aspie ranting |
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If I seem a little distant or incoherent, it's because I am. I am not a NeuroTypical and I have no desire to become one. This is simply the area in which I stim my creative impulses. (WARNING: All entries are either ENTIRELY TRUE or ENTIRELY FALSE and anything claiming to be one of the latter is, in fact, one of the former. There are no exceptions to this rule.) comments, marriage proposals, and death threats can be sent here 
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Monday, April 30, 2001
my plurabella, where have you gone? you're everywhere I want to be, but see to it I'm never there... I miss you more than anything... I wish you knew, or cared... but for now, you're gone -- forever. Il y avait qu'il fallait d�truire et d�truire et d�truire, Il y avait que le salut n'est qu'� ce prix. Aimer la perfection parce qu'elle est le seuil, Mais la nier sit�t connue, l'oublier morte, L'imperfection est la cime. Friday, April 27, 2001
Thursday, April 26, 2001
and looking back, I should have just left this trip silent... oh well, what's done is done... *grins* this is rather nice; everyone is asleep in my room but me. It would be rather soothing, but they all snore. Chris and Erick snore 180 degrees out of phase too... it's rather amusing how it ALWAYS works out like that. though, in all fairness, Chris hasn't snored once tonight... more of a dull heavy breathing so far... oh well. *thinks* things will change drastically when I get back... and they have no idea... (though, maybe now they have an idea, but not of how...) Firstly, thanks to my friend Danny for allowing me to use his laptop... the joys of being on the road with nothing left to do but organize my thoughts and feelings... revalations, much? I don't have a whole lot to say, seeing as how I've only been gone a couple of days, but it's been fun so far. the point is, for those of you who miss me and those of you who just pretend to when I talk to you, I may post a couple more times while I am away, or I may not... I don't know if I'll have the time. Tuesday, April 24, 2001
Monday, April 23, 2001
Together, we never saw what I could see... "Maybe this will pass," Europa says. Wailing, I say "Light Loads will carry the heaviest moments." Tear into Europa's Light Load... for a lost passion is a sepulchral cornerstone and I might as well be dead because nobody seems to (show they) care unless I'm on that path and don't offer me your sugar coated hugs because I see through them so they might as well be mortar upon that cornerstone circles and circles grow in the garden and as confusing and entrancing they might as well be the walls and you just you reading you might as well be the door that slams shut behind me right when I think I'm outside and the door swings shut with a bitter satisfaction almost slammed but not that forced so easy for you (it always was) and to top it all off nobody seems to hear me or speak and all your self-righteous lies, they cover me so they might as well be the roof don't you get it yet? or do you truly hate me that much? silence kills and I should only be so lucky... disjointed ever since that quick (always surrogate) goodbye a kiss lastly enduring tasting something primordial beyond either of us the sum is more than the parts I love you I let you burn me I give you all I can and I come back for more you kiss him while telling me you care and it's a bit hard to believe but I can't help trusting distrust is my sword and shield and trust my nectar and nepenthe and your devoted silence speaks of your silent devotion and if you never said a word but trod upon the earth love is eating me to death and then again to birth... I am nature's lothesome animal... I am morality's mortician... I am death's keeper... I am everything... I am nothing... I am... I am abomination's persona non grata... I am only what is reflected in my eyes... one theory: Life energy pervades the entire universe, just as light and gravity do. Therefore, all life is one, just as all light is one. All energies, you see, are broadcast from a central source, yet to be found. If four amino acids -- adenine, cytosine, guainine, and thymine -- suddenly become life when you throw them together, then all chemicals are potentially alive. You and me and the fish and the bugs are that kind of life made from adenine, cytosine, guainine, and thymine: DNA life. What we call dead matter is another kind of life: non-DNA life. Okay so far? If awareness is life and if life is one, then the awareness of the individual is just one of the universe's sensory organs. The universe produces beings like us to percieve itself. You might think of it as a giant, self-contained eye. So, here's the trip... Automobiles run on mechanical energy, heat energy, and electrical energy, so can all automobiles in the world be in contact? Yes! How, you ask? What burns? Well, only organic matter burns, and all organic matter is descended from a single cell. All fire is one. And all automobiles communicate with eachother. Saturday, April 21, 2001
