Mornings

I want to build a bed that when the alarm rings dumps you onto the side street by your house, along with whatever you had ready to go that day, a backpack with food, a laptop, a book, some clothes... Whatever is necessary. This way you can be out of you time-lagged house bubble in zero to negative time, waking up already in the real world, in current city pace time, no room to consolidate nightmares and dreams, to sort out emotions, to tinker around with french presses. The era of big government demands your contribution, so you can settle for truck-stop coffee... Today... And every other day, whenever those days come. But when you get dumped, the future doesn't exist, neither does the past, and you are glad.

The divided self

I'm pretty sure i'm schizoid to some degree, if not fully and properly diagnosed, after reading Laing I fully feel like i fit the description of someone lacking ontological security. My relationship with people is very much influenced by how my immediate existence depends on their recognition and approval of me, but in a way that does not fully comprehend me, lest they turn me into an object. A deadly situation has shown itself to me and i am all at once shocked, wondering what got me here and whether I am alone in this state of existence. This is good. This is very good. This is great.  Now, I can be myself, autonomous, nevermind that I have been autonomous all these years, but the lack of trust has taken a toll on my psyche, and, as my mother used to say, nerve cells don't grow back. The sooner I stop giving people the key to my legitimacy, to my efficacy, my existence... the longer I can live a more authentic life before death inevitable knocks me off my wretched feet. If for whatever reason I lose touch with this realization, somebody please remind me. Now that would be a nice app... Ontological insecurity reminder app. Makes me wonder how much of this is my distant past and how much of it is a constant bombardment to preserve myself via visual and auditory validation techniques developed in boiler toom basements with nice couches in the lunch rooms. Techniques that bombard us on a daily basis. I gotta be busted up before i glue it all back together. 

Dear

Astronomy has this way of crumbling when trying to express a potential negative effect, like when you might be hit with an asteroid mid february, and all hell might break loose with your spouse, but hey, it's February 14th, love is in the air! Go out there and buy something! And you know what? I agree. People who have enough money to lounge around and scope out their horoscope for the weekend should be out their spending money to boost the economy.

An image of the future

I think that the free market will prevail and evolve to this thing with people planting seeds in dirt and the seeds are coded genetically to grow as by the authorship of the author of the seed, and the seed will bear all sorts of goods for the earth and we will all benefit from them all, and the playground will be this carefully constructed playground of perfect love faith and reason, with room for chaos, and room for the code to express itself, much like the way a computer expresses itself when given the opportunity. 

This would be unlike our current condition, apes playing gods competing for paper, planet earth in its early stages and we're still much too proud and not humble enough... This idea itself is worth a thousand hours from a billion people to think about... 

Our form or authorship is this brutal chopping of shape and color, innocently retarded, disabled, somewhat slow in realizing how much more complex natural beauty is. But we're much too proud, we refuse to learn, so we chop the spectrum and fuck on...