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Youth goes by so quickly. Old age creeps up on you with omipotent force. After death there is absolutely nothing. Your body and your mind hate the soothing escape of drugs, and let you know it. They love food that tastes awful, and painful exercise. Any discipline you pursue presents you with murderous competition, no matter how good you are.
Despite all this, is it even preferable that this miraculous, sadistic undercurrent to life be anything other than what it is? There was an infinitesmally small chance that you would even be born, yet somehow you beat those overwhelming odds. There is sublimity deep within the insanity and misery, making it all well worth it.
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We go deeper than plunderers. Plunderers, yes, to be on top of the food chain, but all that concentrated energy-power can also be used as a means to enriching our mental picture of the universe. We are creators, and the subject of our creation is our lives. Our lives are the stories of our fantasies. The greatest human stories are explorations, not wars. That which is discovered doesn't empower; it provides self-knowledge- the fish jumps out of the water and sees the air, and realizes that it is a "fish"
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It's not absolutely imperative that we produce a generation of stressed out power hungry lunatics to lead an even more wasteful lifestyle and an even longer trail of destruction in the wake of their lives, or that our generation suck every last drop of fresh water and clean air from the face of the earth.
Those are the corporate Gods speaking in your ear, sucking the life out of you; the very concept of the preciousness of your life.
I believe in progress, but of the qualitative kind. What we have now is a progression of superflous bodies, not intellect.
Hordes upon hordes of bodies, each new crop more narcissistic and destructive than the last; a rising tsunami wave of human destruction...
Was this supposed to be fun?
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Freelance investors who work for themselves are professionals who deserve respect. Some people think it undignified because they instinctively apply to it the morals they've been conditioned with- ones that generally aren't followed by the esoteric international elite who preach them.
The energy input of the planet can be financially quantified because it is processed and used at a relatively constant rate. This is finite power that comes from outside any one man- from the sun- far away from humanity. Who deserves to have this power, and how much? Who gets to decide this? There are no global universal laws that everyone can agree on, so on this level moral and ethical considerations become irrelevant. Does this mean it's nihilistic? Not necessarily, since it is firmly tied to the premise that the world's energy is both sacred and finite. Similar to farmers living off their own food, an anarchist shouldn't feel immoral for tapping the well of the global military-industrial complex. We are modern, transnational farmers.
Less constrained by national and economic boundaries, anarcho-capitalism and libertarianism are much more egalitarian, assuming there's enough people who want equality and freedom, who are willing to fight for it without resorting to any narrowminded group or organization. It aspires to the belief that one should be free to determine himself what he does with his time, who he works for or with, and the nature of the state under which he lives.
That said, am I an immoral man? Yes, but not because I'm a Libertarian.
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<i>As a result of the acidosis, the person will begin to hyperventilate in an attempt to inspire more oxygen. The baroreceptors in the arteries detect the resulting hypotension, and cause the release of adrenaline and noradrenaline. These cause widespread vasoconstriction resulting in an increase in not only blood pressure but heart rate. Also, these hormones cause the vasoconstriction of the kidneys, gastrointestinal tract, and other organs to divert blood to the heart, lungs and brain.</i>
Her entire body had begun to quiver uncontrollably. Whether it was extreme shyness or fear I didn't know or care, since my drunken mind was hellbent on pushing the fantastic awkwardness over the cliff into deep unexplored realms of reality.
I unleashed my member and thrust it into the core of the negroe flesh. This provoked the first in a series of excruciating shrieks which would only grow louder and more invigorating. Before long they had penetrated my soul, igniting a jolt of passion deep in my bones that burst into a fountain of ecstacy, flooding my veins and muscle fibres until I had become the monster I had longed to be.
<i>you'll learn to beg better than that, bitch! You will beg for your life from your new master. You will beg me for each second of life!</i>
I soaked in the chaos of this dark journey while my stallion gently retreated from the hellish plain, its head bowed down in deep reflection of the unique experience, and the corpse slumped onto the bathroom floor.
