Mediations

Mediations

Now is the mediation between the impressions of the past, and the meditations of the finite mind on the infinite.

From the tumult of an errant Eros
Does a man behold a cloudless sky,
With a pitiless gaze and at once he breathes
He would have to take his throne and not be handed it,
None told him of the journey
Upon icy roads and trails torn jagged- he lets out a thin breath
Quickly again draws another in the thin air
Here alone, he judges none except himself
Wiping clean the debris from his freezing hands
Here then he contemplates- and in the first rush of thought is overcome with a chill
With a shiver and a jerk he thinks of flying to his death with a tearless eye
To death then! To her warm void and beckoning calls
Here and now he has come to count hope among the foulest of four-letter words
He does not look back
In the arms of death, he will find no solace
For the weak and the failures shall perish
Strange enough then that he chooses survival
Like all men, he is wedded to Fate,
But at this moment he has come to love her,
For he is a tool of no tool
his eyes stare across the passing clouds, and the icy peaks
In the beauty of that moment, he longs to join them as the lowest dust on their hills
He stares up and thinks of the stars beyond- he longs to join them
In their burning, colliding, and recurring birth and death,
But he finds a terrible tumult inside his inner depths
A raging storm never calmed and only ridden out
Standing in terror of that abyss- in trembling, and reverent awe
With a spirit of rock and an iron will;
Calloused hands that lost the loving touch
He comes to accept all that is before him
His time alone in the mountains-
Here are the clouds he does find his bread of life finally unspoiled
His drink issues not from a poisoned well from a clear spring
But dreams of her still come as simple nightmares

2008(Life was like a series of hangovers broken by blackouts)

Written originally in San Marcos, Texas at age 23 and edited in a place called San Angelo at 29 years of age

Her name means Perfect One in Gaelic. I made her blush with simple kisses. I need to get back to school but owe them money.
“What are you up to?”
“Existence.”
What is the meaning of all the suffering? Death can be just as inviting as life. Are books not unhealthy? The depths tire of their contents and long for the existence of a simple, tranquil pond. All is impermanent. To seek to find permanence is to perpetually struggle for the unattainable. Life itself is a ceaseless struggle that ends in overcoming or succumbing. The struggle is the meaning of life. Humans are the meaning of the earth as our minds are the only ones conscious in a sense to think even of it. We are beasts in clothes sure enough but human enough to doubt our beastliness, even if only for a split second. Man spends much of his vitality on the question of the end. To die or not to die? To die by one's volition or not is the question of questions. Religion posits non-death and ensures a living death in the process. Faith holds enough of a tyranny we must not let it lord over even its foes. It is clear that even if a 'higher power' as such has an existence that it has nothing to do with religion or its doctrines. My god died two ways: first was the pitiful satire of his followers- mental and spiritual – the second was the overcoming of the silliest mystical doctrines. I found that I had to play dialectical games to make something so dear to my hart the objective truth. Finally, my mind overcame this passion and plunged into the deepest depths of human existential misery. Connections became apparent; relationships and their mores dancing before my mind's eye with all the historical collapses and revivals. I was liberated from illusions.
A friend of mine named Cayla once said to me that people pray because the thing that created the universe is not human and does not understand feelings. So it must be appealed to in this manner. When one has the experience of praying in an emergency room and this not being answered, you tend to get a different picture of things. Either the lights go out one day and you are dead, or you get to the finish line only to meet some higher-dimensional beings who basically tell you 'Just kidding!' and you go on your eternal business with a god who exists outside of time but somehow accepts souls in real-time. The reality of the after-life may be no more real or non-real than anything else. I have to assume others have thoughts though I have no direct proof of it, for instance. But the mind cannot stomach death. Perhaps this God reveals himself to people in stages along a path of maturation.
Buddhism posits that Siddharta brings us a raft to traverse the abyss between us and enlightenment. Nietzsche posits that those alive with intuitive Dionysian wisdom depart from a shore into a great ocean.
It is safest to believe in nothing because in the end nothing is worthy of fervent belief. Treat each day's experience as final, take every moment as beautiful, accept no second chances, seek not some eternal recurrence of the same for happiness gone by. This is the wise approach. Calm the mind. Cultivate situational awareness, also called mindfulness.
What is love? What is it's account? Insanity. That is all. A passion without ceasing running its biochemical course along a series of partnerships. It is, in the end, the most terrible of four-letter words, that one emotion that ebbs against the rocks of personhood and its strength. One who loves should realize that they are engaged in a gamble. True love is rare. Many cast the dice. Few win the game, and in the interests of spoilers, everyone dies at the end. One must ask if the wager is worth the risk. Anne Sexton, who later lost the will to live, said, 'Men kill for less.'
Think of cheap love in this manner: it is love without direction, love without purpose. It is mutual whoredom.
Philos and Sophia. Loving wisdom. Perhaps then, nothing else. Maybe to be alone is your lot. Love is just another obsessive compulsion. Speak not of this to other men. They understand nothing but erections. You are contained within your mind. It can never find its way to another outside of lucid prose. Think not of how you have hurt others. Ill deeds done in the full light of day. You pay for them enough. Always be ready to ask for forgiveness and accept the answer. If, justly, they accept, then your misdeeds are done. If they chafe in hatred, then the problem rests with them. Clear your soul of refuse. Some have tapeworms of the spirit. Enough in this world is dark; let your inner depths be clear of oil spills. Your deeds will follow you. Either God will crush you or faceless karma will have its way. Not in the hippie-horseshit sense. Karma just means actions have consequences.
Do not recoil from the storms. You may be soaked and chill, but it will eventually cease. You will cease one day as well. You still have youth; there is much time. Pass it with your particular joys. Know a bit of pleasure and learn to be cheerful. Think not of a woman. Things more pressing lie ahead of you. To many, you will seem a terror and a will all its own; a madman. To the woman, you are better a thing unseen. Remember not the loving touch of those in your past. It may never replay again. Think of the future, the land to be traveled, of that glorious sunset over and open field. Think well of the golden wheat swaying on a thousand rays of sunlight. Where the passions run high; so will your temper. Forget not your demons. They have their place in your pantheon. Break bread with them. Tell them you will not banish them to hell.