Which appeared first, Life or Death? Then, Death must surely be the next evolutionary step after life... Life is a coming apart and Death is a coming together... We keep our instincts as our primate ancestors, but we superimpose culture and law on top of this. So we get split in two, dig? You might say, mankind is a statutory ape... If you want to confront Evil, you will have to confront it on its own terms, not in the form that suits your own mediocre concepts of a Final Battle... Friday, April 20, 2001
Thursday, April 19, 2001
*raises a glass* here's to emails that make me numb... here's to the lies enclosed (and now enveloped) in the dark haze of morning... here's to half-hearted goodbyes... Wednesday, April 18, 2001
If I don't like it, I'll punch you in the nose... If there were more bloody noses, there'd be less wars... Tuesday, April 17, 2001
He's either awfully dumb and trusting, or he's so damned smart he's going to be dangerous someday... Beethoven as a merry prankster with inside jokes... Beethoven's Fifth Symphony begins: da-da-da-DUM. Morse code for V -- the Roman numeral for five. *smiles* how many people do not look close enough for the hidden (and inside) jokes...? Monday, April 16, 2001
Et si grand soit le froid qui monte de ton �tre, Si br�lant soit le gel de notre intimit�, Je parle en toi; et je t'enserre Dans l'acte de conna�tre et de nommer. though my eyes discerned her not, there moved a hidden virtue from her, at whose touch the power of love was strong within me. "... but we grisly old Sykos who have done our unsmiling bit on alices, when they were yung and easily freudened..." -- James Joyce, Finnegan's Wake. herein lies things which are plainly obvious... humour me... for the survival of life, it is necessary that the predators should have more in the way of cunning and quick wits... So, the predators will always be (at least) one step ahead... and life goes on... Sunday, April 15, 2001
There are very few personal problems that cannot be solved through a suitable application of high explosives. the following is in a bitter tone... directed at a blonde who is undeserving of such beauty... Quand la nuque se tend Le cri toujours d�sert prend une bouche pure. Saturday, April 14, 2001
he can feel the ground move beneath him in a dance of uncertainty. A million balloons are bursting all around him, each balloon representing a twinkle of light, each light a part of the infinite ladder of light. he is watching himself die, in horror and ecstacy, through the eyes of a little boy. How did my karma ever land me here? he thinks as he dies, and the boy hears him thinking... why not merely the despaired of occasion of wordshed is it not better abort than be barren the hours after you are gone are so leaden they will always start dragging too soon the grapples clawing blindly the bed of want bringing up the bones the old loves sockets filled once with eyes like yours all always is it better too soon than never are you ripe at last? he that endureth even to the end hath sworn that Love's own corpse shall lie at noon even in the coffin of its hopes and spend all the force won by its old woe and stress in now annihilating nothingness. lubricate my smile you make me halcyon in every sense symphonic sympathy phosporatic nightlight nightlife justifiably unreliable eviscerated emotions illuminate the sky with an emotional eclipse emotions sine elipse sigma you sigma me all we need for we is you to the power of me two to the n is not enough to describe I need you you are my modus vivendi I love you emotionally because you make me feel you don't return it the intellectual love of things consists of understanding their perfections count that out as well a voice not my own spews from my mouth yelling at you I'm a put on artist, love everything a facade vulgar visage do I lie about everything or just about being a put on artist? you're my judge jury and executioner cut my thread make me dead you're the final word and mine is said Which me is the real me? Is it so easy to flow into my soul because there is so little soul left? I see the white light and then the black that does not pulsate or move. I see the whiteness of whiteness is black. I can see it and it can see me. In the dark. There are things worse than death, vivisections of the spirit. I should run. Why do I sit here? Inside my mind, the cold of interstellar space. It is like a chimney without end. Up and up forever, in deeper and deeper darkness. And the red all-seeing eye. I want to join it. I want to become it. I have no more will of my own. I take thee, old whore death, as my lawful wedded wife. I am mad. I am half-mad. Unity. Friday, April 13, 2001
The great Sufi sage Nasrudin once invented a magic wand. Wishing to patent such a valuable device, Nasrudin waved the wand and created a patent office, which immediately appeared in 3-D Technicolour. Nasrudin then walked in and told the clerk, "I want to patent a magic wand." "You can't do that," said the clerk. "There is no such thing as a magic wand." Nasrudin immediately waved his wand again, and the patent office and the clerk both disappeared. A sin is to knowingly hurt a sentient being except where it would be a greater sin, a greater hurt, to refrain... hmm... I fail to see how sex can be a sin... We never see what is right in front of our eyes. I have brought men and women to the edge of the Vision, by various tactics, and they, afraid to see it, ran off to psychiatrists... "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law." hmm... let's try this again... "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law." dig? maybe this will help... "The question is, who is it that seeks the True Self?" it's not about taking a step back to gain perspective; you'll just be that much more removed... take a step forward, and believe... but believe everything... and be free... falling, flailing fledgling cold creation sub-station of love... climbing, catching, stretching, sleeping, until wednesday... Thursday, April 12, 2001