I
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I strive after beauty
my love of beauty makes truth
and that is the only truth-
the story of my struggle
a dream about the search for a dream-
that I or others
can even reckon
there is nothing else
but the dream
that is my dream
The Dream
I sailed across a crystal blue lake,
still and pristine on a moonlit night
one with the water and the sky.
Then, when land was no longer in sight
encountered another dreaming sailor
He, lost for words
and surprised to find me in his dream
just drifted by
The Jungle
The neverending shrubbery
in the midst of the
fiery darkness
then
yet more darkness
and
shrubbery.
Driving drunk at 2 am
"What is truth?" said jesting Pilate
but just as he couldn't wait for an answer
I cannot wait to ponder
as I carry my car over a field
Indio, Calif.
Lying on scorched desert sand
I see an angel fly down from the sadistic sun
her hair burns crimson fire
and her eyes sparkle like lightning
my skin melts into hers
like a river flowing into the sea
She extinguishes my last burning cinders
with her saliva
Happiness
Drugs are the new religion
the greener grass
that is never found
They dim the inner light;
the adventure
that life itself
was meant to be
The industrial machine stopped
stood up
and ordered all the humans to carry it
from now on
on its journey to nowhere
The
sun rises
like a tree
It gives power
to all things
And it shines
as it rises
like
a tree
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Been looking forward to it, just as I was the first time I went there, even though then I was much poorer then and had no clear plan whatsoever. I don't mind the gays, and even the crack dealers in SF have their own brand of class. My first encounter with them was outside the main park downtown-I was wandering along with my giant backpack and about 4 of them swarmed around me and put a huge 8-ball right in my hand. They were talking so fast it was hard for me to explain that I didn't want it, but when I finally got the point across, they were like "What? Really?" and then commended me for not being a crackhead. Oh, and boy can those SF niggers rant- but it is a good thing for any democratic citizenry to be idling about on the streets talking politics or philosophy. It would be nice to finally be going back to this other home after all these years, and no doubt the niggers will be wondering what took me so long, and why I had to leave in the first place.
The thing that took me so long was really a twofold process: it was realizing that the oppressive plutocratic system had to first be beaten before I could be free from the slavery of work. So I won't be working for other people anymore; I won't be helping to build the dreams and houses of other people. I will never again submit myself to the degradation and humiliation of wage-based slavery-and in my opinion about 99% of the working population of the world today are in fact slaves; sure, some of them are rich, but they're all slaves nonetheless.
My mother's biggest mistake in raising me was attaching religious/ethical values to one's material wealth. When I was an adolescent, too young and dumb to see what her error was, I couldn't understand the source of her tyrannical attitude, and so my only refuge was by making myself the anti- of all that she was. But now I see that the root of her ignorance was nothing more than a shallow Money God.
I appreciate planet Earth for the entirety of its non-humanity. Everything that is untainted by human perception, words, or actions is beautiful. Everything else is mediocre.
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The geographical frontier has always had a special place in my heart, since it seems to be that region-psychological and spiritual as well as physical- where the most admirable qualities are brought out in people. In those rare moments in human experience when we set forth into the Great Darkness it is almost never because we have to, even though it may improve our chances for long-term survival. We do so in defiance of our little pre-planned destinies; we aren't satisfying hunger, quenching thirst, providing for our families, or building our houses. Rather, we are transcending all the basic necessities of our existence. The universe becomes the setting for a fascinating new story with us as the heroes, instead of a harsh landscape to be endured.
Of course, to be a hero who has the inner strength to explore and enjoy doing so- to be someone who is more than just a survivor- an ample amount of that trait known as manliness is required. I know no other word for it. The historical figures I idolize most were those who distinguished themselves by actually contributing something positive; not those who, though they were just as daring, carried their crew through rough seas or succeeded in fending off monsters. I have more respect for Wernher Von Braun, for example, who, although his early work was for political ends, well knew the scientific and technological implications of his rockets, than for Robert Oppenheimer, even though the latter's contributions to science were more profound at the time. Sadly, the prevailing ideology of today seems to be almost exclusively devoted to keeping our boat afloat: repairing the leaks and bailing out the water, and, far from looking into the distance with wonder and excitement as to what journeys tomorrow may bring, praying there isn't a storm on the horizon.
