Windows

The three of them sat in the study, surrounded by all the books and tomes of the past centuries of humanity, all the great works of science and philosophy and literature, and they all knew that within all of this collective knowledge was contained the truth to it all  like breadcrumbs throughout all their pages and words.

“…I mean IT ALL is just as it sounds.”

“So it’s nothing?”

“NO, its literally all the stuff and things.”

“But anything you say that refers to IT ALL as the subject is not saying anything.”

“Not at all, for example if I say Its ALL a mystery, that we can’t know for sure of anything, it means what it says.”

“Look I’m not getting into THIS debate again with you.”

“Okay, but we can both agree that there is a phenomena occurring in which we (at the very least) perceive our own existence.”

“Sure.”

“Well in this context, the only thing that matters is perception of things. Our perception of things creates meaning.”

“yeah.”

“But then we have to wonder, from where do we perceive things happening? We cannot stop thoughts that arise from within us, and we can’t control what goes on outside of us, so there must be this place from which we see both sides.”

“Momma Catz didn’t say weather the windows would be in your head or in the wall.”

“So are you gonna look out or within?”

“That’s the trouble with it. You cant ever stand still long enough to get a good look one way or another. It’s not that I think Momma Catz isn’t full of it, I just think you can’t make it happen unless the windows are clean, and both windows just pile up with mud from all kinds of places.”

“I hear ya.”

“I mean, I get out there with the cleaner and the paper towel, if you get what I mean, but it never seems like the rain stops long enough, or the cars don’t stop going by for long enough to do it. The maintenance of it is just too painful, too fruitless to try.”

“But I mean, you’ve got to.”

Then Leon spoke up. “Who is this Momma Catz anyway?”

“You’d know her if you saw her.”

“yeah, hard to miss, she was at Bobby’s wedding last tuesday.”

“Oh. I think I know who you mean…” He didn’t.

“Anyway, why do windows need to be the thing to worry about. If you’re looking out or in, you gotta be in a room to begin with. Why not just keep that space tidy enough, then what goes on outside won’t matter so much.”

“Idk, then I feel like I’m missing out on stuff. I get anxious if I never see what the world is doing.”

“Some people are like that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know who or what I am. I can’t find the words that make me feel comfortable with myself. Like I need a label, but they all don’t fit. If I just knew who I was supposed to be I’d get down to business and be who I was meant to be.”

Leon spoke up again. “But aren’t you already who you are?”

“No Leon, that’s not at all what I mean.”

“Yeah Leon, like are you looking out of the window or into the window, do you want a tidy room or a tidy yard, or are you just a mess all over?”

Leon had to think for a bit about that and ultimately would come to no conclusions. The other two continued their conversation.

“It really seems like Momma Catz knows it all though, like windows and maintenance and all that, where are we looking and who are we, these are the questions we need to always ask ourselves so that we can KNOW with all certainty what we should be doing with it all.”

“I mean you ask yourself who you are to spite those others who put you in a box.”

“I guess. You could do that.”

Then Leon spoke again. “I’m not really sure what game we are playing.”

“It’s the secret dude! It’s these questions of philosophy and science that will explain everything you need to know, to transcend what everyone else THINKS is important. You will become closer to a GOD if you know all this stuff.”

“Windows and Momma Catz and spite and where we are?” Said Leon.

“Exactly.”

“You just don’t get it Leon.”

“I guess not.”

Leon stood up and walked out of the room. He was not a god. He was not looking through any windows. He stepped out of the musty house and walked into the light rain that fell from the dark sky. He felt the cold, and it did not bother him, for cold and warm are only things that countless generations of humanity endured without perishing. In the water there were no words, and his mind was still for every cell and environment of his being wholly existed as Leon in the rain without needing to know any more than where he was and who he was. The great questions continuing in the room, the school and philosophy of whomever momma catz was continued spiraling into disillusion and malaize and ‘ennui.

The cold rain was conquered by Leon for the time-being and his clothes became wet, but they were only clothes. They would become dry and he had no important place to be.

In Leon’s mind there was only whether one would rather spend their life trying to grasp the ineffable, or feel the goodness of existing beyond petty discomfort.

One who never knew the sensation of giving in to the greater and being a part of it, would never know the truth of it all. It is a truth with many names and words and writings that span the centuries of human existence. But only those with the luxury to wonder will wonder and those who can be content with not knowing, or simply knowing enough, would come to find it.