"The root cause of violence is deprivation of physical pleasure..." -- James Prescott (a neurophysiologist) again, disappointed on all fronts... I have a serious problem, but how does one get help for overestimating people? "Hey, can you cure my optimism?" well, you know what? I think I'm cured... a dangerous mind is only dangerous because it knows what it is capable of coveting. You? Wednesday, April 11, 2001
"Maggie was right... you're not as smart as you think you are..." -- Mollie I find this quite amusing... but then again, liars tend to think alike... so, does that make your secrets more safe, or less safe? paint me of shadows of darkness of blight but don't run away when night brings the fight... People don't do things like this because someone asked them to... they choose to do whatever they like... isn't free will horrible like that... "There is no free will or human dignity on the emotional level..." -- Timothy Leary We have to believe that we have free will; we have no choice in the matter... Tuesday, April 10, 2001
night falls, like tunnel vision, stars exploding in nuclear perfection twinkling in time with crying eyes. Staring off into florescent lights I realize I'm gone and I can never come back "Nobody loves you when you're down and out Nobody knows you when you're on cloud nine..." -- John Lennon, Nobody Loves You When You're Down And Out to anyone who wondered the point of the goose-in-the-bottle riddle, it's not about the goose... it's about getting you out of "you" without destroying YOU. dig? Voice #42 of the day - "Don't start feeling sorry for yourself. You've discovered love is more than a word in poetry, and you want it right away... That's better. At least you didn't fall into feeling guilty about the block. That's an infinite regress. The next stage is to feel guilty about feeling guilty . . . and pretty soon you're back in the trap again, trying to be the governor of the nation of yourself." thanks, I needed that... the robot almost took over for a second... If this be schizophrenia, I said with a P. Henry twist (one better than an O. Henry twist), make the most of it! I looked deeper... did you think I was surprised by this? the look in your eyes told me you were lying. but why, dear girl, do you lie to him who loves you and who only wants you to have the happiness you so richly deserve don't lie to him as you did to me. Can you endure such promiscuity? She is not renowned for fidelity; But to jab a knife in my vitals... I deprecate your attendance of this page... Struck of the blade that no man parrieth Pierced of the point that toucheth lastly all, 'Gainst the grey fencer, even Death, Behold the Shield! He shall not take thee all. i sit the moon comes through the window bright a single solitary stream of light.... for none to see but me it illuminates my ice cold room it illuminates the realization it illuminates what has taken place my heart in pieces my mind confused i try without prevail not putting it back together my room so cold a darkness enshrouds me a seperation a deterioration away from it all i sit and cry why? Tell me where thy lovely love is, Whom thou once did sing so sweetly, When the fairy flames enshrouded Thee, and held thy heart completely. All the flames are dead and sped now And my heart is cold and sere; Behold this page, the urn of ashes, 'Tis my true love's sepulchre. O ye lips that are ungrateful, Hath it never once distressed you, That you can say such aweful things Of any one who ever kissed you? Monday, April 09, 2001
First i should say, compared to my companion mr. dexter, my blogs might not be as...deep...but we shall see thank you for inviting me here, dex...i shall do my best... So shall you be also, You slut-bellied obstructionist, You sworn foe to love and emotion, You fungus, you continuous gangrene upon the soul of emotion. Or perhaps I will die tomorrow? Perhaps you will have the pleasure of defiling my loveless grave; I wish you joy, I proffer you all my assistance. It has been your habit for too long to do away with good lovers, You either drive them mad, or else you blink at their suicides, Or else you condone their drugs, and talk of insanity and genius, But I will not go mad to please you, I will not flatter you with an early death, Oh, no, I will stick it out, Feel your hates wrigglinh about my feet As a pleasant tickle, to be observed with derision, Thoigh many move with suspicion, Afraid to say that they hate you; And it is doubtful if even your manure will be rich enough To keep grass Over your grave. To anyone who associates with miss Mollie, You have a choice to make. If you continue to associate in any way with mollie, then you will lose me completely from your life. Some would count this a blessing; Some might not. That is all. p.s. if anyone thinks I am not serious, then try me... *flash* touch... that's why I've been so hooked on