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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Saturday, May 31, 2003
"I would like to change back now To the shadow of The shadow of my former self It follows me around" -- Follow Me Around by Radiohead Friday, May 30, 2003
Wednesday, May 28, 2003
"...and with my x ray eyes i strip you naked in a tight little world and are you on the list? stepford wives who are we to complain? investments and dealers investments and dealers cold wives and mistresses. cold wives and sunday papers..." -- "A Wolf At The Door" by Radiohead hysterical trench confessions home to many deceits home to many conceits obscure reveries walking eye-deep in hell wasting hours in contemplation sifting through oblivion in the presence of selected perceptions reflections of souls filled with holes but not wholly holy beauty is not eternal; there is no high road to the muses... Tuesday, May 27, 2003
"He broke from them and then he broke from himself; I've never seen a man so broken up..." -- Apocalypse Now to my favourite "dog in the manger..." Ah, people often grudge others what they cannot enjoy themselves... Monday, May 26, 2003
a heart cries out in a perfect approximation of loneliness the pain of spoken word cleaving my ears record your progress, reward, and regress regrets multiply in stone cold judgement and pillars of salt no undoing leaves shreds of doubt shreds of regret built into a nest (even the phoenix needs fuel) cold to the touch untoched by the eyes longing to prey on the fear of the hunted eyes bled to the darkness, bred to the darkness, never belonging to the darkness Sunday, May 25, 2003
Friday, May 23, 2003
Tamper-proof protected seal borne of paper cup's consumer zeal disposable but no less real rolling through the wheel of karma disposable regret turnstile implicit love explicit hate tossing and turning though my conscience is clear [I suffer inwit's agenbite] I hide in obvious places and leave convincing paper traces [is this trite?] demons bereft of reason my heart hung of perpetual treason (hunted heart shot down like a dove, and garnished with an olive branch) fear of being hunted tear of the darkness bleed shadow stark eyes on a backdrop of night when the masks we wear don us, the felicity of the dream dies The fact that we measure time linearly while, at the same time, the days repeat endlessly until we die, attests to the reality of the human condition. Nobody alive is innocent. Every act of survival is an act of destruction. Every breath destroys universes. We are all Murderers. Tuesday, May 20, 2003
I do not believe in the progress of human nature, nor do I believe in the progress of human behaviour. Most people seek conflict, both internal and external, to the degree they can tolerate. Since most humans can't tolerate too much inner conflict (tension) -- as it makes them too aware of time -- they seek external causes and events to occupy themselves. Thus, status quo is alwyas defined in terms of level and type of conflict and tension a person can tolerate. There are no free people, only slaves who have more privileges than others... Sunday, May 18, 2003
Saturday, May 17, 2003
Friday, May 16, 2003
the bridge persists
A vast network of jewels each containing the reflection of every other in harmony (Dreams of reason produce monsters...) 32 feet per second per second, I'm falling down vice and virtue no longer juxstaposed and there are no commandments because there is no commander in the emotional equivalent of suicide and far be it for me (or from me) to ruminate but it is only the most exalted who can fall all the way to the lowest depths and there is no righteous imprisonment "... and how are you tonight Mr. Wilson?" |
faeries have died because YOU haven't been clapping hard enough.