De-people-toxing.

Of Psyches, Hinduism & Arachnoids.

It has been said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Considering the fact that Hinduism claims that all people share the same ultimate spirit, Atman, and that spirit keeps taking forms in hope of getting liberated by karma’s laws and once more united into Brahman, its reciprocal equivalent soul of the world, that would mean that the whole scheme of existence wouldn’t qualify as mentally sound in the astrophysical superior being’s sheet. On its clipboard, we’d be put away as hopeless cases, experimenting occasional electric shocks that are supposed to put some sense back into us and being kept high on pills to put us out of the terminal misery that is existing in our own heads. Why couldn’t we have been born with the same genetic modification as the Arachno-genesis? That would be the fix to that critical bug in the system; we’d inherit the experience from our ancestors and would still have the ability of choice, being distinctly human. Maybe the creator thought that life is too long and we’d get bored that way? But life isn’t long, at all, it’s frightfully short. Am I the only one who sees this as one sick cosmic joke? Has this thought even occurred to anybody else? Theoretically speaking and statistically applying in light of what I just elaborated; it has. A thousand times before to beings all over the globe. Could the mere bug in our system be the reason we have lives in the first place? To actually try the same thing over and over again, not learn but rather live, enjoy and get fucked over a million times on the way? Would that mean that the ultimate joy people get out of life is ultimately a masochistic pre-mapped built-in train of automated psychological responses? But wouldn’t that also mean that learning is the anomaly? Learning would stop people, because contrary to common belief, the act of experiencing stops when you have experience, ironically worded. What’s the use of repetition if the soul is one, or as some claim, non-existent? If it’s the same, why have its memory formatted at equal phases? If it’s not there, then why bother?

Times Square Can’t Shine As Bright As You

I swear it’s true.

Ode To Dough.

Everything changes but little goes
Less of em fancy mages and more of em sloppy joes
With 10 years worth of wages, a bitch still owes
And debts fill up the pages, every digit shows
You'll rage in paper cages, you're checks'll be your foes
And as the scene engages, receipts'll be your hoes.

And Dream Of Para-Para-Paradise, Every time She Closed Her Eyes.

Everything Is Alright Again. <3

On Stranger Tides: 'Angelica' By Hans Zimmer (Full Song) HD

Gotan Project - Epoca

I've done the imponderable. The one thing that no one should ever subject themselves to; I've read my old diary entries.

Never, ever, under any circumstances, do you read your old journal entries. If there's a gateway to hell, this is the express line to it. Everything is so damn clear right now, it's so clear that i feel i've been blinded. I want to burn the damn thing, i want to burn it with everybody else in it. The only problem is that it's in my head now, has always been, locked away in dungeons and protected in a high fortress with moats. I made sure it was high enough not to let my short self in again, and now i've used the secret passages, and i wish i haven't.

Fuck this.

The Weeknd - High For This

“I mean, they say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time.”

- Banksy

The Ooh.

Something funny happened the other day. I was in physics class, and the teacher was going on about the difference between mechanical and electromagnetic waves in terms of propagation through medium, when it hit me. If sound was electromagnetic, the sun would have made us all go deaf. This can't be a coincidence, can it? Are we that important? How the little things may have been manufactured to preserve our existence, is it divine providence? The irony lies in the fact that physics is doing what religion failed to do, for a split second there, it made me go ooh.

I Really Really Like Necks.

I Believe. Or Not.