touch... all that we experience is touch... hearing is just a refined touch sensation -- you feel the "eardrum" moving to the vibrations of sound... smelling is just feeling the aroma of certain chemical compunds -- through the fine pallette of the nose... Taste is how your tongue feels the chemicals of whatever is on it -- certain parts of the tongue feel some chemicals more than others... and, get this, Sight is just your eyes feeling the light hitting your eyes -- actually, the bleaching of certain chemicals on the back of the eye, but let's not get all technical about it... or maybe I'm just full of shit... best you decide for yourself... "Come on, Mal, you and I both know that you passed through me but not of me... you were like some alien virus and I was just the host..." -- my mother Thanks mom, as if my friends don't already think I'm some kind of alien or something. See, it's things like this which make me who I am... Nurture or Nature? *shrugs* I love you, mom... "...being humus, the same roturns." -- James Joyce, Finnegan's Wake Parasites of Heaven returns... but only because it won an honourary award. [and for those (dis)interested, I am not a goth but I think I could pull it off] be happy for me... *smiles* Will they be touched with the verisimilitudes? Their virgin stupidity is untemptable. I beg you, my friendly critics, Do not set out to procure me an audience. And we say good-bye to you also, For you seem never to have discovered That your relationship is wholly parasitic; Yet to our feasts you bring neither Wit, nor good spirits, nor the pleasing attitudes Of discipleship. Sunday, April 08, 2001
sorry for my lack of talent, sorry for my pain sorry I never kisse you lately in the ever pouring rain... Saturday, April 07, 2001
Friday, April 06, 2001
just lost the last desire to be good... what's the point if all I ever cause is ill... nobody left to tell me what I do is right... nobody left to help me with my fight... I never seem to get my fill... the sounds of encouragement just ripped my ears... the subtle torturers pretend to agree... "Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky. Shine on you crazy diamond. ... Come on you target for far away laughter, Come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine..." -- Pink Floyd, Shine On You Crazy Diamond something has surely changed; something is not the same, I don't wanna know just where she will go but doubless there's something to blame... New Substance Freaks Physics Experiments on a newly created composite material have shown that it bends microwaves passing through it in a direction that seems to defy the laws of physics, scientists said on Thursday, in a discovery that could help in making more advanced lenses and antennas. The composite, made of fiberglass and copper, caused microwaves shot through it to bend in an opposite direction than the laws of physics predict, making it the first material to have a "negative index of refraction," physicists said in a study appearing in the journal Science. Bikini-clad Madonna sparks anger Archbishop Michael Sheehan said the work, Our Lady, depicted Mary "as if she were a tart". But Alma Lopez (the artist) has said she sees nothing offensive about showing the Virgin Mary as a modern day woman. "Even if I look really hard at Our Lady, I don't see what is so offensive, honestly. I see beautiful bodies that are gifts from our creator." *sigh* I'm making her a CD mix... because it appears to be over now... (good luck with your other person...) Soul, was she not your fair and final brightness? Didn't your bodies fit perfectly? Bone to bone, a miracle of calibration and metre, didn't the shape of lips, and small well under her throat, rhyme easily as my hand fitting under her damp nape? She fitted the ribs of my body like a boat. End this madness right now. Let the last line be an empty lot after work. Santa Monica changes its gels for the fade. We become, said Borges, books when we are dying. I died and did not become any book in the city of angels. to inhale a bracing horizon above the cares of this world where the steamroller's heartbeat dies on blue, indivisible air. Thursday, April 05, 2001
I speak no thing, I am no more, goodbyes... I am just Pan's clone, one more translated satyr in lockjawed lycanthropia. The lady's gaze piercing me like a freshly fired silver bullet in my heart forever lodged... goodbye. to anyone familiar with graeco-roman "mythology" and the characters of it: I have a similar ability to that of Cassandra of Troy. In fact, the ability and the curse are the same. I have had them all my life... the moral of my life seems to be: people don't want to know the truth... they're happy being robots... to my crazy taxi driver: you'll never find me and never fall and never love me no, not at all... you've got his heart on your mind and play the part and lie in kind... your lies will kill me it's very plain I loved none more than you in vain... You of the finer sense, Broken against false knowledge, You who can know at first hand, Hated, shut in, mistrusted: Take thought: I have weathered the storm, I have beaten out my exile... "do not lust after results..." -- Aliester Crowley why do I understand things so clearly only when I'm destroyed? must be my ishtar complex... *sigh* naked again... and alone... fuck it... cut the cord... unplug my life-support... kill me in my sleep... before the pressures from inside turn me colder... Wednesday, April 04, 2001