Be wary of the beauteous gaze. It is acid to your strength. Many are beautiful, but none is superior. Do not seek someone like you, that ego reflection, that other half, that embrace that feels like coming home again. You climb too easily, love harshly, boast too truly, suffer too well, drink too soberly. You know what it means to love, but you paid the cost. It is good, for a time. But daybreak will end eventually. This is not the good in life. 
She may be beautiful. Maybe she could marry a poet and be his endless muse for verse. She may carry all those charms of Pandora. Her body may be an overflowing cup of wine, and she may have sweet honey on her lips. Her laugh may be like music. Her speech like the angels harp. But you will have to turn your back, and one day you will say goodbye, in this life, or when one of you passes to the next. There may be a time for this, but now is not that time. Now there exist no finer things in life. To seek it now is to defile one's honor and dash another person's four letter word of hope across the most unforgiving of rocks. 
Think every day: I will carry forth the simplest tasks, moving forward with mindfulness. Day by day, I will produce, economically and artistically. Day by day I will expand my skill-set, I will learn, I will go onward from place to place, with wherever I may roam being my home. This road stretches far. Find that life for yourself which brings you the most honor. Remember your ends. Find balance, do not stress over difficulties. Among all runners, there will come fatigue. Among all wars, a cessation of a campaign. Among all great labors a time to rest. There is rest, though, in action. Men learn to sleep on the march when it is asked of them. Some people are like favorite dishes and others an exotic taste. Do not expect too much from certain meals. But do not become bigoted in certain tastes, lest your meals lose all novelty. 

Know thyself: not only are you not moral, you don't believe in morality. Not only do your actions suggest that you do not have a moral compass, but that you are not even trying to navigate. When you come to 'morality' you simply use it to your ends. Virtue is a better word for what you attempt to practice. 
You exist. You are what you are. Choose then how you will exist. Is suffering without ceasing the type of existence you desire? First control desire itself, and then with this rock, ask yourself what will make a person happy. A bit more money, if only for the freedom of not worrying about money. A good home. Kindred souls. The keeping of one's brothers. The position from which to be truly kind. To give, one must first amass. 
Do not become teary eyed at the lofty terribleness of your vision. Do not ask what standards of society you have violated. They were written for sheep. Do not ask for honor in the sight of others, only honor according to your own code. Do not ask for their opinions on any matter. They are illogical, inapplicable and linear rather than parallel or algorithmic thinking, mere attempts by bovine to convince you to stay within the wire of the feedlot. But you are Human. You have had to struggle with your first breath. Expect no different from the future. Rejoice at the tests of strength, because they will make all of your small victories that much the greater. 
Every person must make peace with themselves and the time in which they live. Even if this peace be the simply greenery of the earth. The best and simplest axiom is 'Do onto others what you would have done unto you'. This is wisdom, but the deep instinctual drives of human psychology often translate this into, 'Do onto others all the wrongs that have been done unto you'. Do not betray. Do not lie. Do not expect to be understood easily. Keep to one's commitments. 
'The worth of character begins to show when a person acts not from mere inclination, but from duty.' If only we could see people as ends in themselves.     