I believe in a lot of things i shouldn't and i don't believe in a lot of things i should. I believe that most people in the middle east have not been given the choice of having faith because they grew up with their religious beliefs spoon fed to them as a certainty, nor the chance to change or modify that for fear of social rejection or actual death. I believe that people are assholes, and that it's unusual for people to be good. I believe that people with coffee-complexions and British accents are absolutely irresistible. I believe that shows with terminally ill and dying patients can be enjoyable without you necessarily being a masochist. I believe that everybody has the right to fuck up their own life without any proactive missionary popping out their reformist cherry on their asses. I believe that people have the right to be fucked up in any way they please. And I believe that the only thing that's good about this constitution is that punching people is partially legal, and even if it's not; nobody really gives a fuck because there's no national security in this country and people are safe by sheer boredom of their country's criminals. I believe that gay scenes should not be cut or ewed at, because you fall in love with the person and not the guy, and i believe that coffee is the ultimate liquid happiness. I believe that people are selfish cruel beings and attachment to them in any possible way, emotional or psychological, is a disease that should be tended to. I believe people should read more books that defy the eastern mentality, and maybe even dare to write it without the fear of getting killed. I believe that you have the right to jog without having to hold a pepper spray and look out for people whose sole purpose in life is your hymen. I believe that there are no such things as soul-mates, only people who are compatible and give enough of a fuck about each other to put forward equal amounts of effort into the relationship. I believe that parents should get the fuck out of their kids life instead of destroying it to their niche. I believe that lying is the worst flaw a man can have and i believe that people are sexist bigots if they use the term man for creatures with a penis rather than a loose term for human beings. I believe that nice people are creepy. I believe that there's no such thing as right and wrong as there is what works with who you are and what doesn't, and I believe people should shut up and apologize if they're wrong rather than lead people on. I believe that insecure people are clingy and that stuck up snobs are easier to be friends with since their self esteem issues don't project onto you and are thus relatively more whole. I believe that nobody gives a fuck about anybody and if they do then they're not altruistic, they just have ulterior motives that you're too naive/desperate to see at a given point in time. I believe that most of the stuff that happen only take place in one's head, and i believe chicks are vicious creatures because of that fact and that guys are easier to handle since chicks can have their heads in their pants simultaneously while going on with their lives while guys are more target-oriented and hence more clear-headed when they don't have their head in their pants. I believe that nobody is special and you have tunnel vision if you think you are. I believe genetics affect people more than one might give them credit for and i believe that everybody is going through their own fight, in one way or another, that you might not always know about. I believe that expectations are a stupid prick's version of the make-a-wish foundation for their own ego. I believe that people do more things out of hormonal influence than they might even be conscious to admit and I believe that smoking your problems is better than eating them. I believe that exercising should be more for cathartic than health reasons since you're going to fucking die anyway and if you believe in fate then you might as well be buried in your own couch, for why get up and choose when it's all been chosen for you? I believe that cooking is an act of creation that not a lot of people are genetically born oriented towards and I believe that if you're judgmental then you most probably have enough fuck ups in yourself to deform la Gioconda. I believe that Erik Satie was the nearest to a saint as i might ever understand that expression to be and I believe that George Carlin did a better job than Joan of Ark. I believe that fake people are psychologically masturbating and that honest people, no matter how harsh they are, delusional or out of the realms of humanity they might be, are the closest thing to good that i'll ever admit to exist in this godforsaken world. I believe that people who care should be put away till they don't and I believe that Chocolate is the closest thing I've had or will ever have to getting off. I believe that everybody sells out, each at his own price, and consequently I believe that no man should be trusted as they might only be good because they have a stronger investment plan with the aforementioned price. And what does it matter? None of this will ever matter, because I also believe that pessimism is the optimism of the realists. Want an epiphany? Go read a bible, not my blog.

Of Hairline Cracks, Supermans & Shit.

Go easy on yourself. You're not as strong as you may seem, or think. You don't know when one thing, little as it may be, can hit home. That's the beauty of accumulative effect, it doesn't tell you when it hits, it doesn't have any symptoms or heads up. And when it comes, you have no one but yourself to blame, tho it was everyone involved in making it happen. Take it slow, and don't step out of your comfort zone all the time, or you'll lose track and might not ever find your way back there. Jump out of it from time to time, yes, but don't go wandering because somebody might eat your bread trail and you'll never find your way back home. You're not invincible, no matter how tightly you clutch onto your red cape, it's just a cape, and it's not bulletproof. It's too short to hide all of you, too. So don't be fooled. Don't be fooled by yourself, and how good you're doing, because you never know when a habit is being formed until it is, and habits break people, because no matter what you think; everybody is breakable, even you. You're breakable. You get hurt, even tho you might look detached and are so good at bouncing off traumas. You bounce off enough of those and you'll be bumped and bruised, and sometimes that crack in the windshield might break it into smithereens with enough speed and pressure. Just a hairline crack. So be gentle, be very gentle. You don't know when your hairline crack is gonna turn into a giant zigzag that goes right through your soul. You're your most precious possession, don't ever forget that, because if you do, nobody else will remember it as they look out for their own little diamonds and rubies. They'll crush you. Even tho you might egotistically think you can hold your own, sometimes you let it slip reaching for other people's own, and you fall headfirst into a rock and crack your skull, and when that happens, you only have yourself to blame.