"and the truth will set you free..." fuck... I need someone... I need something to hold me and tell me that it's not all okay... and that I am never going to get over this... I need to stop crying... but I won't... there was a time when I thought that love is not possible... how wrong I was, and how happy I am that I was so wrong... Ananova - Hot cockroach poo 'can cure babies' ulcers' Cockroach poo can cure babies' mouth ulcers, a Thai doctor claims. Dr Kanvee Viwatpanich has scoured ancient texts and spoken to healers about insect-based remedies. He has been told to heat the poo, and rub it into the sores of new-born babies. Dr Viwatpanich, of the National Institute of Thai Traditional Medicine, thinks cockroaches have the most medicinal potential. "It was very distinctly used in the past, has survived for thousands of years and has some very good properties," he told the Straits Times. "I have talked to village doctors and they seem to have real confidence in cockroach poo." Dr Viwatpanich also met monks, who fried a cockroach with seven centipedes and pepper, crushed it with honey, and used it to treat sore throats. In some parts of Thailand insects are even used to make jewellery or children's flying toys. The group of researchers hope to get funding next year for clinical trials and toxicity tests. ~~~~~ mmm... cockroach poo... *chuckles* Clich� of the moment: Absence is to love as wind is to fire, it extinguishes the small and kindles the great. imagine that as an SAT question... Tuesday, April 03, 2001
I challenge you to go one day (24 hours) without using the word "me" or any of its derivatives (ie "my," "mine," "I," etc.)... it sounds a lot easier than it is, I assure you... perhaps, to sweeten the deal, if you slip up, then bite your thumb... hard... I'm willing to bet that within 3 hours you'll have a very bruised thumb... (and perhaps an even more bruised ego) *unless you know the trick* The human mind is ingenious enough to prove or disprove any proposition, to its own satisfaction, if not to the satisfaction of those who lack the Faith to believe it. (haiku) Fragments 4-1-2001 moonlight drops of the ver- While I slept they came: Botticelli sky: Sunday, April 01, 2001
in a similar theme as this: Now Time's Andromeda on this rock rude, With not her either beauty's equal or Her injury's, looks off by both horns of a shore, Her flower, her piece of being, doomed dragon food. Time past she has been attempted and pursued By many blows and banes; but now hears roar A wilder beast from West than all were, more Rife in her wrongs, more lawless, and more lewd. Her Perseus linger and leave her to her extremes? -- Pillowy air he treads a time and hangs His thoughts of her, forsaken that she seems, All while her patience, morselled into pangs, Mounts; then to alight disarming, no one dreams, With Gorgon's gear and barebill / thongs and fangs. Elected Silence, sing to me And beat upon my whorl�d ear, Pipe to me pastures still and be The music that I care to hear. My own heart let me more have pity on; let Me live to my sad self hereafter kind, Charitable; not live this tormented mind With this tormented mind tormenting yet. I cast for comfort I can no more get By groping round my comfortless, than blind Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find Thirst's all-in-all in all a world of wet. I think people who fancy themselves "cutting edge" should travel back (metaphorically, of course) in time to 1977 and study the musings of Dr. Ilya Prigogine, Nobel prize winner in physical chemistry. I will explain why in a couple of days... sign my guestbook with what you come up with and why it fits with the theme of the last entry... (first paragraph to a paper written for my AP Government (first semester, economics) class about two years ago... the assignment was to design a new economic system... preferably one which did not borrow from systems before it... I got an "A." and I didn't draw from anything previously established or even attempted...) Neither capatalist indust-reality nor socialist indust-reality have been able to give humanity what most of us really want: liberty and justice, freedom and the abolition of poverty, continued growth and continued security. In looking at capatalism vs. socialism, we are always confronted with a dilemma, not a choice. Our next step must be neither capatalist nor socialist, nor some milkwater blend of the two. It will demand a whole new economy, just as feudalism created an economy unknown to tribal humanity and industrialism created the two competing economies of capatalism and socialism, both unguessed and unpredictable from the perspective of the feudal stage. Fear, however, is not terribly appropriate; many seeming symptoms of breakdown are actually harbringers of breakthrough. I wonder how many people who have read Kafka have ever stopped to think about why you never get to the court or the castle... and of those, how many realized why... *smiles* I think I'm home... I wish I could be brave enough to upload my new layout... but I think my fear of showing any code is going to overwhelm me yet again... |
faeries have died because YOU haven't been clapping hard enough.