i feel like i'm taking crazy pills

- April 17 -

when i say ‘bliss’….

- March 7 -

The infinite is within and without. To see infinity not just as that which is beyond, without end, ever expansive, but also as that which is infinitely divisible; Not only infinite outsideness but simultaneous and brilliantly reciprocal, infinite inwardness. And to see that infinite potentiality as, itself, a type of entity, characterized by magnificent emptiness, capable of merging with the directionality of your ultimately infinite consciousness. To know that there is no need to look at the world outside of us to meet the infinite. Look no further than your own very being; your flesh, your brain, your fingernail, your blood, your bones, your cells and each of their respective, mutually and infinitely divisible parts. But, arm, face, muscle and synapses are fancy words. And the boundaries of nomenclature that distinguish them as separate parts and you as separate are ultimately arbitrary and artificially so. To know that this infinite is ultimately outside of the reaches of cognitive coherence, not to be logically comprehended but realized through a merging with it, through an allowance. Not to be understood, but felt, experienced; the way you feel your own being in such a way that you can’t help but to feel it when I tell you not to. Not to waste your time trying to conceive of the inconceivable but to allow the containing structure of the logos to ecstatically collapse! Explode! And take heed to that which is beyond and incapable of containment. To that which is so inconceivably divisible that there exists no container large enough, small enough or hermetic enough to contain its unimaginable emptiness. And in order to get to the destination, YOU can never get to the destination. In the process, YOU must die. Death by explosion. Exploding within and without, into and out to infinity. And it’s true that I, in all of my beautifully miserable naiveté as the persistent thought container that I am, fear sometimes that I might explode. But my ultimately infinite nature has seen some things and so it ruthlessly and graciously propels me further out into explosion every fucking moment and all at once. It is this that I mean by bliss.

when i say ‘bliss’….

The infinite is within and without. To see infinity not just as that which is beyond, without end, ever expansive, but also as that which is infinitely divisible; Not only infinite outsideness but simultaneous and brilliantly reciprocal, infinite inwardness. And to see that infinite potentiality as, itself, a type of entity, characterized by magnificent emptiness, capable of merging with the directionality of your ultimately infinite consciousness. To know that there is no need to look at the world outside of us to meet the infinite. Look no further than your own very being; your flesh, your brain, your fingernail, your blood, your bones, your cells and each of their respective, mutually and infinitely divisible parts. But, arm, face, muscle and synapses are fancy words. And the boundaries of nomenclature that distinguish them as separate parts and you as separate are ultimately arbitrary and artificially so. To know that this infinite is ultimately outside of the reaches of cognitive coherence, not to be logically comprehended but realized through a merging with it, through an allowance. Not to be understood, but felt, experienced; the way you feel your own being in such a way that you can’t help but to feel it when I tell you not to. Not to waste your time trying to conceive of the inconceivable but to allow the containing structure of the logos to ecstatically collapse! Explode! And take heed to that which is beyond and incapable of containment. To that which is so inconceivably divisible that there exists no container large enough, small enough or hermetic enough to contain its unimaginable emptiness. And in order to get to the destination, YOU can never get to the destination. In the process, YOU must die. Death by explosion. Exploding within and without, into and out to infinity. And it’s true that I, in all of my beautifully miserable naiveté as the persistent thought container that I am, fear sometimes that I might explode. But my ultimately infinite nature has seen some things and so it ruthlessly and graciously propels me further out into explosion every fucking moment and all at once. It is this that I mean by bliss.

when i say ‘bliss’….

The infinite is within and without. To see infinity not just as that which is beyond, without end, ever expansive, but also as that which is infinitely divisible; Not only infinite outsideness but simultaneous and brilliantly reciprocal, infinite inwardness. And to see that infinite potentiality as, itself, a type of entity, characterized by magnificent emptiness, capable of merging with the directionality of your ultimately infinite consciousness. To know that there is no need to look at the world outside of us to meet the infinite. Look no further than your own very being; your flesh, your brain, your fingernail, your blood, your bones, your cells and each of their respective, mutually and infinitely divisible parts. But, arm, face, muscle and synapses are fancy words. And the boundaries of nomenclature that distinguish them as separate parts and you as separate are ultimately arbitrary and artificially so. To know that this infinite is ultimately outside of the reaches of cognitive coherence, not to be logically comprehended but realized through a merging with it, through an allowance. Not to be understood, but felt, experienced; the way you feel your own being in such a way that you can’t help but to feel it when I tell you not to. Not to waste your time trying to conceive of the inconceivable but to allow the containing structure of the logos to ecstatically collapse! Explode! And take heed to that which is beyond and incapable of containment. To that which is so inconceivably divisible that there exists no container large enough, small enough or hermetic enough to contain its unimaginable emptiness. And in order to get to the destination, YOU can never get to the destination. In the process, YOU must die. Death by explosion. Exploding within and without, into and out to infinity. And it’s true that I, in all of my beautifully miserable naiveté as the persistent thought container that I am, fear sometimes that I might explode. But my ultimately infinite nature has seen some things and so it ruthlessly and graciously propels me further out into explosion every fucking moment and all at once. It is this that I mean by bliss.

