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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Friday, August 30, 2002
"can't keep away from the girl these two sides of my brain need to have a meeting can't think of anything to do my left brain knows that all love is fleeting she's just looking for something new and I said it once before but it bears repeating" -- Fell In Love With A Girl (Who Fell In Love With A Girl) by The White Stripes *giggles* Monday, August 26, 2002
you and I will be together as we should be soon not to worry love it's just a matter of time for us. Sunday, August 25, 2002
Wednesday, August 21, 2002
syncretic sacrilege in hailing inhaling of a love inducing drug you always were my downfall, but oh how fun the downfall always is I have but one adventure left for us to ease all of the lasting pain so from our perpetual fall we will ride and rise on our powdered wings but the brew we will leave upon will be from a spellbook and we will reside in Truth Tuesday, August 20, 2002
(sad, poor attempts at haiku) Gray sky and gray bay No division between them A dead dreary dawn The weather report predicted a sunny day: All I see is fog After the fog lifts, A naked beauty: blue sky With buttermilk clouds Botticelli sky: No fog, no Chinese touches-- A Rennaisance day how can you sit there playing a game of "truth or dare" and not see the reality I tell you I love you I tell you I care and all you can do is turn away and talk about your hair yes I saw it and no I don't hate it but other things are somewhat more important, a bit all that I want from you and all that I need is friendship, a comrade, someone with whom I can bleed and open my heart to and cut through the shit but you're high and all you wanna do is split you're happy with distance, it makes you feel strong but fuck me, I'm nobody... and maybe you're right... Monday, August 19, 2002
you wouldn't understand... and if you did, by some odd chance of fate, then you'd never believe me... I'd cry, but I think I've forgotten the separation between a ghost and a friend but in the end, there is no friend there is no enemy anywhere there is there is not billowing out of black hole wholly regretting never forgetting suspecting a conspiracy and I suspect that you're in on me and I'm afraid that I'm gonna snap and never come back. Sunday, August 18, 2002
"Choices always were a problem for you. What you need is someone strong to guide you. Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow, what you need is someone strong to use you... like me, like me. If you want to get your soul to heaven, trust in me. Don't judge or question. You are broken now, but faith can heal you. Just do everything I tell you to do. Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow. Let me lay my holy hand upon you. My God's will becomes me. When he speaks out, he speaks through me. He has needs like I do. We both want to rape you. Jesus Christ, why don't you come save my life. Open my eyes and blind me with your light and your lies." -- Opiate, by Tool Friday, August 16, 2002
Tuesday, August 13, 2002
Monday, August 12, 2002
"If, when I say I may fade like a sigh if I stay, You minimize my movement anyway, I must persuade you another way. There's no love in fear. Staring down the hole again. Hands upon my back again. Survival is my only friend. Terrified of what may come. Just remember I will always love you, Even as I tear your fucking throat away. But it will end no other way." -- Pushit, by Tool "What's coming through is alive. What's holding up is a mirror. But what's singing songs is a snake Looking to turn this piss to wine. They're both totally void of hate, But killing me just the same. The snake behind me hisses What my damage could have been. My blood before me begs me Open up my heart again. And I feel this coming over like a storm again. Considerately. Venomous voice, tempts me, Drains me, bleeds me, Leaves me cracked and empty. Drags me down like some sweet gravity. The snake behind me hisses What my damage could have been. My blood before me begs me Open up my heart again. And I feel this coming over like a storm again. I am too connected to you to Slip away, to fade away. Days away I still feel you Touching me, changing me, And considerately killing me. Without the skin, Beneath the storm, Under these tears The walls came down. And the snake is drowned and As I look in his eyes, My fear begins to fade Recalling all of those times. I could have cried then. I should have cried then. And as the walls come down and As I look in your eyes My fear begins to fade Recalling all of the times I have died and will die. It's all right. I don't mind. I am too connected to you to Slip away, to fade away. Days away I still feel you Touching me, changing me, And considerately killing me." -- H. by Tool you wouldn't forget, would you? until you walked away, I had hope... then you hung up on me and I was hung up on you all over again nothing left me comforted I used to dream about cutting your delicate throat I used to imagine the screams and you fighting me off (heh... fighting) or getting the little jokes like that made the difference funny how a friendship forms and ends with a pseudosapphic twist... just promise me you won't commiserate with all the girls that came before you... none could follow in your path Thursday, August 08, 2002
"Something kinda sad about the way that things have come to be Desensitized to everything What became of subtlety? How can it mean anything to me If I really don't feel anything at all?" -- Stinkfist, by Tool Tuesday, August 06, 2002
Monday, August 05, 2002
somehow I wish I knew where you were sleeping and if you keep planting what you're reaping but ripping me to shreds won't help anyone forgive my past transgressions and make me feel at home again keep me close to you again close closer closer still keep me as a part of you but maintain that healthy distance and when it all becomes too much for you you'll amputate mutilate eviscerate commiserate coagulate into a vicious viscous mess we'll never be untangled in the spiderwebs we weaved so leave but keep in mind you're dragging me along for the ride... "There is no difference in principle between sharpening perception with an external instrument, such as a microscope, and sharpening it with an internal instrument, such as one of these...drugs. If they are an affront to the dignity of the mind, the microscope is an affront to the dignity of the eye and the telephone to the dignity of the ear. Strictly speaking, these drugs do not impart wisdom at all, any more than the microscope alone gives knowledge. They provide the raw materials of wisdom, and are useful to the extent that the individual can integrate what they reveal into the whole pattern of his behavior and the whole system of his knowledge." -- Alan Watts Now there were many orbs afloat within this infinite ocean of darkness. Huge flaming ones; small cold ones; Even some with the weight of many large ones, yet so tiny, one could barely see them. But this was a very special orb, for it had something few of the other orbs had. It had life. Sunday, August 04, 2002
