I would do anything to stab my personal roots in the face All that stupidity and misery. I need to work this resentment into work ethic. That way I will have more excuses to be away. I will be happy to never visit that house in Gramado. The house is the sanctuary for all the themes that I wish to depose myself of.

One way to depose of that would be to not go home anymore. This would be nice: no place in which to go on vacation; no rest from my quest. No utterly mundane and personal disagreements. Making my own money, it would cut the need for it. But then again, thank for letting me get to this point. For that I love you. With a love that seeks to supercede.

Into a sanctuary.

Truly a sanctuary.

My sanctuary.

Our sanctuary.

OMG I need to get into graduate school.

I get to spend those sun-washed evenings in the bed of another person. Regardless of the cold, I lay and feel myself at perfect ease. My vision obscured by the tangled threads of another’s hair, greasy. In the midst of an Other’s wardrobe; the techniques they dawn when faced with a scruple. I awake and feel no need to arise. Perfectly at ease in this stranger’s light. A light that I enjoy at least semi-vicariously. Children hollering outside the window, the cigarette smoke curling up around the windowsill; a stillness that is felt only in-between periods when things matter. It is a glorious inconsequentiality, borne out of temporality. Felt briefly and intensely: a holiday.

I forget the day of the week. Time rears it’s ugly head only when I am asked to account for my plans. Thankfully, this is only retroactive, and rarely does an appointment have more to do than potential, rather than pretence. Lithely, I stay awake into the still early hours of the day. There are few prices to pay. Time spent sleeping and awake are one and the same. Dreams invade daylight; there is no price to pay.

I awake in a friend’s bedroom; there is nothing to do other than appease a hungry stomach. We arise and finish our first meal by the time the sun sets. The only other thing to do is have a meal with other people. Condemnations run rife throughout; each of us benignly displaying each other’s learning’s from the past months. Innocuous. I try and make a point, and regardless of how firmly I make it I realize that this is all but leisure. A vivid, and well-deserved, leisure that is bought with work. Words trickle and intertwine. A glorious and elegant fact is created. Perfect through its paltry importance.

I feel a shift in momentum occur. I see myself reflected in my works and simultaneously see myself changing my attitudes in that reflection. I behave haphazardly whilst enjoying the pleasures that I craved a few weeks ago. I have too much wine and finally can exploit my unknown presence; I make enemies with the artists and befriend the musicians. I play up polyrhythms. I exist in an otherwise tenuous space.

A smile curls up around my lips; for such overpowering beauty is, thankfully, temporary. Borne out of temporality; a strange nether region, dank with myth and mythos. Moonlight casts hard shadows. My dreams run in and throughout the day. Winter solstice; when night runs the longest.

Oh boy was I disappointed. On the first day of class I showed up and eagerly exchanged some hellos with people that I have not seen in a little while. Scanning the room, I saw the potential for a good 10 weeks. The room was one of my favorites, the ones in Stuwart that have those incredibly comfortable chairs that are detached from the desk and roll. Throbbing with anticipation, I finally see Forster walk into the room. With an air of completely nonchalance he reaches into his bag for a couple of papers. “Okay, lets get started”. The voice could not be more monotonic even if he tried. It was crushing. “It’s just him getting warmed up, in a couple of minutes he is gonna be droppin some ill fucking phil-verse and its gonna be ill”. No. It wasn’t.

For about 3 weeks I got my ass out of bed at 8 in the morning to go see Forster pace the room and read from the essays that he wrote for the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. I would listen, trying to make the best out of the class, but Forster’s lurch of a pace made this impossible. My attention would drift in total abandon from my hands, to the way Forster’s head was placed on his shoulders (much like statuary) to the person who was shopping for shoes on her computer. I would force myself to listen and catch the trailing bits of a conclusion that was mad. “Oh fuck. I just missed what he was saying. This would be enjoyable if I just paid the fuck attention”. I would tune in and find that he was making some qualification to what he was going to say. He’s gonna make a point! This point is going to be epic! He’s about to make a point. Holy crap make the point already. I’ve been listening for a full fucking 15 seconds and you havn’t said anything about anything yet. Are you doing this on purpose!? How is this possible? Am I going crazy?

