relevant symbol

i want a revolution. i want to be a hero. i want things to happen. i want there to be enough strife to infuse our global society with a sense of purpose and duty. something that could unify our interests but allow us to remain diverse in our approach as we take on our day to day. but i don't want human beings to be scarred. i don't want human beings to live through torturous pain. i want the emotional moments to stem from glory and triumph. i want all of us to be able to struggle through the deepest pits of despair and return to our comfortable beds. i want us to be able to return to capable physicians and senses of safety. but our existence will never be like these words. this dirty shit dream coming from a sheltered perspective. why not go to Angola and observe a parent watching their child die. that is so unreasonable, such a liberal thing to say. relativism, bleeding heart... piss mop. i know that the world will not be what i want it to be. i don't even have a complete or sound vision of a world. i just know that i dislike certain things and i like other things. and in my foolish cocoon i try to universalize and maximize to the point that i might be able to sketch a community. a community of social entities. my sheltered bullshit allows me to fool myself into thinking that i have a vision for the world that has meaning. my foolish bullshit allows me to believe that i can create meaning. i worry myself into oblivion as i think about the complete social incompetence of degenerates that i see on the street. i contemplate the infinite sadness of their reality, but it is not their reality, it is the shit that i project on to them and as i trick myself into thinking that my projection has something to do with objective reality i stress myself into irregular heart rhythms and weight loss. am i the idiot? surely. but i can only live as the idiot in these moments of quasi-enlightenment. wait until i have to do something, wait until i have to produce, wait until my efforts are focused. where will my dreams be when i give in to the urge to have children? what will happen to my crusade? will i drop onto the plane of stagnation and acceptance just like the rest of you shit-eating fucks? i will and i will be part of what i hate. more accurately i will be more immersed in the ranks of the trite life that i hate. i will be less of a hypocrite. i am not tired. i am not sad. i am baffled. the things that i want... lead to contradictions... and the visions that i have are clear until further inspection. try to keep it simple? fuck simple? i want to have a flaming ball of baggage as i travel from interaction to interaction affecting others as i may. i want you to hate my pretension. i want you to love my passion. i want you to recognize my bullshit and spit it in my face. flay me with your critique. there is no realm of safety. i am physically safe for now... but it is only a matter of time before i worry myself into a stroke. no one should be safe. no one should be allowed to drift in stagnation long enough to mind fuck themselves the way that i have. all these petty social dynamics. this isn't about the nature of existence. the nature of human existence is simple. there are possibilities and inclinations. within the realm of cognition we can run the gamut within the spectrum. a person can do anything that is possible for them... and we do what we do within our realm of possibilities. guided by our inclinations. choice is the issue. the origin of the inclinations. the differences between us. who has the character? who will avoid being the snivelling piece of shit that sours when they find out that their life is nothing? who will fight using their misguided passion and gain the respect that comes along with facilitating momentum? it seems that most human beings want to do something. we want to feel and succeed, maybe feel or succeed. everything can be a joke. i have chosen to make it serious. irrational choices and mistakes ride around with me on my shoulders. it isn't a game, i don't move on from my fuck ups. i plunge into the thick and ruminate. i try to present myself as a human being, the way i see the other human beings. but my shit is corrupted. i know that my dreams are hollow. my goals are unattainable. at best i will achieve something on the ladder. i will take steps toward a pathetic semblance of what i want. i will not allow that to crush me. but happiness? ways to please your spouse? carpet choices, maybe hardwood floors? of course those things are practical. of course i do not blame myself or anyone else for allowing those elements to penetrate their sphere of concern. it coincides with inclination. it is part of riding the momentum. images of lives. ways of being. the ability to understand it and the reticence to condemn it do not eliminate my urges. my urge to demolish our race. completely eradicate every human being aside from myself. to sit chuckling on a hillside over-looking the rubble. taking the time to assess myself right before i pull the pin out of the grenade taped to my chest. i would enjoy that chuckle because i do take this seriously. if i achieved the eradication of our species i would take pride. i would laugh at the absurdity of being the last vestige. i would be the last language wielder. i would be the last observer of detailed space and time. maybe others would develop. but i would be the last from our heritage. i would wallow in it and hate it. there would be no more potential for the beautiful bullshit. no more sheltered fucks drawing conclusions about the gritty world from their pristine pedestals. no more shared perspectives. no more listens to awe-inspiring musical compositions. no more tchaikovsy driven tears. no more brumel earthquakes. the world would become bland and practical again. there would be the consistency that only direct causality can breed. our splendid ambiguity would be gone. and i would be the last one to weep for it. it would be a sad and glorious moment. i would know that my dreams of a passionate species were dead. i would concede. but on that hillside... i would take time. i would look at my hands. take note of what it feels like to exist. the last of the idiot hypocrites. the last of the false innocents. the last of the fools with eyes averted. even when the pitch fork is raised it could be pointed in so many directions. only when it was in the faces of those related was it enough to inspire action. i would damn our intellect and praise existence for the potential. praise existence for the chance. realize the weight of ending humanity. doubt myself. wait. and pull the pin.



there is no way to enjoy the marvelous life of meaning. meaningful things... things that shake the core of humanity... are as painful as they are uplifting. the only way to truly appreciate the beauty without the endless suffering is to be at a certain distance. that distance requires the blandness that follows from safety. mindlessness. check in on your conversations some time. hide in the sensations. soak up the contact... the rewards. it is all so rich.

and when or if you choose to investigate the nature of what you experience and the nature of what you think... you may realize that it is more incredible than you ever imagined, and the process will continue after every new experience, good or evil, complete bullshit or as real as you want it. casual fuck or child birth. dress up the occasion... and prepare to hate yourself for your inconsistencies.





piss on my grave.