Her lips sigh at the computer screen. Strange…
I see that she can no longer battle against the lingering murmur and glow of the florescent lights. “The project, it’s almost due” she thinks, as anxiety churns her stomach. The sensation breaks her concentration as she looks to me with intriguing eyes. I make eye contact, which brings me to question my actions. ”What am I doing? Where did this feeling come from?”, I say. My hands remain suspended in mid-air as she projects a look of discontent on me.
I like her stare.
I was previously thinking that our range of sight is shaped like an imax screen. We are forever looking through these shapes like warped boxes inside more warped boxes. Electric bugs buzz in and out of existence on my pixelated computer screen.
My trail of thought and action is diminished by a senior, but scared woman, beginning to raise her voice at these girls who have been exposed to far too much superficial nature in this life. Like elite drug takers in a hedonist utopia. Ritualistically painting faces on every pure morning. Seemingly afraid to love nature. Destroyers of the natural world. She is craving playfulness. I see Sigmund Freud in the window stroking his beard and tickling himself with an ink feather. He passes through the window from outside and writes “what have we become?” on the forehead of the druggie blonde.
After perceiving Freud my own conditioning becomes observable. I imagine she suffers from an oral fixation, which creates this nightmarish personality who is always at-ese to her childhood over-nourishment. Her sick and perverted reality intrigues me, but I stop myself.
Again I peer over to the anxious girl, as the druggie blonde runs behind me. Freud’s ghost follows her up the designer wooden staircase.
Later, I peer out the window and she’s falling from the building down, down, down to the solid ground of reality. Seven floors to heaven from La Place–a restaurant on top of the library where she was confronted by the ghost of Freud. He manipulated her to seek a more pleasurable and everlasting space.
She ascended from the mangled frame as a figure free to embrace Freud’s conscience. Observable only to the writer and the gulls from Freud’s window, I was the only witness to this selfless murder. A romantic end to a meaningless life. My mind began to consider a potential display of this romance.
From beating hands on furniture, non-sense from mouths, clicking noises, and a perfect operatic melody that sounded from the corpse and drew harmony on the cries of her accomplices, I slayed this perception across the mind of the anxious one, who first caught me in the act.
Drawn between the two: Idealism and Realism
Pain. Life is the constant submission to pain. One idealist side is pulling the other realist side. A dualistic Dove and Devil defending itself by deluding death-like decedents of humanity.
This dualism is the cradle of power. The ‘God’ of power. The great creator and designer of the human conscience. Here you will find the subjective conflict of craving and aversion. Murders and Lawyers. The choice of power or fame. Or why not both? Both reality and idealistic theory share the positive or negative social connotation once the ’subject’ has reacted through the manifestation of theoretical expectations–’good’ or ‘bad’, which in itself has little meaning but to buffer the effect of power consolidation.
It is the worlds addiction to craving and aversion–the craving for a more individual or ‘positive’ reality, and an aversion to a battle between ‘negative’ stagnating reality and their idealistic preference. Where is my dove of salvation? Or the simple resolution to an oppressed space? Conscience is reserved for reality, idealism is reserved for dreams of freedom and self-preference.
This dualism is symbolic of the wisdom in the eastern philosophy of non-absolution and impermanence. Nature is continuously changing at such a high frequency that humans, even with our five sensory systems, are oblivious to these changes in relativity. Humans suffer because of this. It is the clash of human nature and nature itself. Who will overcome the other? Humanity are the ‘underdogs’ who have created communication and technology to overcome their struggles of survival against the ultimate creator. First the contemporary God and then mother Earth.
When the concept of impermanence manifests itself in reality we seem shocked. But why? It’s because we idealize the world to be a certain that way, and when an unforeseen tragedy manifests itself all hell breaks loose and people begin to release stress emotionally to resolve the pain. Images are shown all around the world so we can contemplate the ‘real’ reality of our situation on this planet.
We must utilize our emotional intelligence to rightfully understand that we can change now. Not continue to be destroyers while straightening our defenses through creating new technology to out-wait the inevitable. The solution to unhappiness is getting use to pain. Don’t let the unfamiliar or the absurd frighten you. Expose your mental and physical self to every thought and sensation that exists whereby we can forever be explorers in the changing universe, as we are inevitably an example of the makeup of the universe. Our concept of rational understanding, or reality is so limited, and idealism must be grounded in what is necessary for ‘x’. After all the meaning of life is equivocal.
