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hail the hesperian sunfucker
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hi
here are things i have been doing:
-not writing, so shut up. i should get back to that, it's sort of a good and productive way to use up a certain kind of energy, but i haven't moved my copmputer to my new place yet.
-working, full time again. making so very little. not that i need the money, and i understand the financial concerns of a small kitchen, but i make less than less-useful people. which i'm fine with in most ways, but the reasons to not stay at that job are clear since i have started doing renovations and such with a guy in my non-restaurant time. it pays well, and i got to use a JACKHAMMER. so much fun. however, working both jobs for a week almost killed me. well, working two weeks straight, drinking heavily a few times, and preparing/playing a show.
-music is going well. new organization of fellows, very enthusiastic and fun, and have got a great reaction so far. everybody can play any instrument we need, it seems. we had a short set so we wrote one long song. i got to play the keyboard, trumpet, and sing the main vocal part. i like singing a lot, and also writing lyrics when it works out.
-drinking. decided to not get drunk any more (due to various rather ridiculous events), and stick with simple social drinking. already failed once post-resolution, due to our staff party being open bar, at the bar, but i'm not too disheartened.
-don't really have an internet connection at my house that i can use, so i am unable to commit enough time to give a shit about electronic communications for the most part. i find forums and the like require constant attention, like the sopranos and such, to be interesting.
okay i have nothing else to say.
love
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i didn't write this. it is a song that might be called "arise, arise" by mount eerie, which is phil elvrum.
some people say arise arise arise, live friend live
i say die
i say shade yourself
i say shine what precious light you have into caves
and when it dies out stay in there
i say find life where you foolishly saw graves
some people say to try and try and try to fight and save yourself
i say give
i say send them off
i say shed whatever husk if you are ripe
and if you're not be fragrant then
i say give, no matter how it hurts, give in
some people say the sky the sky the sky, have you noticed it
i close my eyes
i say nothing now
there's a ringing in my ears that's deep and wide
and when i listen close to it
it says
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it's a cool night and clear and i've been so hard on everybody lately. i forgot so many things that were really just one thing, i forgot that we are innocent, for one. i had determined against evidence that we should know better, forgetting that we only knew what we could know, for two.
my entire life i've been unable to tell if i was "smart" or if i was "lucky", if i was born the way i am or if i was built. it is a fact that through one or the other i have been made fortunate, that i can see how things work and so i can make things work. it always seemed unfair, because i haven't earned it, because i only know what i have been shown, like everyone, because i was birthed then built by the world. we are all being built even now by a million things that exist in our heads, heads that were built by a million real things from the same things rocks are made of, we are all being built even now and it always seemed unfair that some people couldn't watch it happen.
there is something that separates me and people like me from the other people, and i forgot that that thing changes nothing. i lost the absurd, and so became more absurd. there is a system we create that creates us, there are systems within this system, and it's all around the single unmoving point. i made one more, smaller, thinking it was as close to the centre as it could be, but there is no close there is simply the single unmoving point and there are no systems and everybody will improve or not in time which doesn't matter and we are all the same thing, we are all innocent, we are all small, we are all rocks and water, we are all right forever.
and i forgot. how simple a thing, to forget, and blameless.
(love
bp)
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after a recent and rather spectacular breakdown, i found myself at my parents' house moving dirt from the back of my dad's 54 ford pickup. i would move it from the truck bed to a wheelbarrow to the garden in the back yard. it was a beautiful day, which means it was cloudy and windy and sunny and warm all at the same time. later it would rain, but i was done by then.
so shirtless and with no real hurry i moved dirt, and as i moved dirt i thought about how landscaping didn't really solve any problems, and i thought about how my hands which have been so symbolic might be roughened. they have been called "perfect", absurdly, and soft as a woman's, which is probably true. i've done some labour, but it doesn't show on my hands because it is rare and i only work half-there. i'm at "home" again, which is really the belly of the beast but it's sort of ridiculous to claim i wasn't swallowed.
it's just that people care about the weirdest things. card games and a nice dessert and the length of their lawns. i have failed, this is true, but in doing so i haven't really revealed a greater need than that of the everyday workpeople, their needs are external and fluid but no less imposing, no less actively sought, no less reliant on others that i became. through all this, despite it all, i haven't doubted my sanity, even when i was marooned on a street-corner unable to understand moving. why move, where would i go, where are these people going, why, etc. why move dirt? i am moving dirt because somebody wants a garden.
the idea of psychological needs has fucked up the whole thing, because once we allow our minds to create need there is nothing that is not necessary. an evening's entertainment. sun for your flowers. the occasional easement of burden borne. etc. i can't really bear those looks that ask things from you, so i avoid eye contact sometimes.
i think i'm okay now, but it's hard to say. if okayness is a measure of function within society, i'm probably not and things probably won't get much easier. because there are rules there are criminals. this is not semantic. if there was no rule, there would be no criminal; if there was no concept of proper action, one could not act improperly. it is all the way things are.
it didn't take long. my time is without value, as is my life, as is action and as is dirt. it is neither plus nor minus.
if i have to do any more digging i think i might go live in the park.