Thoughts do not exist, only actions exist, only sensations exist, only reality exists, and it is as definable as the great being of things, of that which exists simply IS and what does not exist IS not.

Every gap is filled with a being, anything that can find a place will find it and go to it, for the great interlocking and meshing of cells and forms and plants and animals, can only work on what IS there. The chemicals and gasses and electrons of all matter contained form and build where it is possible. If it did not they would not be.

So Leon, not realizing this in so many words, simply didn’t worry about it, because he stood on solid ground, the ground under his feet. He felt the air contained within the world that he was made for. And he was glad that he could be happy just knowing what he knew without explaining it.

 

 

 

Between breaths.

Try to make a fucking nickel while they make you roll a dime, I’ve got ice and fire in my veins from fretting from when I might die and how high I can get, the dichotomy makes me ossified to the troubles of anyone I haven’t met, worried about who I am and what it’s all comming to makes me forget to buy a new pair of shoes or go to the swimming pool, locked in a prison of fear and doubt until I can’t get feeling of the elements or hear all the voices of friends who wanna hang out, just a hampster in a cage just a pidgin who never goes out till my life has passed by and wouldn’t that be a crime? When you try to make a nickel and you’ve always had the dime, but there’s nothing to spend it on now when your years are gone and you get annoyed by all the noise as you stare in the void and what’s the point of playing the game with all the fake people and the fronts they claim to make sense of the world that it’s all cool and fine and just forget I said anything cuz it’s all bullshit anyway, all the stuff going on in the world why should we think about it any more when there’s no barrier to the evil but holding me up is an optimism from another era that tells me it’s all gonna get better. So I’ll just sit here and feel like 15 cents. 

Breath.

I’m at work, two women of middle age in a yellow bug, the kind with the flower holder, came in and would not stop laughing. “Oh valet. So fancy!” Everything I said was funny and I began to feel happy and laughed along with them about everything as they bumble into the restaurant. Their car (despite being a convertable) reeked of weed. All things have an explanation.

FML

My life is like an insane carousel

and I don’t know how to stop it

If i can’t slow it down

I think I’m going to vomit

Everything around blurs

Round and around it goes

faces repeating in the haze

in my jolting highs and lows

as my body swings from here to there

I hang on with an iron grip

faster and faster the colors whirl

The moments cracking like a whip.

And I wonder how this can be real

how can it be reality?

when did I get on the ride?

and where will I be at the ride’s finality?

Who are the spectators whose eyes meet mine?

Who is the operator that spun me through time?

Through meetings and thoughts and all things gone wrong

they spin through my mind and yet still I did not fall.

 

 

[image by sewer-pancake]

Suit.

So for the past week and a half I’ve been hibernating within a large comforter and youtube. I did not see the light of the sun for easily four days and resolved that the world would carry on just fine without me and that the source of all my problems was just from getting too involved with the people of planet earth and thus resolved to ignore the world completely. I watched a lot of this rpg stream thing called Thrilling Intent and kind of let that influence the in-and-out-dream-states I periodically went through. I figure if people spend all day doing drugs and whatnot, what would be wrong with dissociating time and reality for a long time with just my brain mind’s stories to entertain me. At least before immediately having amnesia about whatever glorious adventures i was going on in my dream states.
I’d be brought back from dreams with this great feeling of happiness and fulfillment and a glimmer of maybe a memory, but like everything it fades before I can grasp what it was that gave me this good feeling. Then I would go back into remembering that I was ignoring everyone and the regrets of messed up social situations and ruined relationships start all over again with vivid detail and I go back to telling myself i just need to stop with people and ignore the world.
I had all this free time and I used the excuse that i was feeling sick to completely put off having to deal with any engagements of any kind. I haden’t seen the doctor in a while, the dentist keeps calling me, and I have to write a bunch of content, and it’s all hanging over me in a cloud of anxiety, but i just resolve to continue watching trailer park boys for another four hours as time goes on outside my little world.
By the fourth day my mind was consumed by the finite nature of life and death.
Anyway thank jebus I had to go to work at my minimum wage job eventually, or I’d still be there wasting away. The biggest thing that keeps me from going outside is that I wonder what I’m going to do out there in the world. I feel way better when I just pick something and do it.Today I decided to play dress up and I put on a shirt with a tie and wore my Grand Pa’s old trench coat just to go to the library to get work done (those four walls in my house are a place of insanity now), yet wearing the suit jacket also had another effect, I gained a +2 adult status and made appointments with my doctor and dentist after calling my boss about schedule stuff. My second advice would be dress like you’re the shit and you will feel like the shit and other people will be like “right this way sir” when you talk to them.
Anyway I put my adult clothes on and felt better, I even did a little song and dance with my grandpa’s jacket on about how much of an adult I am. It went something like this:

Look at me,
I’m An Adult,
Look at me,
I’m an Adult,
getting stuff done,
woohoo!

