A Message to a Friend from March, 2006

tonight, i was laying on my bed and thinking about the self, and I. more like the conception of "I". like what is really I, and what makes I. i mean i usually think about all this but i guess tonight, i happened to write some. because you know there is the reason, the desire, self control, confidence all that stuff, self awareness, i mean but what is the self.

happily, i reached a conclusion. i think "I" is not really "I". or at least in the context that we think about "I". I feel like "I" means rather like the operator of "I" than just solely "I". I think what we call the self is pretty much that operator. and the "I" is the machine. I mean it is like some person operating a machine. but the difference is that the operator doesnt quite understand the machine. and another thing is that the machine also functions on its own (breathes, heart beats, hunger, need for love, thirst). self awareness is simply the presence of an operator. i think thats what the self is. but we dont understand the machine, which is sad, hence why we suffer.

you know in movies, there are security guards watching surveillance cameras to make sure everything is ok. like a security guard at a museum. most people are like those security guards. that guard (stock character) is usually fat, lazy, going nowhere in life, works late at night, blah blah. anyways, that guard has no idea about the museum, or about thievery or about anything. he is just looking at the camera, and alarms if there is someone trying to rob the museum. that is i think how much people are really in control of their lives. or most people i should say are just fat security guards, fat operators that dont understand much.

anyways, then i thought about god. i realized that the realationship of a human being to the "I" is a lot like the relationship of god to the universe. god doesnt have control of the universe although he created it and he made it. the similarity is human beings made selves as well. anyways, so then i realized god cant be fully aware, just like human beings cant be. humans dont understand their own machinery, their own workings. there is no way, god understands the universe. god is only partially aware like us. that thought made me a bit happy that i could identify with god in some way. i dont think he is dead like nietzsche said but he just doesnt know that much what is going on. he is lost in universe's workings.

well, at one point i dont know how the universe came to existence just like i dont know how humans came to construct selves. i guess at some point, when people were forced to leave in societies, consciousness came to existence with the self but i think there is only one emotion that caused it. last week, i thought it was the need to feel good, the need to feel happy that forced the self to come existence. well, today, i believe it is rather the fear because nothing is stronger than fear. i think fear forced us to develop ourselves. then fear must have been the beginning of the universe. i dont know what that quite means but think about fear. when you feel fear, there is no way it is going away. the more you dont want it, it is there. so persistent and strong. and great suffering as well. and so many things in life we do out of fear.i mean, we love out of fear. think how much dependent we were when we were born, that love we had with our parents had its foundations on fear. noone loves for the sake of love.

but then, fear must be so beautiful. without fear, how can we know we are alive. it is the only feeling that makes you feel alive. if there was no fear, people would just float around probably end up taking their lives. and fear is so godly in that sense, and it is also such a grandoise emotion. so overwhelming and i guess since it is so overwhelming, so beautiful and lovely as well.

enough from me, i should be going to bed soon. harmony can only exist when there is inbalance. so then there is harmony in life. death can only exist when there is life. there must be death in life. but then think about choice. choice can only exist when there is no choice. (or inability to choose). i dont think choice can exist. i dont think free will should even be considered a concept. it is so dark when you think how predetermined human beings could be. noone feels bad because they choose to or good too. you cant choose feelings and tthat machine that i described pretty much does what we call feelings. the operator reasons but he is powerless over the machine. so since the machine has no choice, i dont think we have choice in our lives, i mean what is the operator going to choose. he is just going to choose what to eat. but he is still going to eat, he has to eat.

anyways, hope you did ok with your story. i ll be curious to read it. call me tomorrow. life is a joke.

The Potential Suspect

planning an escapade on the outskirts of the enlightened world
carefully, the bug dips into a brand new stardom
the furious puncture of the lungs, a breath one too many
eyes the color of galaxy wanders on for an affection unmet.

The Century of Bugs

the crawling bug closes on the rhetoric of the 21st century
mending a broken artery fostered with the strangest of species
reading a book for the sake of crumbling laughter
a bone eats itself on the outside for a better century.

War of the Worlds

a displaced warrior far away from his battlegrounds
a soldier intimate with his futility
too fragile for words, too broken to paint
in a war he forgot to fight,
a world he forgot to remember.

and the warrior races on to trace his seeds to his roots
to a place he has known to be someone else's.
the soldier fights and collapses and frights
away to a place where he cannot fight
to an unavailable infantry where noone needs him.
(the soldier keeps moving)

the story of the enormous whale

a whale of enormous quality was set on its mission, to find the one and only lonesome princess who gasped at the sight of ridiculous singers. with the faint misunderstanding of such a plot, the whale embarked on its journey complete with a hangover and a pink jacket. touted as the most beautiful whale, he thought about waterfalls that lose their minds before they reach the water. he often found himself dreaming about the ubiquitous love of these waterfalls that the princess always told him about. fiddling with his backpack and taking cautious steps, the whale yearned for unearned affection and backpedaled his steps when he saw the waterfall over him. his mouth engorged, the whale indulged in the fervent melody of the water drops. he forgot about the princess lazily imitating the state of being and existing and the state of desiring. peeking at the photograph of her and peering at the waterfall, he decided to return to his wasteland; the water felt a little too much to him. maybe another day, the whale thought and whispered "maybe another day..." the morning was amiss.

the world is an amnesia

i think the world and our walls can be very much grounded in amnesia. a human being's relationship to itself is usually mounted by this amnesia, which is a case of not remembering that is different than forgetting since every memory leaves its trace regardless of how tiny it is. when the earth came to existence some billion years ago and when the first living creature felt fear, something extraordinary happened and consciousness was born. as much as the cells replicated with a mutual attraction towards each other, the living moved towards each other with this mutual fear and combined to make different species with different mutations that gave way to chaos and diversity. soon after, fragments of the world corresponded with other fragments and consciousness became a stream and life fed from life and the universe became a cycle as the earth was initiated. a certain way of things was alive as human beings populated in a pretty interesting way as more cells interacted with each other on both physical and neural levels, maybe more than before with never seen before deviations. so the world was an empty well with a long tunnel towards its heart as amnesia bounced from wall to wall making its way towards the top only to drop down and go up again. and in the end, it was only the cynicism of the myelin sheath that remained. the human being itself was irrelevant as it has always been.

a new morning sun

a pain too keen to proceed and a heartache felicitous to its surroundings. fried shrimps rained atop the roof of a suzuki car, the past an incomprehensible picture that stabs its way through the scabs of the sky - the scabs of the skin too light to hold onto - the person is lit on fire with a yearning for lust - a bearing for gluttony - cans of mushroom playing hockey with the pasta, a dream too young to forget, too old to remember - stuck in a position of compliance and contradiction - consequently ending with a regular ache that is everything but regular - a ban on feelings - opting for the easy road, decisions given with two more people in mind, a gray ban on the mind - brain a fiscal matter spending on new cells, a number game - walls on fire - the mother reaches out, the child is in handcuffs - lighthing himself on fire, a pain too deep, a glare too cynic - laughter and humor, playing out elaborate fantasies of fame, reigning damned agony - a real time, a real shadow, something sometimes too much too bear and consequently ending with yet another ache - a new day, a morning and laughter and irony and humor and sarcasm - a new sun, a new love and a new manipulation.

fathom of the dark night

saints empowered anal princesses.

word of the day

freedom is a word