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so i'm sitting here with a skull made out of masking tape on my head, trying to think up a way to start a revolution. i need a staple-gun, first of all. i'm not entirely sure revolution is possible at the moment, the establishment and grand culture has convinced us that it's absurd and a refuge for losers and sociopaths by giving us everything we supposedly need, and then looking down on those that need to be given anything. it seems like a majority of people think that our system doesn't quite work right, but the only way to make changes is to overhaul it and they think that's too extreme. i'm not saying i'm really in favour of revolution, since i don't have a political agenda, i just find it odd that we've been raised to think that our society and culture is the only way to go. everything has been enveloped by popular culture, or will as soon as "the masses" get a hold of it, like hipsterism or goths or ghetto fabulousness, and by being absorbed into the main body of culture it is no longer counterculture, it's subculture. just another way to be in our grand societal machine, with its own stereotype and its own pigeonholed motivation. art isn't taken seriously and can't change anything because it's full of "artists" and everybody knows about artists, protest is the same, nobody will approach ideas without preconcieved notions of its validity as judged by the medium or the messenger. don't trust anyone over 30, and people who are left- or right-wing especially, they've got eveything wrong, kids are young and naive and have everything wrong, old people are out of touch and senile so they have everything wrong, etc, etc.
i think the connection there is: people refuse to accept each other as valid variations on the theme of man. we're all just babies trying to make sense of the blurry insanity that passes us, but for some reason people can't accept that. why is uncertainty so bad? i've heard so many people use it as an argument for god: if not god, then what? if not heaven, then where? i can safely say that whether the premises they are based on are right or wrong, those are fucking ridiculous questions.
is this coming out cohesively at all? i don't know.
what i am trying to say is, nobody is entirely wrong, or at least you can't possibly tell that they are until you've heard everything they have to say. i can't see one good reason to dismiss what someone says before you've considered it honestly. ease is not a good reason. neither is comfort, or fear, or ego.
so i was thinking about that a bit today, and i went to get a slurpee also. it's about 10 blocks or so to the 7-11, and i walked because i wanted to plus i can't drive and don't like the bus. the streets in my neighbourhood are nice, mostly, and i choose my route block by block based on which direction is nicest. this means i never go in a straight line. such is life. another reason to stick to the nice streets is that the nicest ones have less cars, and nobody walks anymore, so there are less people to watch for over the book i am reading. i'm not reading the entire time because there are all kinds of things to look at and think about, but it's easier nonetheless. now that the cherry blossoms are gone, i am reminded that spring around here is fucking awesome. i noticed this on the bus home from chilliwack yesterday, as i was talking to this blonde girl from kamloops, down for the weekend. she was a math major, waitressing and waiting for acceptance to a teaching program. she was dumbish and cute, long straight hair, pretty figure and face, amazing eyes. i didn't say anything to her until she started it but i sensed that she was a talker, i caught her sighing once and occasionally as i looked out the opposite window and so over her seat i saw that she misread that as possible continuance of head-movement to eye contact position. but no. i get a fair bit of amusement out of those kinds of games, because i get a fair bit of amusement out of most everything but especially people being people.
a girl got off at a stop that was not one of leisure, and was left behind. that's what inspired blonde girl to venture a conversation. once it started i felt obliged to continue. she was dumb, as i said, but not unintelligent. more unused to real effort, like she played dumb for so long that she was now, or didn't know how not to be. she was reading something by toni morrison, but she suspected that she was missing all kinds of symbolism and subtext. i said that i didn't think that was important, which is true. i'm always smirking and laughing when i'm talking to girls like that, though i haven't met any for years due to social circles being as they are. all the dumb girls i meet are bitchy, because they're "arty" and they've learned that you can fake your way through if you don't let your guard down. they're right, of course.
when we got up to disembark i saw that she was probably 5'10" in her flip-flops. if i wasn't broke i would have asked her out, and it might have been fun. i used to love that sort of girl. now i know it's probably unhealthy to be attracted to people that you are always sort of patronizing, but i've got so many glaring flaws that it's not as bad as it sounds. hardly love, though.
ha.
this is how my days go by.
haha.
love,
bp
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i didn't write this, william saroyan did. i'm going to bold a part, though.
__________________________________________________
In the time of your life, live—so that in that good time there shall be no ugliness or death for yourself or for any life your life touches. Seek goodness everywhere, and when it is found, bring it out of its hiding place and let it be free and unashamed.
Place in matter and in flesh the least of the values, for these are the things that hold death and must pass away. Discover in all things that which shines and is beyond corruption. Encourage virtue in whatever heart it may have been driven into secrecy and sorrow by the shame and terror of the world. Ignore the obvious, for it is unworthy of the clear eye and the kindly heart.