So you spent the night with drink? What was the end of this? A little release, but the morning came with its lessons. You were in tune with primal energy then. The next day always carries its punishment for beastly pleasure. Do not think the worst of yourself. Who among men has ever had the gall to speak to you with the harshness that your mind speaks to you in?
Commit childish errors only once, never twice. In the grace of a woman is found peace. Do not think of how you have been wronged, or of romances deflected or left for dead on the side of the road. Better they are companions though, lest you subject them to what you are though the intolerable closeness of sustained intimacy. 

All is flux, and nothing appears to remain static. The next day could bring death. Sleep is a luxury. Existence is a commodity to be spent wisely. How is mathematics a way to so-call truth? What is truth? In every place it appears, truth looks out of place, yet always sought. It is never found. El Dorado. 
Do not easily shirk rest. The subconscious too needs to bring forth its insights. 

Aim for simplicity. What is richness? A man must first be rich in his passions, for his passions will either be base, or of a higher type. Have taste, even in the crudest of humors. Be able to pleasure many without courting undue favor. To behold the worst on the earth, and love it anyway. Speak well. Have right speech. Bear a countenance of peace, speak sensibly and in the right moment. Stand one's ground when being accosted. Rationally explain all interpersonal interactions. Bear joy in one's eyes. See it in others, nourish it and grow it. 

What is justice?
Justice, when considered in general, loses its particulars. With the growth of collective justice we have forgotten its effect on the individual. Let us take a concept like distributive justice. What is to be distributed, and to whom?Are we all equal in reality? No,we are born vastly different. Rawls was an idiot not because his moral logic was flawed, but because his theory of the social contract does not reflect reality. Nozick at least admitted the falsity of the social contract but went about proposing a corporate dystopia in the place of the current mixed economy police state. Equal distribution is actually unjust. Collective Justice is always unjust to someone. Know this and count apolitical apathy as one of your strengths. You must unlearn pity, because pity is so sought after but seldom given without due recompense. Be just to those that you know. Be just in a way that you can as an individual. 
Why so grim? You are both ultimately free and responsible for all of your actions. The only truths are the simple ones. We humans know lying well. We are born with knowledge of it from birth, and count the first among cowards liars. After childhood, we can learn lying so well that it clouds our thinking from the metaphysical to the objective. Tell the truth to counter the cause of lying. Be honest with yourself. 
What is the self?
Dividum. Among one group you are crude, another you are silent. Never both at once. Unity of self is the goal of authenticity. 
What need have you of a wife? What have you done to earn affection from another person? Your reason knows that such a path is not open. Today you completed all tasks before you, and you will do it again tomorrow. So what then of these fancies you catch for females?
The first of the virtues is honest- be honest about what you can offer then. A common woman is a hag, a weight, maybe an evil in some cases in the Old Testament sense. Stay alone. There is scarce room for a second love in place of your objectives. Be careful not to dream too much lest you never wake. The work ahead is hard. One has to be hard to complete it. 

All of your sufferings comes from that which you cannot have, yet yearn for. Act accordingly.
Remember that all of life has no grand meaning. Nothing will last. All of life is struggle followed by extinction
Life is a purposeful struggle, nothing more. One must define purpose. You must define your purpose and keep to it. Happiness and triumph will follow this. Do that which follows this.
The unconscious has it's own logical insanity. It knows to all which the mind smashes to pieces to understand it.

To love a woman and to love her well may be the most moral of all actions. It is universal, for from it may come the future. The knavish woman can have no part in this. Ecce Homo Malum. Hate all which holds no value. Love that which does. Glory in all that comes.

Courage is the overcoming of the self. Conquer your weakness. Dare a dangerous union with another. Do not feel any shame or guilt. Guilt is redeemed by future goodness. Shame is banished when one disregards another persons uninformed opinion.

