More A Ferocious Animal is a Man Who's Made a Beast of Himself and Decides He's More Human Than He's Ever Been.

Somewhere on my travels, i made an attempt at a weblog entry. i felt so very profound at the time and i knew it had to be written. unfortunately i was far to inebriated at the time to find my password for my webolg, so i wrote an email to myself.
as a side effect to my inebriation, what i wrote makes no sense whatsoever. i will post that entry for you now. I've cleaned it up to the point where there are now spaces between the words and I've fixed a few spelling mistakes. still, if you figure out what i was on about, please let me know.


Big Ideas and Full of Beans

great ideas pass us by like snakes in the grass pursued by the cruel child of adolescence. the Mexican keyboard halts my ambitious attempt to blog my amazing yet inebriated state of mind. as the virus of human thought creeps around my brain with a sweet pitter pater, the light leaves the world and wee are all left in the dark, as martyrs to our imaginations. in the dark, when its wet? none of it is quite tangible enough to get a solid grip on. hard times fall so many of us and several times this destined evening i have regarded something a friend told me as sheer brilliance. "there is no selfless act."
i can use that for all purposes, be they existential to procreational.
is that all there is. is that all i can recall? is there more that i can conjure up? you have to read to write i'm told and it was even mentioned musically at one point. i read like a madman and being one who can only conjure ideas as brief second of identity theft i believe myself now to be a writer. here we go again.
i{ve been told fond things, i've been told less. i've also been offered product to enlarge my manhood.
"what does it all mean?"
if anyone ever asks me that i will destroy them.
existential questions must be presented much more eloquently.
my question is this. if there is no selfless act, then is there also no selfish humanitarian act?
not an abrasive question, at least not meant to be. more just a question of greater valuer than the first comment.
there are selfish acts, and there are acts that benefit more than one party. the other party will always partially be the actor,but how many others
a mans worth is determined at birth
but a mans self is a creature that breathes plain as the trees.
something attached to the same life force, but something that represents its master.
something frightening and awe inspiring. unseen, they are pride and they are joy. an ambassador to the human race. something that needs to be taken care of as a house plant would. though it wil never die completely until its owner dies, it is a representative for that person. still only viewable by the person in charge, it is what drives the entire race to compassion and the true meaning of love, which is not between a man and a woman, but for life its self. love is only slang. the true meaning is for nothing but goodwill and declaration of humanity.
we can think and we can be proud. but we can only do so through slight bits of selfishness. without lookng out for love, how could we ever feel happiness? empathy? the best feeling a human being can feel is th understanding of sadness. the understanding of the thoughts from a room away. to read not a persons monologue, but they{re very present being all at once and to recognize it for the genuine feeling that it is. its the feeling that makes what we call heroes. its the feeling that makes us create versions of ourselves. its that feeling that makes life worth living.
the it only is that the love i feel in my heart is tainted.
it has nearly worn to thin to ever tread upon. though with drink and time, my pet comes back. through the woods as a kitten. always a kitten.shy but proud.
we grow into lynx and we roam alone. destined for life and only life. greatness is only a side effect of self and the love we have
sometimes it is not enough to keep these things to myself. sometimes the simply must be shared for my own self gratification. to present my findings to those who will listen
if they do, 1 might care.
there truly is no selfless act,and i wouldn't have it any other way.



well there you have it. the semi coherent ramblings of a man fueled with fictional literature and Mexican alcohol. i hope you enjoyed looking through the window of my madness.

The Past Is a Ferocious Animal

old habits die hard, which is to say they get forgotten and neglected over time. especially internet habits, which start as a reaction to an uninteresting life. the paradox of this particular writing habit of mine, is that i only come back to it when life becomes uninteresting and there is nothing to write about. when i have things to say, I'm far too busy to be concerned with wanting to share it on this so-called "world wide web".
lucky for the 3 possible readers of this blog, my life right now is uninteresting, but I've recently become enamored with the concept of paradoxes (or is it paradoxi?) , and thus i feel like shouting from this crude electronic mountain.
currently, I'm struggling with my own residual self image. for the past 9 years or so, my appearance hasn't changed much, other that a few beards here and there. in an ill-advised and irony/devil and Daniel Johnston inspired act of violence the other day, i changed what i look like. my mind's eye has yet to adapt, and for lack of a better term, its freaking me out. it feels as if I've stolen someone else body and discarded my own in a rubbish bin along the way. i do realized it will change eventually, but its incredibly painful to see something everyone else can no longer see.
a more pressing matter is my apparent lack of focus in this, what i though would be a brilliant, login essay on the state of the world since my last entry. however, to be honest nothing much has really changed. nothing thats still relevant anyway. love comes, love goes, new love comes, wash rinse and repeat.
the real skinny goes a little like this. boy takes trip to earn piece of mind, boy puts piece of mind on shelf and lives in parents basement, refuses to work and tries to be an artist. surprisingly no one tries to stop him this time. boy meets girl, boy meets girl, boy meets girl, boy meets girl. boy wondering is girls like him. boy guesses it doesn't matter because he'll be gone in a month. boy wonders if its shallow to pursue romance for such a short time. boy records extended player record. boy cuts of all his hair. boy is going back to the Yukon soon where things make the most sense to him.