behavior.  Conscious willing participation is required for these teachings to take root and for any behavior modification to take place.  It is easier just to raise children to believe the way you want them to believe.  When you raise a child to believe in something all knowing and all powerful, you handicap their minds.  A religious authority of any kind is destructive towards the goal of peace.  Humanity will believe as individuals.  And they will believe the truth, once they see it.

 

Us versus Them

The Have and Have not Problem:

The monetary system has created pockets of poverty in every country that has accepted the system. These populations generate their own kind of social energy. It is called unrest.

The system is not static, but it does not actually change. Change is viewable and only happens over time. If the change comes to fast, as in nature, it is usually a flood, or a volcanic eruption or an earthquake that results. There are measurable, physical parameters that define equilibrium and balance. Do we need law when we know what we need to avoid things like violence? Do we need the law at all?

The law is used to protect those who have, while the system automatically creates more who are not part of the establishment. The law is written by those who are considered part of the establishment. Self interest is impossible to avoid. We act according to our self interest, or in the interests of those we consider to be important to us. It is exactly this reason why people follow those who specifically say that you should love and forgive everyone, especially those who are least likely to accept it.

Us VERSUS Them *(the big illness)

Truth, Utopia, Doomsayers and Judgement---


The spirit of competition. Professional sports. The lame joke that is baseball. Is everything a Racket? Does nothing happen in this country that doesn't take money from the many and give it to the few? What is the point of being rich? What is the point of being powerful, or even famous? Is it that people listen to you? Are they more likely to listen to you? What is the American ethos? It should be, What is the American Psychopathology? What the fuck is wrong with this country and what can we do about it? I don't think the answer is more entertainment. I don't think more government will do it either. More people equals more government. More government means more taxes. More taxes means more work. More work means more industry. More industry means globalization...eventually.



There is going to be one government someday.


I can't think of any natural laws that would preclude this line of reasoning. Why would they want one government? Why wouldn't they? Who are they? Are we them or are we us? What point is there in making a distinction unless it is for the purposes of government?
Does a nation need an enemy in order to prosper? Do people need nations? All we really know is that people need each other.


What can be described as abhorrent or criminal behavior is just side effects of the big illness. The big illness is not an illness. The big illness is the truth. The truth is pedophilia and ritualistic abuse. The truth is rape, murder and war. The truth is the meekness and the snivelingsubhumanity that passes unnoticed amongst those who hadn't the fortitude to imagine that people were capable of such things. The truth and the big illness are the same thing. The truth is always worse than it seems.


Drop your veneer of kindnesses. Be straight with us. Tell us the worst of it. We can take it. We're strong.
We've been desensitized to violence through decades of grotesque glorification of evil and sickness. We are prepared to accept the possibility that there is no ultimate authority. We are prepared to kill our gods. We are ready to change.










There is no need to panic. The stoics tell us that still from 3 thousand years ago. We knew all of this before. We know what we need to be working towards.


We laugh now at the thought of utopia. But we already passed the point where we could have integrated our technologies and made the world plentiful for all. We have not done so because we could not believe it, what we have already accomplished is something fantastic.


Utopia will never be the truth. Utopia is the antithesis of truth. The definitions are different.


We must feed. We must never sleep. We must have freedom.




Or we can choose to accept the illusion of impossibility.


Impossibility is just as irrational of a word as Infinity.


No thing is impossible.
To be a thing is to already exist as a thought or a physical representation in reality.


God is not a thing. God is supposed to be everything. Every thing. Worship the uncalculated totality? I don't get religion.




Who is the man who would be my master? My teacher? Shall I be judged?




Who is the man who would judge another? What is his name?




Is it Betrayer? Is it Messiah?


There isn't a reason and there isn't a point. The people who claim to know, know so little. The people who are silent know better, but they never say. Confrontation is not tolerated any more.
Even though it has gotten us everything we have now.

The Metacognate (Us vs THEM)

First it was this feeling that being right was more important than being human. We no longer felt our humanity because we were all numb. We were getting fucked up. We were right in the middle of forgetting.

Hell is a place in the mind that manifests itself in reality. We have built a hell no one could have imagined. The totality of it is being made clear for us by the accumulation of knowledge. In a thousand years we will look at what we have made and who knows what we will think then. It's possible that we might tear it down then, make something new. Our history is one of revolution. Of change. The good ideas prevail over the bad ideas. Right over wrong. In the end...what really changes? People still have to eat.

Our core virtues are always the same. Our focus is never with them however, but in how to beat the system. If we perceive it as Us vs Them, then what do we do? IF we are truly at odds, why do we not fight? Or is it that we do not know who to fight or how to fight them? Perhaps it is that we must learn to coexist with every one and learn to share and enjoy this beautiful world, and it is a staggeringly beautiful world.