Compulsive Self-Awareness and Self-Deprecation
Absurdity?: By Jordan Reilly Stock
Does compulsive self-awareness lead to self-deprecation?
This is not about the conflict of self-growth and self-acceptance because one is always growing and making a subtler mind. It is purely about the tension that is created when one is overly objective about the conscious mind.
Has then judgment become a greater mechanism of this state of mind? Does ethics then come into play, which arguably, do not exist when everything boils down to human survivalist behavior. Is happiness more to do with interacting with life on an experiential level, rather than observing without this instinctive action? Whereby instinctive behaviour would be free to develop into an individual reality. These questions of whether this is good or bad have no real significance, as you are engaging in your self-emotional reality.
How does this then affect happiness when one is always impersonal and objective to their emotions? Emotions being the reaction of the subjective mind. Emotions may be deprived of balance when one is compulsively self-aware. How can one believe in the self’s existence and the importance of its well being, while having a disconnected emotional relationship with the mind and material universe. Answers about the unknown cannot just be discovered by objective awareness. One must discover their existential reality from the relationship with mind and material universe.
The answers to the mystery of life are found in absolute subtlety through the relationship of mind and body. If you want to find answers then you must strengthen your sensorial mechanics and awaken “unconscious” knowledge. In other words subjectively become aware of your ‘unconscious’ as you fall through the layers of subtlety.
In silence all answers can be found. Subjective silence of the mind will help control the conditioned cognitive commentary of the objective mind. Silence can be defined by the ‘complete absence of sound’, or in a more cognitive perspective, ‘complete absence of activity.’ In other words, death. But wait, the function of bodily organs work instinctively in the contemporary ‘unconscious’ mind, however it should be defined as the more conscious mind, as someone who reaches true awareness of self will be fully “enlightened” as it will discover the subtle framework of universal nature within your body and the universe itself, rather than observing the confusion of the incompetent contemporarily defined conscience. The replication of misery will therefore continue under the objectively “aware” mind.
I have decided to make a new more appropriate blog title as I am not really traveling anymore, but rather living in a place where I am open to new subjective experiences.
Last night just as I was falling asleep in the early hours of the morning I thought of a poem and a new blog title.
Writings On Subjectivity:
Feel these sensations of heat resonate off your body, vibrating into space like a body doused in vinegar evaporating all energy upwards.
All is feeling and preconceived.
Psychology is the study of human beings progressive preconceived cognitive and behavioural nature.
You can’t go wrong. All is right in a genuinely emotional perspective, where events are occurring and you are reacting to them. Live that reaction. Be the real subject you were meant to be.
Do not hesitate when embracing intuitive knowledge or ability. By avoiding it you will only create more misery and confusion.
Focus on your will.
Feel existence rub against your skin and stop playing games with yourself!
Is it the conflict of godlessness and ego which makes my identity crisis?
All is blank. When something appears it is quietly repressed by substance abuse. The sensible voice inside my head appears from time to time. Especially before I go to sleep. I wonder why it is that way? The mind gets tired of living in its altered state of perception and falls back on more familiar grounds. I am now aware that something is wrong. My thinking and structure of mind has indeed changed. Not for the good or bad but it is stagnating it seems.
It is a continual struggle as the observer and the subject. Somewhat of an insane process when the student is the professor lost within his assumption of life as an unknown understanding. Must there then be an overhaul or a period of intense mental stimulation to get me observing again. For now I am an experiment.
The non-focusing of eyes is still a common day to day activity. This physical behaviour is a nice manifestation of my current mental state. In a state of numbness and I am living the blank. Things are happening but I am not aware. Changes are occurring within my-body and outside my-body which are ultimately having a profound influence on me. However, I remain unaware and I imagine that this personal experience will continue. My world is moving but I would love for it to just stop! Everything. So that I can just have a nice deep sleep where all of this mental strain can release itself. But while I can not live the impossibility I can let the real possibilities in life bring me back to it.
There’s the black path that I am walking on. Everything in my eyes are seen at such a high contrast but I can still notice the black path. I am moving on it. Things are just pushing me because I am a human. I too am an instigator of manipulation. I am human.