- July 28 -

i wish you wouldn’t do that

- July 14 -

Last I checked it was 2011 and the SARS pandemic of 2003 had long since passed, so unless you are blatantly asian or I see some headline soon about a Swine Flu resurgence on the front page of one of these people’s newspapers, I want you to know that your surgical mask is doing little more than just grossing me the fuck out. Sure, you’re probably just afraid of germs or have some kind of apocalypse paranoia or are trying to be cool or something, but I’m going to be honest with you, Monk- I will almost always assume the opposite circumstance- that you’ve got a really bizarre strain of some creepy ass disease and have been required by law to wear that thing so as not to spread your kiss of death to the public. And if your reason for wearing that mask does happen to be your obsessive compulsive disorder… well then you can rest assured knowing that that mask of yours is doubly, triply effective because there is no way I am coming anywhere within a 5 foot radius of some human stranger sporting a surgical mask on the blue line.

What really bums me out about your creepy mask is that now you’ve gone and ruined it for me. Because now I can’t help but be ultra aware of what a disease pool this train really is and oh my god I can’t believe I’m stuck wearing this stupid fucking skirt oh sick I can feel my bare skin slowly brining upon the infested surface of this itchy seat.

Who the hell thought it was a good idea to put fabric on those seats anyways?????

- July 11 -

your proud shower is ruining my day

Don’t you dare rub your clean hair in my fucking face.

When we’re all hanging around, still in the clothes we wore out last night, being perfectly lazy and useless, and you leave the room only to come back 15 minutes later, freshly showered and ready to conquer the west… I want you to know that I think you are the worst and that you have just ruined everyone’s day. I see how proud you feel to debut your clean to a room full of your still greasy-haired friends. Who do you think you are walking back into this room of us scumbags like that? I can smell your Herbal Essences from here. And now I feel like I’ve got to get in the shower. And I can feel everyone else feeling pressured to do the same. This sucks. You totally ruined it! You, with your fresh energy! Oh you’ve really got your shit together don’t you, proud showerer? You’ve really got it all figured out, huh? I bet you’ve never been late on a single Blockbuster rental return in your life, have you? 

And you think you’re gonna just waltz back in here and still be one of us? No way, man! Get out of here! Consider yourself exiled from the group the moment you step foot into that shower.

And you know what? I probably would have gone out again tonight. I was planning on showering, myself… in just a couple of hours. We could have conquered the west together… all of us. The whole gang! But, you know what? Fuck it! You had to go and jump the gun and now I’m feeling mad at you and sorry for myself or something. Too soon, proud showerer! You blew it! I  hope you really are proud.

VR, GV

servants are such enablers

- June 11 -

…enabling you to look stupid and get things wrong. GV

- June 8 -

concerning the vast awakenerhood…

- June 7 -

I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. It said that Nothing Ever Happened, so don’t worry. It’s all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don’t know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever. Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds  long ago and not even at all. It is all one vast awakened thing. I call it the golden eternity. It is perfect. We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It’s a dream already ended. There’s nothing to be afraid of and nothing to be glad about. I know this from staring at mountains months on end. They never show any expression, they are like empty space. Do you think the emptiness of space will ever crumble away? Mountains will crumble, but the emptiness of space, which is the one universal essence of mind, the vast awakenerhood, empty and awake, will never crumble away because it was never born. - Kerouac

when sympathy isn’t worth it

- June 6 -

Getting hurt in the company of new humans that I don’t know very well and not daring letting on to the severity of my discomfort…

Because I will always downplay the incident. When I’m out of my element.. and I conk my head, or get poked in the eye, or get the wind knocked out of me or something like that, the last thing I need is a bunch of strangers feeling sad for me. I don’t care how bad of a headache that just gave me. And sure I feel like I maybe should probably go to the hospital to get this shit checked out… but I’ll never ever let on. I’m just gonna have to wait until this ice cream social is over and what the fuck am I even doing here with you people this is really kind of depressing I just want to go home.

Do I want some advil? Nahh. Well… maybe I should… just in case… but I really don’t think I even need it.

Strangers love to freak out when a new person gets hurt.

ants don’t have souls maybe #i’m high

- June 5 -

“bus kids were always a little scared during the day” - Gretchen Valade

- June 2 -

read more for bonus scared bus kid after the jump