Time spent this way is not healthy. One finds themselves staring into the room trying to acknowledge everything at once just because there is nothing else to do. Your vision becomes fuzzy and even the thought of what you are going to do when you leave becomes boring. I spent 22 hours in a holding cell in NYC jail once and that was the only time that I felt more pure desperation from sitting in a room.

Needless to say I didn’t go to this class after I realized that the essays I would have to write can be limited to the material presented in the first two weeks.

Of course, it is unjust to lambaste Forster this much. Although his lecture will stand out in my memory as a shining example of why I love music as much as I do, he is the necessary asshole in the philosophy department that just takes everything slow and methodologically. I completely understand how he has been as successful as he has.

WOAH! Too soon for the product, but not for you!

WRONG. The death of the self is the death of a nexus, the removal of a point from which a boundary is created between internal and external. Wanting to retain the junction of the spiritual endeavor is merely the want to retain spirituality as spirituality distinct from other motivations. Get rid of this thought and learn to not stare a gift-horse in the mouth.

This picture perfectly demonstrates what was going on in this first paragraph.

Yet, the internet should be a place of refuge for all this self-obsession. Right? Being able to present a calculated face to the world with the perfect profile pic, the right apps and the correct favorite movies, music and interests should make this all much easier that it was in the past. Now that people spend more time talking online than they do in person, all the variability (vulnerability) that comes with body-language and skin should be reduced and surpassed. Right?

WRONG! The internet also gives people a place to display their own little bits of self-consciousness and to create markets around them. Gentlemen, BEHOLD! Anal bleaching. A hydroquinone cream can be placed on that anus of yours to get rid of that unsightly discoloration. Next time you’re using the back door under Kleig light you can feel sure that your pucker is the picture of normativity. The best part about this is that it most certainly has origins in the white supremacist movement. Finally, if John Mayer’s dick can be one, so can my anus!

But don’t think that the front door is not getting a makeover too! My New Pink Button is the latest in dyes for you labia. Think about it as blush for your muff. Just apply a snidge before that hot date and your pussy will be screaming “Fuck me!” like it wasn’t motivated by by years of oppressive shame, guilt and jealousy that only make you want to fuck because it is the only way that you can achieve a semblance of human contact in the concrete bunker that you decided to call a home because it was so modernist.

Now, if you thought that women were having all the fun here, there is a way for men to get in on the neuroses too. Now, men historically shouldn’t care about their appearance as much as women, but the advertising industry is working hard towards defining masculinity. Once that hump is overcome men will also have the opportunity to glaze their glans, put extra wrinkles into their nutsack and finally even out that problem where one ball hangs lower than the other.

However, if you want to start building the foundations for schizophrenia now, you can always purchase a sex-doll with a reloadable hymen complete with with fake blood. Oops, did I say sex doll? I meant sex torso.

Act now and you can have your own category in the DSM-V.

9 out of 10 Doctors agree: abusing communications technology now heightens

your chances of qualifying for prescription psychotropic medication in the future!

Ever wonder where the word “mammal” comes from. Mammary. We have named an entire genus of species on the basis of tit sucking. Now, if one wants to go so far as to lay an argument down for why all of the natural sciences are established on the basis of oral fixation then be my guest. Personally, I think it has more to do with anal retention.

In regards to this, I find it extraordinary that one of the last bastions of taboo that we have as a society is in the proper disposal of our feces. You can leave your entire house smelling of funk and weed, but god forbid there is a floater in the bathroom. Those new automatic toilets that are the standard of any workplace embody this perfectly. It is so important that you flush that infrared technology has been employed to automatize the process. This is spectacular  because the technology that has evolved to make it so that you can take a shit inside a building and then push or pull one lever to get rid of it has not been deemed sufficient. I take the trash out by hand, but an elaborate technology has evolved to make my turd-children disappear as if by magic. Not even this is sufficient for our purposes. We have developed toilets capable of rocketing your bowels into the netherworld with a rush of water and air that can only be described as a spectacle. The noise and violence is almost like a punishment imposed onto the shitter. It is as thought society is saying that this deed of yours is so horrid, putrid and offensive that we are going to condition you to not do it anymore. The airplane bathroom is the absolute pinnacle of this accomplishment. The act of flushing is so loud, jarring and unpleasant that most people will press the flush button only after reaching for the door.

