Registered: Aug 2000
Location: Cnafilornia
Posts: 405

Silence, words, and all the things in between.

Tired is a word that I can't even remember. I'm way past that. When you've been falling long enough, it ceases to even feel like falling anymore. The sensation of falling becomes your natural equilibrium.

I'm full of words. Endless seething oceans of meaningless fucking symbols that change nothing. Exasperation. Antichrist. I wave my hand and turn water into water; bread into bread (When I'm in a special mood, I have been know to turn lives into memories). I've been beating my head against an invisible wall of isolation for as long as I can remember, and I think that something is finally starting to give way.

The sun is ninety-three million miles away, and still we burn beneath the ferocity of it's heat. Can you fathom that? Separated by ninety-three million miles of nothing's most absolute statement, and still. You are right next to me and I can't breathe anymore. I am as distant as the farthest star. I can't even feel myself anymore. Blackness. Cold. Drifting into a place where up and down no longer hold a meaning. Sorrow and elation hold no sway here. I am silence. The silence holds no promise. It breaks no covenant. It is above nothing and without identity. Like me, it is less than zero.

I see you everywhere. Beautiful children, trapped inside prisons of withered flesh. We deny ourselves our own claims to divinity. We are our own gaolers. The prisons of the hopeless where the inmates hold the keys. What a profound punishment to witness this, your own self-emasculation. De-humanize yourselves and weep for the wanting of what you have sold. What difference should it make to me, except that I have born witness to it? Damn the eyes, and all that they convey. I can love you no longer. And still, I cannot reclaim myself from you.

You. I see the things within you. If I could look farther and, perhaps, emancipate myself from the guilt. Look deeper to the harmless parts. Beyond the little animate bits of muscle. Beyond the inanimate...hair, nails, teeth. Nothing. Smaller still until the cell swims in it's guiltless world of mindless toil. Molecular. Atomic. Sub atomic. I have swallowed the blood. I am the body. Twelve fermions and four vector bosons. Beyond the small of nothing, and God still refuses to make a cameo anywhere in the details of it. Chasing God, and you still can't accept the responsibility to acknowledge that you're anything more than hairless apes. You shame yourselves.

I smash my fucking heart to pieces everyday, and in the night, it manages to mend itself again. Tell me what you know of strength. Tell me your story. You, who cannot even muster the strength to lift your chin and swallow truth. Why ARE you? Fuck the modern Prometheus. The whole of my world would be soft, and red, and full of quiet thunder, were it not for the webwork of scars...

Please, heal me.

redguard@blackvault.com

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: your liver
Posts: 152

++++++

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: Essex, England
Posts: 4523

quote:

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Originally posted by Eliss:
++++++

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I think that says it all.



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Just because I'm paranoid it doesn't mean that they aren't watching me!

No sugar thanks, I'm sweet enough already!

Orange does not rhyme with door hinge!

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: Oregon. America.
Posts: 2076

Selfish-diagnostic.

A satellite consciousness is salvaged only in recognition of and in a utilization of its own selfish potential. All repairs are done internally, fueled by the inspirations abundant in our universe…

…And those expressed by one another’s minds.

Demonstration:

In retaliation to your verbal expose, I sling my expressive equivocate back in your direction, which is an action indirectly brought in to being by you. Without your original expression, I would have nothing to inspire this response; therefore, my expression is dependent upon your expression. And so on.

Etc.

But this is just boring stuff.

Verbal pontificate.

Barren semantic ingenuity…

And so on.

Etc.

A response.

“Beautiful children, trapped inside prisons of withered flesh. We deny ourselves our own claims to divinity.” – Redgaurd.

We deny our own claims to divinity in exchange for a conventional set of conditioned values provided and marketed to us by whichever culture raises us. We are born ourselves, but grow old and frail as billboards, advertising an absence we will likely never see nor feel nor understand nor change.

We are born blank and we will all die cannibals.

Or godheads.

Or bureaucrats.

Or etc.

And so on.

The system is unlikely to shift; therefore it is inane to worry vainly or to waste away from the paranoiac anxiety typical of fantastical or imagined fears. Rather, develop yourself.

The satellite.

You can relay whatever information you want about yourself back to the hive, but understand that anything that you transmit is absurd and idiotic personal expression; a foreign language subjectively specific to your machine…

Designed by you. Created by you. Changeable by you…

Etc.

And so on.

“Please, heal me.” – Regaurd.

Rather, “Please, hear me.”

And I do. However, I feel that without these prescribed psychological influences they all could hear you as well.

Be strong Mr. Redguard. Remember yourself.

Feral.

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: salmon city
Posts: 1407

just try not to fall down too much.

it makes my tiny nose hurt. oh, the pain.

my NOSE.

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come ride, my banana car.. la la la.
ALL HAIL FISHLEADER!
you may be british.

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Registered: Sep 2000
Location: Jinju
Posts: 2

Your mind is extraneous to your genetic survival.

Your hormonal system probably knows what to do.

Bow to it or embrace your antipathy and remove your pattern.

That's what I did.