 

Childeren’s book idea.

Today is another day
By this guy

Hey, it’s okay, today is another day!

To live and learn and find a new way,

To do all those things you’re good at,

like walk and run and jump and play!

To see all the people that you know go about their day,

and say hi to them as they go on their way.

Odillaly! Callooh Calay!

Enjoy the time while they have it to stay,

performing life’s little goshdarned play

while the cold embrace of the universe surrounds you

and strips away your ego

turning your vibrant achievement’s to particulates of grey,

Swaddles you in the comfort of nothing

and upends your hopeful attempts to survey

 

Titanic gulfs of interest amid existential parlays

Trying to chase your “true” potential day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day:
until the sound of that word makes you sick to your stomach and you realize that it’s all just time happening, night day it has no real meaning than it’s direct effect on when we do stuff and it’s all slipping away into the vast cauldren of bubbling something while our microscopic world spins through space around a small blip of light which is fifty million times bigger than the bacteria that live in our stomachs to help us digest cuz we’re an entire ecosystem, yeah OUR BODIES ARE AN ECOSYSTEM for small organisms who meet the same requirements for life as us because we can’t rationally draw a line (I guess it’s somewhere around viruses but that’s beside the point because the fucking scope of small things to big things is so mind boggling that I’m jaded to everything else now and I don’t know what has value anymore so I latch onto set ideals of what should be values and smoke and drink to relax myself from that constant factor and don’t close parentheticals because barriers are an illusion….

um

….But hey, It’s okay, today is another day

To make the story change

to figure out a better way

to laugh and love and jump and play

Odillaly! Callooh Calay!

Today is another day.

“Hey what’s up?”

I’m so bad at people and making decisions….but don’t feel bad for me, I don’t think I deserve it …oh god now I’m saying too much and you’re all looking at me and now I don’t know what to say cuz it’s just gonna dig a deeper hole where it gets complicated and people will want more explanations or to comfort me or they just won’t care at all and I don’t know if I can bear it if I say all this stuff and put myself and my feelings out on the line and then getting nothing in return but blankness and whatever because I equate people liking me to my own self worth and I can’t help it and I end up ashamed of myself for even bothering because I’ll know people will be making opinions of me based on what I say like “looking for attention” or “wow that’s sad” or even “What’s wrong” which are stuff that I think about other people sometimes because I’m selfish and I constantly need validation, but don’t bother  to validate others all the time, but they might not even want my validation cuz why would they have the same issues as me? and I’m not asking for you to care or worry about me because those are all the sorts of things I don’t want because I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m okay, don’t worry about me or think about me but DON’T GO AWAY because I’m afraid of dying alone and being alone and dying in general, but I keep making mistakes and driving people  away and why cant everyone just get off of eachother’s case and maybe I’m just on my own case or everyone is a jury and they are constantly standing over me to the point where all of humanity is just this faceless black shadow shrouding out the sky beyond it’s horrid godlike eye that looks at me when I go to a bar or walk down the street or register to vote and it watches me telling me I’m not worth your time because I’ve fucked up so many times before and it’s going to happen again and I don’t know if the eye is right or if I make it right because I don’t want to fail and I want people to like me because I validate myself by people liking me and I can’t keep track of everyone or even want to keep tabs on people or be involved with people because of the jury shadow eye thing and the longer time I spend with people the easier it is for me to hurt them because I’m bad at people and making decisions…but don’t feel bad for me, i don’t think I deserve it…now I’ve said too much the hole is very deep now and I don’t know if I have some kind of problem but all the online tests I take say that I’m positively average and on the one hand that should be good but a uniqueness is necessary to stay sane and I wanna believe that I’m special like my momma would say but I’m not special and that’s okay I’m fine with that so I’m all myself and If I’m supposed to be average that might mean that most people have the same thoughts as me and that means that they can maybe relate to having thoughts like me and maybe that might mean that….something. So anyway…no I’m gud.