The ego: being the manipulator. What a challenging life we live being endowed with this conscience. How hard it all becomes when you marginalize your belief in the existence good and bad. Your ego beings to scream. Your will to manipulate battles with your incompetence as a human being. Your blinded or altered eyes multiply your suffering because you closely watch the glorified select few who are unaware of your potential to lead. If only I could leave this black space. What a dark place I have come to love.
Wisdom’s lonely voice speaks of impermanence.
These ports of anger are a zoo for advertising and elitist experiments. I can’t but feel angry and I want some attention. What is this? 70 Baht for a 350mL bottle of water. I don’t care about giving away money..! OK yes, I care, but shit 200-400% price increase to be in a zoo for 5 hours.
The consumer life is like a smashed hot fluorescent light. Painful, poison, parched and ever so fucking pretty with their wastefulness. Only enjoy yourself if you feel pleasure from looking more powerful and superficial than the next. I never thought people bought these things in these airports until I saw a women with a hand bag over her shoulder looking in the mirror. Maybe I choose to not accept this picture out of fear of being ashamed at ourselves and what we are becoming.
Consumer culture has used the concept of the ‘airport’ to push their dominant ideology. A succubus ideology which is raping true individualism and filling our heads with 2nd hand goop information serving no purpose but to blind and create ignorance. Even Mr Individual, I, is a product of this product producing world. How can I continue to fight without becoming a victim to its beauty?
Tomorrow I embark a plane to Amsterdam to further involve myself in the arts politically and musically. This is purely throwing myself in the deeper end of things, where I actually feel most comforable and alive. Lets create a reality. How to define sucess? Why bother. Let this experience be the definition of quality. No success, no failure. Trust your reaction in every way. Or become a blob of self-destruction.
I am throwing up these disconnected lines in my mind now that I have greater purpose and understanding. The potential to develop in myself the art of performance and expression is releasing itself from the shackles of aversion.
Tonight in Saigon was a strong moment for me where I began to give back some of myself. I played a few songs at an art cafe in the city. The audience was full of travelers, musicians and Vietnamese, who took us in as their own. Together we shared each other, each listening, each willingly to paint a part of the greater picture.
I let this life is take me for a ride. I will help and trust it. Mistrusting life is a conflict of interest. You want to see where it takes you, yet you are vulnerable to it, and at times control is not a relevant concept.
Now again when my eyes are shut pictures and lyrics pass through my sensors. This state of mind is impermanent which helps me to carry on through the mundane grind where such colours become blind to me.
For the world is a piece of art,
There are many painters,
I too am a painter,
Therefore I will work my brush,
As the way to power,
Is your will to paint.
The Owl is a dark ball in the backdrop of night.
No it does not cry.
But it hoots to the Possum who has established his life on a powerline.
Here it comes for me. The car roaring from the depths of evil. Destined to take my vulnerable limbs. Destined to put me further in a life of misery and beauty. Can I still write? If not, I can continue to dream? If not, I can finally die. Must our dreams continue to paint such beauty so effortlessly? The car just passed me by.
I wish to declare our friendship. So we can share more with each other through joy, honesty, and disagreement. Two friends sharing the experience of what it is to live. Duration of ones life does not simply reflect wisdom but rather there perception of life and self-reality. Wisdom is discovered through self reality and understood by letting go of that reality. Like wisdom, friendship is the deception of connectivity that can be brought about by letting go of all which you had held in such importance. Whether it be status, wealth, and children or for myself hopelessness, self-hypocrisy, and seriousness. For I love you and I hope that who we are and what we will seemingly become should be defined through the true essence of purity. For purity is nothingness. A life can only be lived and never planned nor can it fit into any concept of what is most desirable. You are a bright star, continue to burn until your spirit is overcome and vanishes.
The sound of bullets puncture and crush the lives of ourselves. We are more than brothers and sisters. We are all the same.
War has again ravaged the lives of the innocent. These false mentalities which we all hold in place. They are not human nature. We have created these concepts and they are manifest throughout history and our present day.
Our parasitic orthodox perceptions are driven by our manipulated understanding of survival. The truth is manifest in history only because we are kept in this perverted abis of darkness. No human can see in the dark. Who may I ask is leading us to accept such tragedy? Should we act with the same level of barbarism? Should we continue to make people suffer for our own indirect feelings of pleasure? Must we continue to be defined by a race which is selfdecaying?
