Where?

21 07 2008
Right here.

Needs to stop thinking about juggling these incandescent thoughts.

Courage doesn’t become some people (and probably never will).

Postmodernism? Not exactly.

Use that grey matter your Heavenly Father blessed you with.

Push them away.

“Burn it down and walk away.”

Not much use in forcing it.

Repent of your bitter cynicism, it’s driving you into the ground.

Who is being addressed?

Keep being vague, nothing gets solved that way.

“Give us more desperation / isolation, because it works for me.”

Basket case.

Once a basket case, always a basket case?

It doesn’t make sense in the given context.

Walk in the room.

Turn on the charm.

Bask in the warm glow of adulation as the masses shift their attention in zero seconds flat.

Seeing oneself as a martyr can easily become the height of arrogance.

Just do as you feel led.

Dr. Weyandt’s words still haunt me.

Where is this all going?

Utter destruction?

Complete and total bliss?

A possible lifetime of isolation traded for what?

To conform and lose one’s heart / soul / spirit / passion, or forge a new path and be fed to the wolves?

Have you washed yourself in the rain? I ask as I wallow in my cesspool of filth.

We’re all hypocrites.

Do we really want what we say we desire?

Which one of you holds the ultimate truth?

Certainly it can’t be all of you.

I refuse to praise Him for saving *me* anymore.

It’s not about me.

If anyone is unworthy, it’s not the atheist, it’s not the Muslim, it’s not the Hindu, it’s not the Christian Scientist, it’s not the Satanist.

It’s me. (Is this the height of arrogance or humility?)

The hypocritical “Christian” who refused to see the good in other people.

I don’t care who you are.

You’re on this journey with me.

It’s not me against the world.

It’s not you against the world.

It’s not *us* against the world.

Stop pushing. Stop fighting it. Stop being desperate.

Stop seeing others as hopeless. Only then can we learn to love them.

Satan, the Devil, our “free will”, “The prince of the power of the air”, our sinful natures, our refusal to listen, our outright denial, our hatred, our self-righteousness, our condemning natures, our sickening pleasure at the retribution of the wicked, our failure to “repeat this prayer after me,” even our outright refusal of His forgiveness.

Which of these will stop the unlimited, unconditional, unfailing love of God?

The initial cynical rant has turned into praise to God. How did that happen?

God works in mysterious ways, friend :).

Lord, I praise and thank You for saving *us*.

(originally written 5/4/08 )
Advertisements




What?

21 07 2008
Indie music is for popular people.

Join the revolution! Be a part of the mass uprising! Be different like the rest of us! Forsake your identity!

Smile.

Ibidibideebopbopbow. Woo! Yeah.

You know what I’m talking about, spoonfed children.

The charity case slowly runs out of reasons to care.

Does it read angry? It’s not meant to. Go back into your holes.

Forsake the longing for oneness with the world.

Get by as best you can.

Crawl out of the corner and take your place in line.

“men are wondering to get by,
floor, stairwell
should i try?”

Try to find meaning, I dare you.

Jack has gone free, you’ll find him someday.

It’s raining. The sand is getting soaked. This isn’t so fun anymore.

Climb out of the muck and wash yourself in the rain.

Let’s drop the pretentiousness and masturbatory, ego-stroking verboseness (there I go again).

Dr. Weyandt puts it better than I ever could:

“I’m racing racing towards it
Like when I was a small boy
Cutting through a waving field
Decorated by summer sunlight
Unable to remember
Unable to forget
Unaware yet at peace
Unaware yet scared
I’m racing racing towards it with fear and excitement
They seem unseperable
They seem so far apart
They are my close friends
They are my very ghosts
I’m racing towards it
Holding perfectly still
In the race of standing still”

(originally written 4/12/08 )




How?

21 07 2008
Tired.

A little hung up on the space cadets.

Motivation is left to the bats in aisle 6.

Run from the cowardly lion.

Get out of my head, you ballistic machete.

