Got Milk?

mooo!

Le Grand Mauvais Soi

It is a beautiful day but I am sitting and working in my room when I could be outside enjoying the sun! The older I get the more impatient I grow. School is boring, yes, I am wondering what made me go back to it? Our society of course! It has a beautiful habit of rejecting the rejects who don’t conform. So getting back in school was a way to not conform in a scholastic garb. However my scholastic garb seems to be loosening its hold and slipping off of my shoulders, I must need a new one?! I am not sure. I know I function best when I am able to help people, but this has taken a negative turn and I find it impossible to engage in tasks that are meant solely for myself. I hate how people always babble, ‘Me’ ‘I’ “Moi’? These words and the likes of them I’d press delete on my life’s keyboard if I could, however c’est impossible no matter how generous one’s spirit. Yes, not the soul. Soul is something else. Your spirit can be infectious and fill up a room with subtle laughter and fun, but Soul is the heaviness you drag in that shell of a body (it is like a casket actually) quite heavy but you have to drag its weight through out your mortality.

Overcoming the self. The self that is always overcoming itself. And itself is that menace which haunts our sleep, and lately my dreams, resulting in nightmares. I am not sure why I have been experiencing weird disconnected dreams; early childhood, grade school friends, and such. Amassing knowledge can be quite threatening to your already built system of thought and belief. The more information and knowledge one acquires the greater the inner-rearranging required! Oh, the forever disheveled house, always invaded and taken apart. I would not even associate sand castles to this process of dismantling. So my intent of writing this random (I have taken a fancy to this word lately) post is to get something triggered in my subconscious that I may take a plunge in my homework with a better perspective. We have a had a lot of wise men in our world, most are dead, the ones alive are hiding (as usual) I mean who can deal with being wise and social? They just don’t mix (e.g. water and oil). Well anyway, lately my theme has been a personal reorganization of my identity, I am trying to come to terms with who I am, how I can project that self, (or as one of my professors had put, “putting your best self out there”). It’s not easy because somehow what seems to be isn’t and what never seemed to be, is. Which reaffirms my belief that most philosophers don’t know what they’re doing (including the dead ones) and those alive and kicking in this generation go by the thickets, not beating around the bush, but in front of it, very loud and very incoherent. And we eventually come to call them philosophical people who are defined by their incoherences and general ineptitude to grasp the infinite complexity of the self, the I , and the Me.

I hope nothing that I have said above made sense. I am planning to retire within three years of my graduation into a world that is not technical or mechanical, and is not governed by text books, computers and brains. I plan to retire into my heart and close the doors to the big bad wolves*!

(Wolves aka: ego, self)

humpty dumpty sat on a wall

well, there has been a lot of traffic here lately. i wonder why lol.

rain from a clear sky

bitter, bitter,
there will be no end to it.

the ant scurries up
the hill,

leaving a trail
of work
unfinished.

the grasshopper rolls
and jumps on the river bank,
“sit up, sit up,
do not frighten the mice,”

and the curious cow
shoo’s a mosquito
then blanches
into death.

dichotomy

you know how it is with women,
they say a thing
and mean another,

and you know how it is
with men,
they say
nothing at all.

then there are
some children
wise enough
to stop growing

before the balloon
is stretched out,
in a field of thorns.

i have three words to say tonight

allergy
allergy
allergy

vows

if you were my bootstrap
i’d tie you once
and then twice,
cross you up
make a nice design,

if you were my bootstrap.

we would
stay together
through rain or mud,

and if i lost
the desire to fight
i would give my feet a shake
and we’d pull through
just fine.

The Joker and the Queen

I am sitting in my room. The window is open and the smell of freshly cut grass wafts in. I can hear him, over my earphones, engaged in a meaningless argument with my mother. The neon blue paint on my left index finger is chipping. My dad is arguing about something on the phone as Carla Bruni gets louder. A brainless grey butterfly, the size of my thumb, adds the special effects by hitting herself incessantly from the outside of the window. I look to my left and see him standing at the door. Laughter and pretentious mockery escaping his eyes.

the eleventh commandment: be happy

The whole point of existing, of coming into being, in this world – is to be able to do whatever you please. Not to sound too incredulous, the old age rule should however apply i.e. do unto others as you would do unto you. That moral issue cleared from the way, we must all, then like curious children, be happy (& devoid of conscience*).

–
*(this rule does not apply to sadists & masochists)

descartes improvised