'Hindus, in their capacity for love, are indeed hairless Christians, just as Muslims, in the way they see God in everything, are bearded Hindus, and Christians, in their devotion to God, are hat-wearing Muslims.'
- Life of Pi by Yann Martel.

Step From The Road To The Sea To The Sky.

Life Lesson #262: I honestly believe that the reason why people have intimacy issues is because they take the word 'implicated' way too seriously. People don't like it when they have somebody standing there going all: "I got your heeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyy ooooohhhhhhhhh, now listen what i saaaaay ooooooh." They want their 'hey oh' back, and they want it back now.

Life Lesson #263: What doesn't kill you gets you high. Look at it this way, if dying is floating way way up there beyond the reach of radio waves and rocket missiles, then a failed suicide attempt should be something like an earthbound missile, goes up high enough then loses momentum and gets a metaphysical erectile dysfunction and jams back into earth. However, you'll enjoy a high that not even Lil Wayne can phrase. It's amazing how a little change of perspective can make anything look trivial and everybody look replaceable. So by all means kill yourself people! Nothing and nobody will matter anymore, and the amount of shit you'll not give anymore will have you constipated. So my advice is, don't get gastric lavage, but go with it and jam back headfirst into earth; because it's fun, and life is short. Apparently tho, life is also that clingy ex that wouldn't leave you alone. It won't go without a fight, that is if the fight worked at all. Dying, as much it's easy, isn't very easy to get to; because hell, you can't get everything, can you?

Life Lesson #264: 'Come to believe that I better not leave before I get my chance to ride. When it's killing me, what do I really need; All that I need is to look inside.'

Life Lesson #265: 'And step over quietly, because we're not committing suicide, it's a revolutionary act.' Or is it?

Life Lesson #266: When you have the ability to mindfuck people and be able to sell anything to anyone, it's a little scary to be alone, because you don't know what your head might get you to do, now do you? I scare myself sometimes. I scare myself because i have no idea what i might do next. And i love it.

Life Lesson #267: 'Montag felt his hands might wither, turn over on their sides and never be shocked to life again. They would be buried for the rest of his life in his sleeves, forgotten. For these were the hands that acted on their own, no part of him. Here was where the conscience first manifested itself.' - Fahrenheit 451

Life Lesson #268: Faith is not feeling the need to ask why anymore, or to know why not. Faith is to be a sucker for things that you cannot explain, knowing that you can never explain them and not minding that anymore. And who would want that? Who wouldn't? Ray Bradbury said it better than i ever can: 'The folly of mistaking a metaphor for a proof, a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, and oneself as an oracle, is inborn within us all.'

Life Lesson #269: How am i not dead again?

Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy oooooooooooh

Of Smoothies & Idiots.

Sometimes, and I should be one to admit this once and for all for irony’s sake; she has to bask in glory at my expense every once in a while, patterns are there for a reason. Even if they’re not very functional, they sometimes prove less dysfunctional than others and are settled on as a compromise to save face and make everybody happy. There are unwritten codes that everybody seems to know about and follow, and those who break the code aren’t always graced with a fairytale ending, because odds are 99 to 1 that you’re not an exception. You think that having the balls to do something and breaking the pattern will actually be the magic pill that solves everything because nobody else thought of it now did they? How naïve can one person get? There’s a pattern, and the pattern is there for a reason, some people are graced by the pattern. Others, well, not so much. And a handful really get their nuts in a vice holding the shortest end of the bargain with their pride running off and disowning them for the nearest shrub, reincarnating as a mug of coffee that’s always there till people need it, and it knows deep down that people will inevitably want it because, hell, who can live without coffee man? Coffee is the ultimate smooth-talker; it’s so smooth it doesn’t even have to talk.