"Psycho, groupie, cocaine, crazy, Psycho, groupie, cocaine, crazy, Psycho groupie cocaine crazy, Psycho groupie coke, Makes you high, makes you hide, Makes you really want to go- stop." -- Psycho, by System Of A Down I can relate because of a phone call I got yesterday... I really hate how drugs increase my synaesthesia... I am completely depolarized... and and my senses rematerialize and reform the worlds information. it's a lot like my latest discovery... metasyntactic variable calculus... or not and earlier, I could taste through my skin... and I'm gonna read this tomorrow and feel incredibly stupid because all of this sounds so absurd and yet it is very profound to me... Friday, August 02, 2002
It will be argued that this program is hopelessly optimistic, that the momentum of despair is already too great, that history proves we are not up to the task and are condemned as a species to fade out in pain. To this I reply that, at least at first, only a fraction of the population need be consciously involved in the salvation of this planet. It does not require consensus. But there is a "critical mass", probably unknowable, which we are yet far from. There is a point up until which the forces of convergence must seem to be failing, but after which the tide is irrevocably turned. Despair will be possible until the very end. Thus we are still stirred from complacency to act, not to single-handedly change the whole, but rather to tip the balance. Our individual actions have influence far beyond what most of us assume, and this influence may be amplified now by the communications technology at our disposal. History is a transitional phase. Its brutality does not invalidate hope -- it shows how high the stakes are. It demonstrates, not the unique human capacity for evil, but the amplifying effect of self-awareness on animal nature. What is unique about humankind is self-reflecting consciousness; all else follows. It has turned animal aggressiveness into cruelty, animal territorialism into war, animal fear into guilt and hatred. But it has also turned animal affection into love, and in its purest form has created works of art which defy explanation in terms of animal nature. History is the turbulence caused by the infusion of self-consciousness into an animal system. History will end when that self-consciousness becomes total, independant of the animal which has hosted it. What this means in practical terms, it is impossible to say. There will be an air of familiarity, the sense of gazing into a collective mirror. After that, the embrace, and a kiss of reunion. Defeatism is seductive, it's true, and despair beckons at every corner when you look at what has been done to us over the past several decades. But total despair is useless, because it just reinforces the feelings of helplessness which you've been taught from day one. The only solution must start with the assumption that existence need not be miserable, and with the knowledge that the current state of affairs is relatively recent. Instead of giving up in any of the billion ways that you are told to give up, take an active role in pursuing life's potential for intensity. Fight the pall of laziness and helplessness that weighs down on you all day long. You owe it to yourself to struggle. Do you think? That is, are there ideas in your head that are at least partially your own? (And even a creative synthesis of old ideas is better than repeating the same old commercial patter minute after minute.) Then make it move -- find the words or the motions or the bodies that can carry your thoughts into the steam and whistles of the real world. It's doesn't help much sitting in your head -- take it to the streets! Spray-paint stencils of cryptic symbols, ornament trash cans and cracking sidewalks, leave a message in a bottle with your address in it, sing in public restrooms, scratch your words on school desks and playgrounds, singe their skin with your molecular love, put up hundreds of flyers anonymously, make loud Doppler-shift sounds as you pass people on the street, or lace bank windows with shaving cream question marks. At every moment a million possibilities lie open, beckoning the explorer to break the patterns that trap and enchain, to find new ones that drive back the darkness. I (mostly) adhere to the credo "Make your mark heavy and dark." (Plus the qualifier, "If you must erase, erase completely.") It seems that beneath the bureaucratic blandness and psychic trauma of my high school years was a call to action, an ontological rallying cry for those frantic souls out there who despaired of finding their voice. Make your mark heavy and dark. Be decisive. Know when to stop planning and act, and be ready to defend your position. Realize that you can't please everybody, and use to your advantage the prejudices of those who disagree with you. The concept is very easy to understand. The world is full of people who desperately want you to love, adore, worship and support them. In return they will allow you a little fantasy. They would never dream of having a conversation with you, however, because you are too stupid. They would never ask you what you think about anything because you're obviously boring. They would, however, have some use for you if you are physically attractive (but only if you have the traits that they claim to hate in ugly people -- stupid & boring). In the obsession of every artist to reach as many people as possible, he loses touch with anything resembling "street-level" messages. Studies have shown that if the artist does not actively strut and act important, the producers, record labels, magazines, club owners, and fans will become confused and scratch their grinding heads thinking, "Hmmm... Something is not right here." Yes, every spare moment must be spent in the endless pursuit of fame and love -- love that need not be reciprocated, adulation based on despicable premises. The more people who know who you are, the better. Those who have a gift to give should give it without prejudice. All in-crowds shall fall into disorder. All heroes sometimes choke. All beauty fades. Rise to fall, fall to rise. Nothing is hidden. Many lonely little boys and girls talk deeply about how life is a joke. If life is a joke, kill yourself. These kids just throw so much love and hate away and it's simply not coming back. If you can't say why you hurt, shut up. If you don't want to be looked at, get off the stage. If you want to be recognized, do something. Witnesses are never remembered. Or maybe you want to be a china doll that is locked away -- locked away with every boy and girl who wanted to get but was too lazy to give, who wanted to love but not be loved back, who wanted to be loved but not love back. You are the enemy -- the gutless witness, the voiceless, the Correct, the elite, the socially-satisfied "rebel". My insignia has meaning -- defiance. So be it. Thursday, August 01, 2002
(Kaelan quotes are fun!!!) "Because I'd like to wear pants, thank you very much." "You're just more wreckless than I am." "OH MY GOD! Band boys with accents!! *with wavering voice*" -- Kaelan |
faeries have died because YOU haven't been clapping hard enough.