God was an invented thing. Everything is only chaos with order being imposed by subjective human needs. The idea of a first cause is only a first correlation. Scripture is only a badly read and translated lie. The truth, no matter how bad and depressing, is still the truth. The gaze of a woman is the only paradise a man will find, but this is also a lie. Life likely ends at death. Nothing dead ever comes back. Prophecy is just an extended metaphor. It is merely used by stupid individuals to their ends. To be human is to live a contradiction. Thus, it is for matter that happens to be conscious. One has to be still heroic in the face of this.

Excellence is the full development of the fruits of virtue.
The injunction 'practice what one preaches' is better inverted.
After meeting an existentialist, I must vivisect my psyche. The psyche- id, irrational, haughty laughter in the act of destruction. When one thinks of space, of infinity, this is never something one can really think of like non-existence. Man's mediation with infinity. God was never a comfort for man, just another excuse for madness. Nomadic, timeless, and a proletarian without power. Complicated. A terrible kind of spirit dwells in me. A small anecdote- I was once caught staring into a window at my own reflection while speaking, and the other party in the conversation told me that the possessed are obsessed with their own reflection.
My mind is like a singularity. My only true communication is my words on the page- Text On A Screen. Theoretically Text On a Screen is a Person.
If one has made life a hell, it is your duty to burn in it.

Ever stop journaling because it gets repetitive? I stopped time-stamping them and attempted to speak to wider issues. The personal issues are the same across the years. 
I turned 23 today. Like all other days, I thought of the 20 cent solution. It is the way out. My bank balance stands at $650. I'm going to have to loan shark that stripper I loaned my car to. She has been behind on my collections efforts. Escorts never were reliable. Survival another year is something after all. I will be at a bar later. Last sober night was earlier in the week. It has become more rare, but someone else has been buying. 
Like a sinner. One step from heaven, one step from Hell. We will see where you stagger. Speaking to someone you nearly married is always awkward. She has moved on but you remain alone. Not that you want her. You want the woman you have spent so much time with. You want her fully- not just physically, but you want your relationship to be as spiritual to her as it is to you. You fight the impulse of emotional gravity which is winding itself into you. You know you will miss her a lot when the day comes, and you double the pain.
You tried to watch TV. It was obvious propaganda. The country is burning down, and you don't care. All that matters is holding onto work. A job, at the moment. Doing one's job well can have its joy. Your next check will be comfortable. You can't stand to be conscious anymore. There is a pill for that or beer somewhere on earth to assist with it. 
You awoke in a daze or pain. Then came the rage. You could think nothing but hitting the road. You did, then paced like a restless animal in your 600 dollar a month cage. 
You were sitting in the sun, and a woman pulled up, we can call her Meg. She was talking about something, but you don't even remember it as you write this. She hugged you and left. Your southpaw hurts. 
You go through hell to get an apartment in Austin. The manager says something about a brunch on Sunday. Work is a blur, and you walk around half asleep. You function so poorly you can understand how you make it to end of shift. 
Ever meet a woman who is so beautiful it hurts? 
As I recall the fragments of Heraclitus, one never stands in the same river twice. Have you ever loved or only lied? Will you die alone? All you reach out to will run. Conscience is that dirty cat. The entire day you think of suicide, the irrational urge. You carry on, that stoic out of time, as the guardian in the cave, who sees the light of a higher nature. Pale allegory. Living such a labor, but labor do we to live even. 

Austin Texas
This town is shrouded in Greenery like Ashoka's Highways. Arteries of an oasis amid the valley of conservative death. Stopping and starting roads; they have forgotten the decamanus. Plagued by bicyclists and motorists who all wake and bake then ride dirty- prepare for a white knuckle ride of what the fuck is wrong with the operators of these motor vehicles. Along these congested roads you will see an almost international city with the visage of high-tech money rising from poverty. Draft houses, and interesting cuisine rotting into the natural scene. A whole city of people moving there to do absolutely nothing. The cops act like they raided the evidence locker and left baking soda in it's stead.

The enormity of human knowledge is vexing. How many days do we consume in forms?

How much life is consumed in forms? Driving is merely avoiding two thousand pound killing machines. Focus.
Zarathustra was convinced the world of the existence of an Adversary to his Good. Often, I feel nothing. Evil is just the initial feeling of revulsion at some act or a thing. It can be deadened with prolong exposure. The child laughs freely- the adult is stone-faced. The child has not yet felt the lash. Ever have the insane democidal urge? Good is good; evil is evil- Thus Really Spoke Zarathustra. The walk home from work was joyful. I love my work yet hate it.
So Zarathustra saw visions? Haoma was it? I will chase the Green Fairy.