Whenever I have my little catharsis on the plants and animals that I have metabolized I like to look back and see the endpoint of the cycle that I have participated in. It feels like a little part of me. It is not as though I grab my dick and work one out to it, it is just a small act of meditation. However, I was in front of a modern toilet. Without the least warning a typhoon of water, sound and violence sucked my appendage into the abyss with such force that it was bent lengthwise in order to be forced into the hole. I was quite literally shocked to see how far the powers that be managed to intrude into a moment that I was having.

Luddites will tell you that mass internet communication will be the death of free-thinking. The death has already occurred, what we feel now is the inability to mourn the corpse that has been left behind.

allow the dense taste to penetrate the tongue

the earthy taste of apes with hair on their back

exploiting friction to it’s logical end

rolling in their own dirt

the primeval roar of (dis)satisfaction

FUCK

Hints of desperation

the last resource to those surrounded by words

but with nothing to say

overtones of rejection

with the slightest pinch of pride

Complex by it’s simplicity

Simple in it’s complexity

All together now

A first furious framing of fornicative freedom

unbridled, unleashed, ultra-umbilical utterance

complete, compact conception of chaos

kerplunk kinetic knock-out

lose yourself in the collective ululation

I) The world exists in-and-of itself. By “exist” I mean the state of affairs that the earth and the universe would continue in regardless of the presence of humans. A word for this is noumenon – an object as it is in itself independent of the mind.

1)    I have often heard of the distinction between the realms of the visible and invisible. Noumena are the strictly visible things that must first exist in order for us to perceive them.

2)    This essential quality of the external world, it’s sole ability for it to be there in order for us to perceive it, is more basic than any quality of being.

II) This simple existence of the world is obscured by the extraordinary human capacity to impose meaning onto an object.

1)    A noumenon ceases to be a noumenon when it becomes the object of human contemplation.

a)     For this reason, a true noumenon is unknowable to humans*.

2)    A bar of gold plainly exists, yet any value that we confer onto it is a product of human intellect. A basic intellect, such as that of a dog, has the power to develop an understanding of the world that best enables it to survive in it’s environment. Pavlov’s experiments with dogs show us that dogs are able to plainly associate the ringing of a bell with food. What originally was to the dog a neutral object became cause for excitement. In the same way, our sensorial and intellectual capacities become charged with meaning to the philosopher.

a)     The “fly bottle” that Wittgenstein mentions is exactly this. The philosopher has become obsessed with deducing the origins of meaning, yet the obsession itself is what produces the meaning that is being analyzed. Much like a dog chasing it’s own tail.

b)    Unless one comes to know this essential nature of our pursuit of knowledge, then the game shall continue on.

1. i.     This does not lead necessarily to nihilism. A nihilistic conclusion is but an extremely well argued depression.

3)    The entirety of our mental universe, all that causes sadness and happiness, is a product of an association that we placed onto the world.

a)     Each day thousands of people die in the world. I do not feel at all sad for their deaths, for they all can be counted as “natural”. Yet once any of my acquaintances has a brush with death, my heart skips a beat.

III) Our propensity to overcomplicate reality by imposing onto it conditions which are subjective leads us to ask questions that have no observable scientific difference in objective reality.

1)    Let me clarify the difference between subjective and objective. No one will contest that if I place two bricks on a table that there are two entities present. The way in which one understands those entities (as actual bricks or illusions of bricks) is inconsequential and a dispute of language. The objectivity is in the presence of the two bricks, the subjectivity is in regarding that state of affairs as “there being two bricks”. I can refer to the two bricks instead as “there are four minus two rectangular rocks occupying this three-dimensional space”, yet the two declarations are one and the same.

a) The question of whether god exists follows these lines. If god existed or not, telephones would still work the same, the earth would still rotate on its axis, nature would continue on.

2) This does not mean that different answers to these questions will result in different actions performed by humans. However, the resultant actions of these answers have no bearing on the validity of the answers.

a) the truthful answer is not always the most pleasing answer.

3) The great conquest of science was to devise a method where all subjectivity is removed from the perception of the world.

b) for this reason, Philosophy does not constitute a science yet still  abides by some of it’s rules.

IV) Philosophical questions that would not have observable differences in nature follow this pattern of subjective questioning and therefore do not have definitive answers.

1)    The way in which one grounds their mental universe into the physical one is up to the individual to decide.

Big, luscious, falsifiable, titties!