Tuesday, March 22, 2011

lights on shades drawn sunlight peeking through

My life is not my own and so I agonize. The sun burns my retina in another junk sick afternoon in a dingy version of American paradise. Who would choose this shit? This pisspoor offering of bloodmoney and bad taste. If only I could really turn to drugs, to booze, to artificial means.
"Death is light as a feather."
1. It all relates. Everything has equal meaning; is equally meaningless. A chocolate stain, an ass itch, a cotton swab, a glass of cheap wine, being bored while reading, then inspired.
2. There is no ethics. There is only the moment and the memory; regret, impulse, and the grumblings of the mobs.

We call up our darkness and our pain because it is what we use to relate to society (the source of our pain and darkness; the shame we feel under the gaze, the averted eyes in the originary face2face, the beginning of our denial of ethics, an unchanged and unchanging avowal to remember to remember to forget).
"This tastes significantly better than sardines."
We look at life, at our lives, at the wreckage of history, of all that has gone before and crumbled into the sand and concrete from which we build anew. We look out first through one lens, then another, another. We look out looking in never seeing, never seen (always watching: a society of voyeurs never exhibiting, fear, shame, denial, anger, resentment, depression, the acceptance of inevitable failure)

3. I am better as myself, than myself, it is better to be me.
4. Sustained contradiction is the basis of thought, happiness, humanity.
“… to be a rock and not to roll…”

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