You’re not really supposed to get this, or maybe you will, trick is, you’ll never know if you got it or not now will you?

Patterns are there for a reason. Those who break the pattern are there to prove that the pattern exists for a reason, because in their mortification lies the pattern’s true essence. Their experience does the pattern’s job most of the time, and the pattern lives on because those who were bold enough to break it were not unbreakable themselves.
Naïve? Maybe. Bold? Definitely. Invincible? I beg to differ.

Karma thrives on patterns, and since Karma is a bitch, she doesn’t like to be crossed. However, since she’s also a bitch, she can get biased sometimes, fall for somebody here and there. Keep the illusion alive. The illusion that feeds the pattern that feeds her. It couldn’t have worked out better for Karma now, could it? It all fits in perfectly.

Everybody loves a rebel, but how many times have you seen a rebel get what he wants? How many times have you actually seen a surviving salmon that swam against the flow? If they swim with the flow, the current will eventually lead them to the place bears wait for food to arrive like a cozy couple that have already reserved, ordered, broken the ice and are waiting for food to come, to them, almost voluntarily, in a restaurant as they talk out everything that they think they control but really don’t; they’d stop talking as soon as the food comes, won’t they? They can’t control everything, they can control when the food might come; because with credit comes control. Any sort of credit and any sort of control. I wouldn’t see somebody expect the food to come in time if they’re known for their bouncing checks. And they can’t expect the food to come in time if they’re used to having rain checks. On a similar note, not a lot of salmon survives the immigration, but then again how many salmons have you heard of that survived because they didn’t feel like immigrating this year?

People who call patterns a cycle are those who’ve been in it long enough to know what a cycle feels like and have given up on trying to feel anything different out of it, or those who’ve never followed it for the adrenaline rush of knowing, if just for a second, that it may or may not change. But what they don’t know is that not following the pattern is a pattern in itself, which Karma inevitably controls. You can’t find a loophole in the laws of nature. That’s just how it is. You’d be naïve to think that you can change, bend, or even put a tiny little dent in the pattern. Because hell, it’s more elaborate than you think it is, little fellow.

Social codes exist for a reason. Somebody got stupid way too many times and decided to put some ground rules. Unwritten codes are unwritten for a reason, that stupid person would never have documented how stupid they were. How would they gain enough credibility to get people to listen to them by admitting they’ve done everything they had in the list of no-no’s?

The pattern was made by stupid people who never wanted to be stupid again and ended up wronging the stupid people by making them even more distinct against those who supposedly have it in them. They’ve outlined their own stretch marks and mapped out all the mirrors and video cameras, but guess who got to use the video cameras, zoom in and put them for display in fluorescent lighting? That’s right, the Smoothies. The coffee mugs of the setting. Those who have the spreadsheet pre-installed in their system. The arachno genesis that inherited all the information without ever having to learn them by experience.

You learn not to be stupid from idiots, then what’s there to save if you’re an idiot? Good luck with the invisible cape, hero. Everybody is gonna feed off of you and nobody will ever know you even existed.

'Do you know why books such as this are so important? Because they have quality. And what does the word quality mean? To me, it means texture. This book has pores. It has features. This book can go under the microscope. You'd find life under the glass streaming past in infinite profusion. The more pores, the more truthfully recorded details of life per square inch you can get on a sheet of paper, the more 'literary' you are. That's my definition, anyway. Telling detail. Fresh detail.

The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies.

So now do you see why books are hated and feared? They show the pores in the face of life. The comfortable people want only wax moon faces, poreless, hairless, expressionless. We are living in a time whe flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam. Even fireworks, for all their prettiness, come from the chemistry of the earth. Yet somehow we think we can grow, feeding on flowers and fireworks, without completing the cycle back to reality.'

Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury

But The Only Miracle Is That People Keep Believing.

Everything is gonna be alright.

What A Shame; To Judge A Life That You Can’t Change.

‘There’s a hard life for every silver spoon, there’s a touch of gray for every shade of blue, that’s the way that i see life; if there was nothing wrong then there’d be nothing right.

What a shame, what a shame, to judge a life that you can't change. The choir sings, the church bells ring, So, won't you give this man his wings? What a shame to have to beg you to see we're not all the same. What a shame. God forgive the hands that laid you down’

I did something very, very, very wrong.

Yes We Do, And It’s Horrible.

Me, Myself & The Kitchen.

SO..I was hungry at an unholy hour of night. And this usually doesn’t bid well, because it means i have to cook. And that, kids, is where the story begins. Drum roll, please.

Attempt #1: Toasted bread with butter and honey.

I found the corpse of an old bread loaf, the remains of what i then believed to be butter, and huge jars of honey that would feed a Cambodian family for a month. I got the loaf of bread, used the huge forceps  thingie to toast it into charred mummies which i was very proud of and put those aside. I then realized that the butter won’t melt or cut. So i heated a knife and tried to cut it, didn’t work, which made me get a tiny pan with running potatoes holding hands all over it, put in a piece of butter and tried to melt it. It still wouldn’t melt. It took about 10 minutes to turn into what you’d call an alien’s booger, used a fork to squish it into what you’d call alien throw-up and put that on top what remained of the bread. I proudly put some of the honey, managing not to spill more than a spoonful, got a pretty plate and settled myself in front of the TV thinking how awesome i am. Then i took the first bite. That was when i found out the butter was cheese. FML

Attempt #2: Boiled eggs:

Eggs scare me. No really. They do, i have bad history with eggs. No need to go into that now anywho. I got me a couple of eggs, one of which had a fine hairline crack which i then thought was harmless and later proved to be catastrophic enough to fit into ‘All My Sons’. I got a huge..uh..thingie. The one you use to boil milk, because i then figured the taller it is, the safer it will be. I filled it almost to the brim with water, tossed in the eggs and set the timer because i wasn’t inclined to burn down the house. Then i went out and, thank god, turned off the media player. A couple of minutes later, i heard a SPLOOOOOOOSHHH SSSSS. I ran to the kitchen thinking i’m in for a tsunami when i found that the fire was out, an egg exploded and made omelette on the brim of the thingie and the other was, well, nowhere to be found. I got everything back upright and kept my distance as i looked warily at it till it’s done. I later found the other egg, it had jumped somewhere into the onion basket, but unfortunately i couldn’t find its yolk. X-files, i got another case for you. They both looked and tasted like something out of ‘Alien VS. Predator’. I set the bread on fire trying to toast it.

I then lost hope, which led me to the last attempt, which was the most successful.

Attempt #3: Olives.

Of Revelations That I Shouldn’t Have At This Hour Of Night.

So as usual at this hour of night, i start thinking about stuff that have nothing and everything to do with anything, then it hit me. When i graduate from high school, the national certificate aka: Sanaweyya 3amma, i’ll be 20. Wow-ish huh? I got this mental image of my crawling out of the premises in a beard and a ragged habit. In case you were wondering, yes, i am a dude in my head. Then i had this other revelation of how, even if i was convicted of man slaughter, i wouldn’t get 20 years. What did children do that makes it imperative for adults to put them away for 20 years till they’re somehow suitable to strut amongst them? It’s odd. It feels..wrong somehow, i’ll be 20 when i’m finally out of school. My friend just turned 20, but he’s in the third year in college. That makes sense, a little. But 20? A 20-year-old high school graduate? Hm. I didn’t even flunk anything! It’s not my fault that i had a nutty nun in charge that thought it was in our best interest to be older than usual to make stuff easier! She just kept postponing the applications till we were old enough to realize that we could’ve applied elsewhere. I don’t wanna be 20 when i get out of school. I’ll get labelled monk in college or summat. Blah.