Monday, April 8, 2013
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
How do you make a government-funded mission-fulfillment organization like PBS or Planned Parenthood self-sustaining without deviating from its stated purpose (which would let it operate without it being politicized, including by itself)? *** We reside in purgatory, terrified that we are actually in hell, and praying for heaven to be delivered on earth. *** Republicans equal objects (money, guns); Democrats equal abstracts (safety, security). *** Do zombie apocalypses embody the zeitgeist of this new millennium: to accept a diminishing standard of living as preparation for a more self-sufficient reality (home gardeners and gun owners would do well indeed)?
I watched an English-language Japanese news story about charitable outreach to people who had attempted suicide and/or considered doing so (again) in South Korea. It targeted my heart, but the newswoman ended her story with [paraphrasing]: But until it prevents all suicides, South Korea cannot be considered a success. Seriously? I am aware of the journalistic storytelling gimmick of 'Yet more work remains'--but the reality that South Koreans attempt to monitor those people who have contemplated/committed themselves to suicide is a success story at least.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Having skipped the article and only half-reading the comments, I now feel justifiably self-righteous, and as a Press employee (who also demands the return of manual typesetting and papyrus to compensate for the loss of medieval--and, yes, even ancient--printing jobs), I shall occupy my cubicle (except for caffeine, nicotine, lunch, happy hours, and nights and weekends at home or elsewhere) on behalf of the "99" percent of Press employees against marketing through panda adoption (I am doing it for MOST of us, after all [and no better Western political principle exists than imposition by majority]). Thank you for your presumed respectful impression (especially as your better)! --Ecks X
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Loss and Art
"You have nothing, and you want it all." I fear you taking what I have: what is mine. We must have consumerism, materialism, hedonism--art. Nietzsche was correct: once we have acquired and secured it all, and understood that this existence has no meaning or purpose, then to bear it, we must create (which is the only thing that we cannot lose). All else, otherwise, is confirmation of the primate.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
I could be a "dickhead": what's your definition; criteria? I prefer the insane: they provoke you to contemplate perceptions / perspectives. Maybe I am a "dickhead": how would the insane confirm such? The sane? Truthfully, the basis is 'feeling.' Then how does a "dickhead" make you feel? It's more semantic than interesting -- but intriguing, nonetheless.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
My grandfather lived through a waking dream for two months. He can remember what occurred before his stroke, but only vagaries from two months afterward. He perceived surrealities (he thought of my mother as a dead pilot flying -- while visiting him); he was conscious and unaware. Was he like a madman; a newborn; an animal? Now, he is normal, but what he has experienced is extraordinary! Perception, consciousness -- they are material, and a mockery of existence without sentience: without the ability to know.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Kim's black kitten with the white-striped underbelly can't be caught: it's fled past the screen-door into the backyard. I peer through, and see an empty pool. It's above ground, and the yard's quiet, dusky. Kim's kitten never returns. It's quiet and dusky: the sun's setting. I awake, my lip pursed; and I remember.
I can't convey through precision, but to consider the reader is to comprehend the reader--and I disdain the reader. I'm apathetic toward the reader: you merely are. I merely may be, too, but I am me: myself is my preoccupation. I'm not autistic, because I can comprehend you: you merely don't intrigue me. Why should I sympathize with your emotions: not only haven't you understood them, but I have them, too. What new have you introduced into my existence? Such is my bane.
Monday, January 31, 2011
I have no more questions or answers. I merely am occupying my remaining life. I shall exist til the end, or eternally. All that I can do is produce future time travelers, and they will experience only the past. What is a new tool but a tool. There are no answers, and there should be no questions. A surprise is but an unexpectation realized. One would be appreciated. It will obliviate, though: be irretrievable. Yet I yearn; I crave. Value not the details: they are esoteric, ephemeral. Be oppressed by the simplicity. It is true. *** More flowery nihilistic bullshit: not denying it; simply recognizing it. Do other people contemplate futility as often as I do? Why do I? I have not been distracted sufficiently. Oh...what? I listen to my own mind without hearing. Does lyricism exist in the obvious? Why can we not accept silence? It is a reminder. So, what? Actually, without "silence," no silence would exist. I do cherish the irony. I shall die: my mind shall cease to exist. What will I be like when I am elderly?