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Registered: Aug 2000
Location: GA
Posts: 6953

i find when i think too much, i become depressed. sounds like your a thinker red. i hope you find what it is your looking for.

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: Erehwon
Posts: 7537

redguard look

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a /\/\ i n a l
This is not a Personal-Attack (tm)

"Say what you want and if people don't like it then too bad. Don't let it bug you." - DevilMoon

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location:
Posts: 7236

quote:

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Originally posted by aminal:
redguard look

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BED!!! NOW!!!! BED!!!

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Registered: Aug 2000
Location: Cnafilornia
Posts: 405

Thanks for your responses. Your words are a gift, Feral. Thank you for the beautiful read, as well, Aminal. I was hoping, however, that even one of you might find favor enough to grant me my wish.

I have posted in the past, and I have asked for things before. Small things (small from my own perspective perhaps), but they almost always go unanswered. In this instance, I have asked you to tell me your stories. What moves you. What makes you. Why you live, and what you live for. I should like it very much if you would tell me a little bit about who each of you are.

That would be a fine gift, should you consider me worthy.

Thank you again, and be well.
redguard@blackvault.com

redguard@blackvault.com

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location:
Posts: 4501

Redguard, to comply with your request...here is something I wrote in a darker moment than usual. Then again, to actually feel something must be positive, so I cannot deny this experience...read on past this depressing, trite bit of shit, and I'll explain what makes me tick, partially...
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It doesn’t matter that it’s inevitable, that he would have done it anyway; he is a man of 2 month’s fascination, and I am merely the fascination that may make him feel alive. I may end up in a story or a novel, and that is what I dread. I cannot trust him to respect my desire to be unknown in that sense, or any other sense, for that matter. I cannot trust his motives. And yet, as I watched the moon, the stars, and wished I had a constellation map, I knew that somehow, this man was a portion of my destiny. Perhaps he will be my ruin; perhaps my salvation. And I know this sounds trite, but I cannot worry about that right now. I must worry about staying alive. About not
drinking the entire bottle of sherry I have beside me, plus a bottle full of ibuprofen in the cabinet. I wish, sometimes, that I had that bottle of Theodore to finish my life off. To complete what was begun when I was 13. But who could I trust with my
stories? And I don’t mean the trite shit I try to pass off as writing; I refer to my memory. I have not made a positive enough impact on people. I am merely a sketchy, asinine, belligerant piece of shit to most: a trickster, a shyster, a trick you take into the bushes for a good time. I am nothing significant; I am a one hit wonder. I am something “interesting” to put into the context of a story, to quote someone I thought cared significantly. I have since learned that no one really cares for anyone, that we all are selfish pieces of shit who deserve little, much less the life we are given. And I wish I could be better, that I
could improve that for myself, at least, if not to make it somewhat better for others. I want to be drunk for at least 48 hours so that I can drown this away.
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The idea of making things better somehow, for other people, even if I only serve as a weigh station or a truck stop to most (and I am not talking about sex exclusively here) is what keeps me going. I feel that I have seen a lot, and that may be arrogant of me, especially in the face of those who have seen more. But I have seen, I have done, and I have taken these things into consideration. I have tried to make sense of them, what little sense is possible. And I try to offer that to others. Whether they choose to live the life I have (which takes a strong constitution and the ability to accept a great deal of failure) or to reject it is up to the individual.

This is only partially what keeps me going. I seek everything out, because I believe nothing happens to you without trying. I have stumbled, I have hit my head against everything imaginable, and will probably continue to do so all of my life. And that will keep me alone, I am certain. I don't see that as a negative; even with others, are we not alone? Do we not feel helpless and insignificant?

I sometimes think that life is spent proving that we are alive.

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: sydney
Posts: 2202

your body is made from ashes
your thoughts suffer from worms
cancer has attacked your guts
not your innards, only your innermost part

superficial beauty can be grinded to fine powder
blow it into the world
this toxic waste

we were born to wonder not to marvel

small rat of the air you are the sign of peace
full of parasites

keep them away
the people that love you

fear , paranoia
justifyed by your past

i am the recorder of your helplessness




[This message has been edited by iglo (edited 09-23-2000).]

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: Erehwon
Posts: 7537

quote:

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Originally posted by redguard:
I have asked you to tell me your stories. What moves you. What makes you. Why you live, and what you live for. I should like it very much if you would tell me a little bit about who each of you are.

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I was only born 20 years ago, but i got hooked on life ever since. I just can't give it up. Really i cannot answer your questions, i dont live for anything but life itself, what makes me is me, and i live just because often, its the easiest thing to do.

When i look out of my window and see the sun light up the tree opposite, and watch as the wind rustles the early autumn leaves on the tree, and realise that everything we are exists because of the sun, i can see why, when we were more privaliged primative we would worship the sun as a god.

to attempt to answer you, what makes me, is the past, i have been shaped and welded by my experiences ("Experience is not what happens to a man, it is what a man does with what happens to him" - Aldous Huxley) they have moulded me and i have learned upon my (many) mistakes. I flew through my schooling without a care, it was a piece of piss, i loved going to school, i had a 100% attendance record, and i got excellent grades, with little or no effort... at the risk of sounding arrogant, i am fucking smart.