Take personal responsibility for the decisions you make and the following consequences. People must not hide and congregate in spastic groups. Set yourself free from all reality. Do what you want. But others will always be watching even the ones watching will be watched.
This collective being which has been blessed with telepathy long before it could speak is only now making sense of things using language. However so many other tangible and ideological beliefs have yet to be discovered within the communication of telepathy.
Let us discover. Let us venture in new ways of dreaming to uncover understanding which is floating amongst space. Very likely our answers are false. There are never answers for those who belong to the creator. One must dream to initiate the conquest of the cosmos. A rocket or telescope displays only what the eyes can see.
Imagine and dream.
I left on the bus this morning. No I actually walked to the grocery store to buy some food in the early morning. An unfamiliar feeling was haunting me. It was positive.
I listened to music. Music that most would not care to listen too that early in the morning but it was one of those special mornings. The mornings when I wake up to the adventure of my own solitude. Walking to town on an overcast day, no shoes, no heat, just pursing a partial destiny and not even knowing what to focus my attention on. So I gazed.
The streets were baron as all shops were closed. So I waited.
After the shops I was sitting on the bench waiting for the late bus. It was an enjoyable moment with cigarette in hand, Nietzsche in hand, ipod in ear, but appreciation was dissolved by distraction.
A dark man, some would call spooky, simply touched my umbrella in my backpack as it precariously lay on the bench and side walk. I looked at the man, smiled, and replied to his action with a soft “hi”. He was somewhat startled as I disrupted his world.
“Your not from here are you a foreigner?” he asked, due to the lack of my Australian accent. I replied, “I am Australian” and his reaction was expressed oddly. He rebutted, “Right, Well I am the real Australian. 1st generation bratha!” “I am aware of that” I said while smiling back to him. We introduced ourselves before he told me to stand up to give him a hug. It was the best hug I have ever experienced. Time was irrelevant. It was pure. He said, “Bratha I wish you and your family all the best.” Shortly after we dis-embraced his friend brought him a pack of Victoria Bitter to drink away his sorrow. He is a lover. Am I a creator?
I look inside the pages of my book to see whatever it is that I am meant to see. One people have conquered another people and the pain is acute in some and not in others. Sympathy from society is merely a social reaction from their oppression.
Nietzsche writes On The Way Of The Creator,
“Alas, there is so much lusting for the heights! There are so many convulsions of the ambitious. Show me that you are not one of the lustful and ambitious.
Alas, there are so many great thoughts which do no more than a bellows: they puff up and make emptier.
You call yourself free? Your dormant thought I want to hear, and not that you have escaped from a yoke. Are you one of those who had the right to escape from a yoke? There are some who threw away their last value when then threw away their servitude. Free from what? As if that mattered the Zarathustra! But your eyes should tell me brightly: free for what?”
That text resonated through my experience with the real Australian.
I caught the bus home an rethought about colonial oppression, the lover and the creator.
I need to escape from my head but it is not that easy. No wonder why I’m confused. My head is a complex electrical circuit and the pathways are deteriorating from self-expectation.
When I open my eyes my head hurts, I pause for a moment to try and think less or from my heart. The feeling decays into alternation creating a negative connotation. In that moment of feeling a leaf drops on my communicator. Today the gray ski blows a steady stagnation past your bench. All eyes are drooping lowly: the nothingness has become familiar and restricted.
I think to better myself. I came to Australia to better my self and direction. Indeed I have done that with support academically and socially. But there is a gaping hole in my self. I’m am learning, breathing, growing, and now I am left with complete dissatisfaction. My heart is not with me. When it is, it is only there for a moment and I can not live through it. To tell you the truth I am very afraid to stop using logic in the prediction that I will stop growing. But the contradiction is there and I am aware, but it is the fear that stops me.
I sense my father within me when I am in Australia. When we see each other our twisted logic collides into some sort of murky energy. This energy is not influential as it does pass.
Not like a friend who I will have to the end, has shown me his way, one which is truly influential. But it is his way. I will have my own, and I will continue to grow even when my material is compressed into stone.
There is a skill to be comfortable in yourself whereby you can treat yourself with the up most respect and love.
An individual I must continue to be. A balance of love and logic.