The worldly frontier is long gone, and all countries now contain only varying degrees of the global monoculture. Once they taste it, they can't ever turn back- at least not unpretentiously. The next frontier is stuck at the edge of a vast sea-interstellar space- and it won't be expanded again for a long time. I would go to Zambia or Borneo or the deep Uruguayan jungle in the spirit of Hemingway or Kipling or Joseph Conrad, but since I live in an age where every metre of land has been meticulously mapped by satellite, I would constantly know where I am in varying degrees and this would defeat the purpose of exploring. How silly would it feel to go trekking along some African plain with a camel by one's side, enduring extreme hunger, thirst, and dangerous animals, only to face the jeers from a passing tour bus full of fat tourists, snapping away with their digital cameras. Were Hemingway alive today, he might well be apprehended by armed bandits, stripped of everything he owned and sold on the streets to the highest bidder. Great explorers of past centuries, intrepid though they were, stole so much of the glory from future generations. They had more diseases, strife, violence and hardships, yet, paradoxically, they seem to have lived fuller; what they lacked in medicine and good government they made up for with adventure and good ol' fun.
It is the four or five generations in between the planetary and interplanetary (or interstellar) frontiers that must suffer the scourges of that limbo: an excess of complexity, mediocrity, circumspection and yes-peace. Particularly before the 20th century, war served the important function of cleansing societies of excessive, oppressive, and ultimately trivial social and psychological idiosyncracies. The soils of morality, convention, and tradition need to be shaken up every now and then. Otherwise, they begin to choke the younger generations with their outdated rules, draining their exuberance and creative energy. Without some balance to unchecked feminine utopian utilitarian ideology, the very foundation on which such an edifice rests, colossal though it may be, will crumble.
In this age of arrogance and cynicism people like me are looked upon as being somewhat naive and juvenile. But isn't unhesitating conformity to a mentality that is mostly unproductive and negative more juvenile and naive? When we stop believing in things beyond building our own little nests-common dreams- haven't we lost something that justifies being here in the first place?
Whether or not I will ever contribute anything to the building of an interstellar spacecraft, at least I have learned that I aspire to be one of those people who are very serious about what they do with their time, who work diligently at new, revolutionary technologies that offer new hopes and possibilities for humankind, and who believe in things far greater than building a house and raising a family, even during those times when it seems no one else shares their optimism.
The man I want to be may not be any smarter than the man I am, but he does use is brain a lot more. He drinks less, and smokes less weed. He has a clear plan of action that he follows each day, to a tee, and he works much harder towards his goals than I am currently. The man I want to be is far from the man I am, but I am becoming more like him with each passing day. This gives me a good feeling.
Imagine how exhilirating it would be to go on a murdering rampage with a big noisy chainsaw, in some Chinatown shopping mall, chasing hordes of terrified Asians, trapping and cornering them inside the little stores, the chainsaw echoing throughout the entire building. You wouldn't be a demented killer; on the contrary, you would be, quite simply, a cleaner, cleansing the world of their pathetic lives, shattering their pathetic little fantasies...
What would go through your mind if you were standing by the side of a road in 13th century England, and a knight on horseback came galloping by, slicing off the head of some unfortunate peasant (something not all that uncommon in those days)? Would you gasp in horror, or would you shrug it off and just accept that such things happen in life; some win, some lose, not unlike...the whole natural world?
No, life has no real value at all, not in any objective sense, and subjectively "value" is nothing more than an idea; a word. The palace you take such pains to build is, in the end, just a coffin. The universe does not "dance" for us, the stars don't really "shine"; that's all just a movie that's easy for us to see and live in. The entirety of our knowledge is just a long, tedious story that never actually happened.
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