When i left school i failed something for the first thing in my life, i failed at uni. This was because lived to much, i lived to much and rejected my work... but that was a means to an end. I happen to have learned from it and become a better person, i am still lazy - i still do the mininmum of effort, but i work hard to be lazy. I dont reject living, living has taught me more lessons and made me the person i am rather than someone who is not alive, not living in the real world, is surrounded by thier own little bubble of existance, sheltered from both the beauty, and the uglyness of Real-Life (tm). And i happen to like the person i am very much.

I said i live because its the easiest thing do do... which to an extent is true, but i live to learn. I love to learn a new thing, see something i've never seen, felt something i'd never imagined. Education, experience and enjoyment is why i live. I have a phobia of horses, because i was bitten as a child by one (dont ask ) and its one of my earliest childhood memorys, and i consider it a good experience. i've learnt from it, grown from it and although i'll never go near a horse, i think they are one of the most magnificent and beautiful creatures in the world.

I think the biggest experience is falling in love, i have fallen in love, and fallen in love with more than one person.and lost because of it, and thats one of the most painful things in the world, but you cope, you get by, not because you have to - just because nothing goes soo terribly wrong.

The most amazing moment of life is realising that the person you are with is the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. The realisation of love. I live for moments like that - its too ewasy to get bogged down in human nature, the dark side, the uglyness. But even that can have its appeal. Watch people, see how they behave. Every single smaller community emulates a larger one, its a microcosmic world, everything mirrors itself... watch and learn. Dont just rush ni and try and change things the way you want them, or blindly follow on what everyone else does. Dont be a conformist or a non-conformist... be an observer, because people are amazing.

I dont think there is any higher purpouse to me being here on this earth, one day i'll be gone and i hope that the echos that i make dont die out for a very long time... maybe i am right and you never die... time just slows at the point of death, and you're always alive, maybe your most alive, when your about to die.

Redguard, some of the things you open up this forum too, make them think, look at the real world, or even any world, in a different way, from your perspective. Whether it be tales of cancer-ridden children, to weeping girls, and stong friendships and of love and of darkness, you open our eyes, and anyone that can open someone elses eyes, even a little, and make them realise somethign they hadn't realised before, is a worthy person indeed.



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a /\/\ i n a l - DRUMMS!!

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: Oregon. America.
Posts: 2076

Perhaps my chatter was cryptic. Maybe my dialogue was an esoteric garble.

I can only assume that I was unclear. Let me try this again.

Void in all states.

I exist in two places. My life is divided into a dichotomy of self and society. I don’t divide out of fear or anxiety; rather, I am responsible and conscious of my shadow.

Society.

Tick…

Empty. I was born devoid of social opinion, political persuasion, epicurean taste, etc. I had no values and no judgments, but I was also too young and too cortically codependent to create myself. Instead of expressing my own position, I became a “second-hander” or social yes-man.

Tick…

Whatever worked for history would certainly work for me. No questions asked, no money down.

Tick…

Etc.

Tick…

And I maintained this system for years without any reason to question the absurdity and the fallacy of it…

Tick…

Until…

Boom.

Injustice. Cognitively dissonant irresponsibility’s plagued my associations.

At first I thought that it was my fault. People should be allowed to insult the “unfortunate.” People should be allowed to piss and to shit all over the social faculties of others. Nike, Adidas, MTV, House of Style, etc provided us with a justification for our derision. Corporate sponsorship. Anyone out of line was fair game for beatings, ridicule, social sterilization…

And so on.

We were the sneeches with the stars on our bellies, and anyone with a barren stomach was just too fucking uncool.

I couldn’t live like this. I couldn’t swallow the god-dick anymore, and I decided to salvage myself from my image and from my “look” and from my pretension by letting go of my desires and my wants.

Self.

Selfish. I cannibalize my surroundings, feasting on the nearly empty souls around me… Filling my mind with these poorly expressed inspirations and emotions in order to later regurgitate the essential pigment of Joe or Jane (typically the latter) Smiths soul into a presentable artistic piece.

For me. For you.

For any audience.

My present self is the shadow heir to every emotion, action, expression, thought, belief, and conviction that I have ever manifested. It is hungry, and searches the dumpsters and cathedrals for fresh minds to devour. It searches this forum. It inspects the trees and the rivers and the mountains and the hills and the streets and the facades of buildings and the delicate precision of insects…

To define itself.

The sum of itself.

But…

Something nags at my mind and I am made a mindless subject to the occasional social desire or want. It was conditioned into me and I have no idea how to renounce it…

Or I just don’t care anymore…

Whichever. It really doesn’t matter.

Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde…

Or something.

Both sides suck ass.

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: Erehwon
Posts: 7537

quote:

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Originally posted by redguard:
[BThe sun is ninety-three million miles away, and still we burn beneath the ferocity of it's heat. Can you fathom that?[/B]

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