Stream-of-consciousness is for morons and pretentious fools.

No more of this.

How do I get rid of this feelingness?

Maybe some meaning will spontaneously erupt from the nonsensical musings of a lazy, apathetic couch (computer chair) monkey.

Battle the inane rebellion of nematodes.

“Existence, it’s no surprise.”

Prom night.

Unaware of how to make some aware.

“Self-pity is useless, I’ll not entertain your sickness.”

“These four walls have seen the worst of me, they’re bleeding confession, they’re weak at the knees.”

Breathe.

This is ridiculous.

Refrain from biting the children, please.

Corrupting the innocent?

or

Comforting the hurting?

What else can I do?

Awkward diary entry ftw.

But it goes on.

Have you stopped reading yet?

I have.

Get out of my visions.

Stop feeding me your lines, and I’ll stop being bitter.

Misrepresentation is not cool.

What is this about?

Your guess is as bad as mine.

Just face the wall and count your blessings.

Walk out of the room and into the sauna. It’s hot. Get out, quick, before your body gets all wrinkly.

“The very idea of beauty died so long ago…

But sometimes I catch a glimpse.”

nevermind

It’s not worth repeating.

Spoonfed children, play nicely and don’t ask questions, it’s the same as biting the hand that feeds you. Keep your voices down, and we’ll keep satiating your hunger with our bilge. Your petty arguments amuse us. Please don’t deprive us of your forced innocence. Your ignorance is our bliss. Bring us joy. Please don’t ever grow up. Don’t leave the sandbox. Trying new things is dangerous. Yes, we know your Jack-In-The-Box longs to be free of his imprisonment, but he’s been confined there for a reason. If he does something other than the box allows, he will no longer be Jack and our comfortable expectancy will be duly offended.

Our boxes bring us comfort.

The writer will probably regret writing what is written.

(originally written 4/11/08 )




Questions (lame note don’t read)

21 07 2008
Am I humbly seeking contentment with a simpler life, or am I dodging difficulty?

Am I nobly satisfied with less, or am I afraid of more?

Am I bravely striving to try something new, or am I afraid of finishing what I started?

Am I trusting God with my future or just throwing up my hands, saying “Whatever happens, happens”?

Am I quitting because I’m lazy, or because I have no interest?

Am I continuing because I’m afraid of life outside these walls, or because I want to seize the opportunity while it’s here?

Am I stupidly throwing away a secure future, or seeking to find what it is I’m really passionate about?

Am I being wise and a good steward by staying, or am I afraid of being on my own?

Am I listening to what others say? Am I listening to myself? Am I listening to God? Or a combination of all three?

Am I looking for true happiness, or the easy way out?

Do I really have no interest, or do I just doubt my own abilities?

Do I pride myself in not caring about money, or am I just being lazy?

Am I being redundant, or do I just keep repeating the same question in different ways?

(originally written 2/25/08 )




Why?

21 07 2008
Because non-sequiturs are the first step to enlightenment.

“I’d rather be forgiven than enlightened.”

(originally written 2/7/08 )




When?

21 07 2008
I’m back.

Random spasms attack the bottom region of celluloids.

Today is the day for gnawing on branches.

Xerxes was your mother, thirty times is the number.

The interested politicians greet each other at the funeral of honesty.

Hard to be a frying hat-trick, right?

When will the organization be colonized to meet my needz?

General Monkey-Bandit always steals my last cookie.

Don’t eviscerate the organs.

Forget about furthering the cause.

It won’t work.

(originally written 2/6/08 )




Who?

21 07 2008
When did the turkey manifest itself into being?

Who are you to attack the killing bee?

In the sadness of majestic living sarx apples the grandfather takes the cake. For his occupational career.

Rabbits do the shower dance on Jerry Springer.

Happiness is a small Indiana car salesman.

For the records, the virgin mobile furtherings of intelligence seem to have lost their integrity.

How is it that one can come to this conclusion?

Be right back.

(originally written 2/6/08 )