Be the inferior of no man, or of any men be superior. Remember that every man is a variation of yourself. No man's guilt is not yours, nor is any man's innocence a thing apart. Despise evil and ungodliness, but not men of ungodliness or evil. These, understand. Have no shame in being kindly and gentle but if the time comes in the time of your life to kill, kill and have no regret.
In the time of your life, live—so that in that wondrous time you shall not add to the misery and sorrow of the world, but shall smile to the infinite delight and mystery of it.
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hello. i'm tired and i'm going to type without much attention.
it's been another day, and i walked to main street to eat malaysian food with what is almost the last of my money, and i took back streets because seeing people driving around and such has thrown me off. i walked down 18th until i got to main.
i thought about how i am alone, and how everybody is alone, and how i have always been alone. it's not sad, of course, it's how things are. i thought about how when i was a kid i would spend a lot of time by myself, and how i wouldn't sleep that much. i spent a lot of time with myself. and i was thinking about how it seems to be important for me to meet someone someday who i don't have to explain myself to, that might know what i'm doing. i've never known anybody who could tell what i was thinking or what i would say. i thought about how it was extremely unlikely that anybody knew anybody in that way, and how i am extremely self-involved. other people are "in love", which means either they are understood or they don't care to be. i doubt they are understood, so i figured they either mistakenly think they are (which is common) or that some people are not very complicated.
i don't want to think that.
i've been coming to terms with the idea that i am atypical, and i don't like that either. it's a fact, though.
i suppose i've been fooled by romance into thinking love was that sort of connection. i've always always been a brain in a jar, so clearly to be with someone they must be in there with me. otherwise they're just one more person i watch through the glass.
and a while ago i was thinking this but i wasn't depressed about it. in fact i was on drugs that made me less so. not medication, illicit chemicals. here: "it's a curse to know that anybody with anything to say is unable to say it, that to succinctly collect anything in the giant elaborate world into words is to give up, and indicates that what was important is the saying and not what is said. and really, what is worth saying? what isn't simply implied by the existence of everything else? my life is a search for something worth saying, and will end fruitlessly with my death leaving millions of words behind."
when i thought it originally i was kind of lamenting the fact that i had nothing to say, no message, then i realized that i ended up thinking i had one. there has to be something driving a person to create. i'm either holding back or holding on, but i know i am struggling with something. i'm around people, i like people, but society has no place for me. i mean, there are all these structures, sub-cultures, and i can't buy into them. i'm becoming obsessed with sub-cultures. it seems to be universally human to find a group of people that have similar interests, usually an interest in having similar interests and an idea of which are the best interests to have. which say you are the best, the smartest, the brightest. every group thinks theirs is the best way to be. every group thinks that shared interests makes them the same. i can't think i am the same, i can't think anybody is the same because the details are always different. there's too much information, it's getting to me.
i shouldn't be typing this here, but sabine said she wanted me to, sort of. she didn't know what she was asking. i shouldn't even really be continuing this line of thought, such as it is i will swear it's linear, but i suppose it is inevitable.
in other news, i should sleep. in the morning things should make sense again. i think that people are beautiful but it's tragic that they don't see it, and i know that life is easy but it's tragic that we complicate it, and i don't believe in tragedy.
thanks for making blogs as i break down, assholes.
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hiyo
so in the face of recent events i have been made to think of the same things i always think about. i've had a pretty busy year, full of starving and sleeping and horrible horrible sin. right now (as in, recently) i've been playing music with some people, though i am not quick to call it a band because it is entirely structureless i think and i'm not sure everybody understands what's going on. however, being introduced as a "musician" (which i am not really) adds more weight to my position as unemployed increasingly unstable freehaircut ambiguous imaginary sex machine. dinner parties are minefields.
i was just at one, see, is why i was thinking about it. it was a "bandmate" and all her friends seemed to be engineers or graduate students that grew up wealthy, but jeff and i were "musicians" (he is probably for real) so we got off easy. my general bullshit knowledge allowed me to function, and i figure i could probably work some future making out with some attendants. i ain't never made out with no rich girl before. dinner was vegetarian, soup bread and salad, but soup bread and salad are usually just the first courses so i didn't think we were done when we were. i didn't mention it. that would have been mortifying.
mostly i've been thinking about myself. i've not been well, i think. i've been thinking about how it seems like there's something people are trying to say that can't be said, but really i think everybody wants someone to understand them. this is obviously a bit more self-referential than i would like.
i mean -reverential.
usually, lacking thoughts, i would write about events. i don't think i can do much of that at the moment. whenever i write anything like this down anywhere i have an urge to point out that "this isn't what the book is like", but i bet it is, against my wishes. also i think about how i don't use the internet properly. aren't we supposed to be talking to people? i doubt i have talked to more than ten people online in what i would think was any real depth.
hmm. ha. unable to construct any sort of worthwhile processes, mentally. welcome to my blog, another, about probably less than nothing really. we'll see.
xoxo
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