Good & Evil Rush tomorrow

So for a while I’ve been working on this comic, It involves two foxes who may or may not be representing Yin and Yang as they try to deal with themselves and the world around them in parallel adventures.

The vast majority is not online but I do have a website where I plan to rectify that: http://goodevilcomic.com/

Tomorrow from 4:00pm to some time later (eastern US time) I’m going to be uploading a new page every half hour. If you would like to see it from the beginning here’s the link: http://goodevilcomic.com/comic/good-evil-chapter-1-title/

If you enjoy my writing, this comic is little more than a visual story, and I mean that because you need to have an open mind when looking at my drawings 😛

If you like Consider Subtlety please also follow Good and Evil. You wont be disappointed.

SCAN0001

In a room Trying to quit smoking.

The therapist let Fred take any seat he wanted. Fred was afraid of being “The Guy”  seeing a therapist and laying on the cushioney couch like some kind of cleshe so he went to the chair by his desk.

“You can begin anytime” The therapist said.

Fred began to speak, but somehow, now the image of laying on the cushony couch seemed comfortable to him so he got up, still talking and laid down. Until that point he was only covering how he’d been and little facts about his life. But on the couch he felt snug and comfortable enough to really talk. Fred was a poet, and fancied that he would have been a good actor if he had applied himself to it. So naturally he had a flair for drama and big words. he spoke like this:

“I’m so plagued with desire.” he said “It’s a nagging; it’s an unstoppable torrent of Introspective meanderings, whimpering on gripping vices of whims. That-  that desire can be as indomitable as some monolithic Buddha with the grey stone power to crush me one moment, and then in the next moment just seem like wisps welling on the wind”

The therapist nodded knowingly as Fred thought for a moment.

“What could conjure such a comical horror as to supplant a mind to chase desires and thoughts from one extreme to the other in this….It can only be a comedy. Life is just a satire of itself, our fleeting emotions and problems, our tragedies and dilemmas, are just the dilemmas of ants.

Truly, I hope that while i’m trying to grasp my desires or hold back on their pull with the madness of some kinda lone waiter trying to serve the world, that something cosmic is laughing at me. Then at least I’d know i’m doing something good.”

Fred stared at the ceiling as he spoke.

“When in a lonely night, the rising thoughts, and the panic, and the naked truth of my being arises from the distractions of the world… and I shudder without anyplace to cower; when you compare that to a warm night with the closeness of another and my mind is propped up with a fools superiority, I hope that something somewhere enjoys the way I defeat myself.”

The therapist nodded knowingly. Fred had tears in his eyes and reached out his hand as if yearning for a gossamer ribbon.

“In a morning wilder, to bathe in satisfaction It is to live like the beasts inside and remain, lost from the world beyond our eyes, lost from the higher order that we ideally strive for. Letting go of it where the memory reminds us and persuades back to the coveted halls of loving self destruction.

It’s such tangled web of this and that.

And I cant tell you why I enjoy that. I get the web. I see how it all connects and how we pull on one string and it pulls another. But I cant explain it. And so we hide with vice and beer and acts and demeanor which proves only to the world. I need to prove things to myself.”

The therapist nodded knowingly before Fred lifted himself from the couch on his arm.

“It’s just that life IS so unfair. People had told me that all my life, i just never realized how unfair it was until now.” Fred was sweating. “Listen doc, I gotta be honest with you.”

“Hmm?” the Therapist said.

“I really want a smoke.”

The therapist nodded knowingly before leaning back in his swivel chair. It was the old metal kind with the cushon and it squeaked with an awful noise. “Well Fred, you admitted yourself into this program because you wanted results, and cold turkey is how you wanted to do it.”

Fred wiped his eyebrow. “I know that, but I…I changed my mind.”

The therapist nodded knowingly.

“Did you hear me doc, I CHANGED MY MIND!”

The Therapist leaned forward before saying “You’re not in control of your mind anymore.”

He pushed a button and two men came in and took Fred away as he kicked and screamed, back to his cell.

Evil

It’s all just one big misunderstanding.

Two men with PTSD trying to tell each other to get their lives together where theirs’ aren’t falling apart.

Two women talking about rape as though they mean the same thing.

A drunkard, a junkie, a smoker, and a leper talking about what a party is.

A miner and a hippie talking about work.

A dominatrix, a furry, a priest, and a textbook talking about sex.

Rich and poor talking about money.

Colors talking about race and rainbows.

The utter Fucking depravity of misunderstandings.