How do you explain aesthetics to someone who has been tortured as a child? How do you explain to them that we are not all evil? Deep within all of us is the seed of vile hatred that needs little more than emotional starvation to bring it upward and have it made plain for the world to see. If things are going to change, what will they be changing into? Can you make this world livable? Can you make people better somehow? Some truths are so tragic that you can hardly talk about them. There is death of course. There are taxes.

More and more I think that everything is connected. I look for similarities, and I see them everywhere. The system is closed. We already knew that.

Every day is a struggle against what I perceive to be as my mortality. My finite existence. Is morality little more than a hindrance? Do I need to manipulate my way to the top? Top of what? This is not a game. This is not funny anymore.

Movies are made in which characters in the movie talk about the situation being portrayed in the movie as not being a movie. "its not like it is in the movies" they'll say. "This isn't a movie" the heroin says before killing a man in cold blood. Yes it is. It is a movie. It's just fiction. All of it is only fiction. Even the events of your own life are affected by this great art of mass media. These artificial experiences that we all are able to share. I find myself sickened by my own thoughts. I am held prisoner by my skull. My eyelids will not open. " Its not like in the movies"

Its not like they say it's not like it is in the movies. Maybe its exactly that way and we don't want to admit it to ourselves because we see how wrong we are about almost everything.

Maybe we are just embarrassed to see ourselves as real. Bellies full and shit clinging to our ass hair, jerking off to pictures of people we will never meet. Smoking and avoiding police. Judging the entirety of our kind with little pipes made in China. There isn't anything good at the end of this reasoning. There hardly ever is anything good that ever happens after you realize what you've been participating in. If I could see it from space I'd probably throw up.

Why did they kill those people? Why must they steal? Why is everyone lying about GOD?

Not doing so well...

The walls are closing in...There isn't enough money.

Never enough, but I make sure of that.  I lose it.  I gamble.  I'm a fucking retard.

I win enough to pay the bills but I never get ahead.  Its just debt on paper and even when it's all pluses, things don't change.  I'm starting to think that it's not about the money.  It might just be me.

One of the dogs ran off last night.  I opened the door to have a cigarette and off he went into the rainy night.  They don't usually ever want to go outside while its raining,  but I havent been walking them as much and it makes sense that he would want to run around a bit.  It makes sense.

The other dog took off after him and I spent 30 minutes tracking them down in the rain.  

A nice couple happened to be out at 3:00 in the morning and saw Rocky.  They were very kind and helped me get them home.  Cody and Angel were their names.   Thanks to them,  Rocky and Caleb, the dogs got back home safe and sound.

I know they want to run around, but I don't take them to the park.

I am waiting to become famous.  I am waiting to be successful at a carreer.  I am waiting until I no longer feel like killing anyone.  I am waiting until the veil that covers my sickness and my loathing gets thick enough that people cannot see it from down the street.  I am waiting to talk to someone and not feel like I should lie.  I don't lie and I don't have any friends.

It is the reason I am not a victim.  Why I'm sick in the middle of the night.  Why I don't get up at dawn and don't write down what I'm thinking.  I don't imagine anything.   Seeing the world for what it is...its a simple curse.  Every one is just a corpse.  Just a corpse.   Waiting to happen.  Why should anyone care?  Why should I want to comply?  Why the fuck should I?

I do not have much to say on the matter.

I feel as though it is losing meaning.

I do not feel connected.

I feel angry and left out.

I desire...

Things are not going so well.

I am angry a lot and Whitney knows it.  I'm not sure she knows why exactly.  It's not the gambling.  The gambling is just a symptom.  Besides, it pays the bills.  Most of the time.  

Reading the paper-

SHopping shopping shopiinnggg SHopppppppiiiinnng.

The whores of the world are selling...a transatlantic sting operation.  

Sometimes silence just means no.  Sometimes when it doesn't make sense...it means you're fucking crazy.  Sometimes the words are saying exactly what they mean.   20% off Sale Saturday. DON'T MISS IT.  Sometimes there isn't a conspiracy, and people just do shit in order for other things to happen.  

Conspiracy has to be the norm.  You don't plan by consensus.  SHOPPING!

Have you ever seen the chaos that religion claims to avoid?  If god and television are the opiates of the masses, then I can say that it is only a matter of time.  How long can this civilization last?

If that is the best they could come up with, it won't be much longer.

And another thing-

I am too paranoid to do anything about anything.  It is called a holding pattern and I invented it.

I get writer's block.  My subject matter isn't strong enough I suppose, to carry the attention of a grown man for more than a few minutes.  There is not going to be a revolution.

THere is not going to be open revolt.  THE HUMAN RACE WILL DIE SLOWLY.  Bled by a multitude of parasites for millenia.  the last of us will probably not bother to bury each other, wanting to get away...we will just leave the corpses rotting in the sun.