Musical Metaphysical Musings

Speaking of sleeping with me... something I want to get off of my chest.... I am really not sex obsessed. I know that every other thing I say is related to sex, but that's more of a counterbalance type deal I've got going on. Sex is told to stay in the corner of the room and not talk to anybody so I have to get out there and talk to people about sex. Maybe I don't know wtf I'm talking about but I think sex would be more important between strangers or friends than between deeply entwined lovers. I mean, that's one of the angles the hippies took, isn't it? I dunno... I just feel that logically thinking sex would serve two seperate purposes - intimacy and enjoyment. I think there can come a point where if you're close to somebody, the intimacy of sex would become obselete. Being mainly a physical act: two people who are very much in tune with each other would not be gaining any new levels of intimacy by simply getting naked and getting off. I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure of it, at least in my case. Enjoyment I think is more important to the maintaining of friendships and the building of friendships than it is per se' to the sustenanence of an intimate-romantic relationship. Would it not be more embarassing/revealing to reveal your true physical form to someone you've recently met or to your friends than it is to reveal to your one-and-only, the person you've already shared all your mental secrets with? The fervor and spiritual fun of sex I think would be very well-suited to cultivating deeper friendship among people you are friends with but do not know particularly well. But perhaps my outlook on this is damned by my pathetically escapist feelings towards people in general, how I tend to be more interested in a new and uncultivated friend than I am in the people who have always stood by me. I'm very envious of all those people who say things like "i love my friends to death! They are the center of my universe!" Do I love my friends? Hell yes I do! They're freaking awesome. But do I wake up in the morning and think "gee I hope I see my friends today, that's what I want most?" I wish. But the point of all this is to say that I'm not as into sex as I seem to be. Is sex one of my all-time favorite concepts? Definetly. But in the end I deem sexuality to be superficial at its heart (like my heart itself) and so in the end I have to reject it. Eventually I will become a full ascetic because the things that make me tick are superficial. I would not have any problem not having sex at all, since it's only a superficial act. The potential meanings derived from it could be derived from elsewhere. The potential intimacy could too be derived from elsewhere; snuggling, talking. I'll probably be abstinate my whole life unless I become a rock star or meet some very bold individuals. That's why I added "(and will ask me to do it)" to my semi-infamous people I'd like to meet. I do love the vagina quite a bit. Although I am also rather kinky. Long live sex!  

The sun turned off yesterday and I laughed at it ‘cause it was dumb. Somebody killed my Santa tomorrow, what a freaking shame I must stop the brain from blooding. Last time the time came I thought it was the time to go but back when the time was not new it was old so we could go and do as we please. I do believe someday I’ll stop being here and I’ll start not being here. Eventually I will be away from this and I can be myself. Don’t you think? Is the key to my salvation in another or is it in myself or is it nowhere? I’m looking for you regardless of whether I’ve found you or not. Tomorrow we will meet. Last night I saw you when you were leaving and it made me happy. Yet if I see it again then I will be sad, for I do not want you to leave. Or do I? Ahaha.

Therapeutic writing. The Dalia Lama says that inner-peace and satisfaction is essential to life and thought. In the end there is always more power to the emotion and connotational atmospheric infliction than in the thought and the reason. I find it odd. But the thought and the reason could seek to explain the connotational atmosphere and therefore gain some power over it. In the end I try to make out like a bandit, that is always the end. But then I can’t achieve this goal and I feel that I have been wronged. Thought is anguish. To leave, to go, to be, they are all the same thing at some point. I hope that in the near future I will no longer stop the ending of the start but then in the end I might begin to start the stopping of the ending beginning. That is what I meant and so I said it . I like to try to type really really faast I feel as though using my mind and then typing from it I can complete a new form of thought something thtat goes beyond what I can do by just thinking or just typing. Everybody knows that there is no such thing as everbvyody becaseu there are always exceptions to the something. My larege nails atop me from being able to type at optimum speed and this annoys me. I wonder what the meaning of life is. Perhaps it is to continue to ty[[e kfjffjfj I can’t get ah old of my tuping mbecause of my gdodamn giant nails. But I need these nails very sincerely and dearly for my musical expeditions that are more or less my greatest hobby. Perhaps I cshould just do as I know is right and change what I have been asked to change. Yossarian says no to a system, and that is what I seek. I seek to say no to the system that is myself. But I lack the sufficient “balls”. In England the quotation mark goes outside of the sentence i.e. “,. Wait no that means it goes outide. Here in America it goes on the ioutside of the sentence like .” .” but I hate that form and I do not do it out of pure stylistic belief. I much preffer to do it on the inside. And not that this is NOT in any way , shape, or form a result of personal habit that I do this. I have been well bred to put the period inside of the quotation makrs and it would be physically an easy thing for me to do, it would require no extra effort. But I just think it is a disservice to the writing. Only if the period itself is part of the quote in literal terms then should it ever be considered for the period to be put inside of the quote. I wonder if I can gtype with my head on the desk. I do believe it wouod be interesting if I could tyoe with my head on the desk but I don’t think I am doing a good job of it. How sweet would it be if I could succeed at life?

The killer awoke before dawn. He put his boots on.

I was in the lost end of summer when the time had copme again for me to leave. Alas, I said to myself, that I must leave this land and go far away to somewhere else. But my kind friend by the name of G took me by the hand and told me of the grandeur; and she told me that it would be good. So I agreed to leave the land and go away for a long time. That was the last time I ever saw the indian summer. But it is not a lose for me to believe in the futility of movement, not at all. Instead it is a great advantage for me to live the way I do. If she were her with me still then things woukld be much removed from their current state. Perhaps the times would be filled with nothing but light colored redish glows, but I am not sure. Instead I must accept the potential actuality that things would be not the better for her presence, and that we would be lost even moreso because of her greatness. Sometimes I admit to myself that htings are only as they seem and that I am only wrong all of the time. Other times I see things whcih make me belkieve in the opposite perception. Times are good when comfort is abounding. Times are bad when lack thereof. In the cold and snowy streets is where I feel for my salvation now today. But she is not there let me assure you that I know my wrongness is ample. I am now sitting here wondering over things which have not only no truth but also blasphemous personal outings. I am dreaming of things which may incriminate me further if they were to exist in a legible source of human expression. Luckily I am free ot be here and beleive as I choose in regards to everything that I believe in. But in the end this brings me no satisfaction for I am left without the fullfillment. Any fullfillment. None of iti s here. But at least I can sit here and believe.

Nothing has any intrinsic meaning what-so-ever. Meaning comes wholly from each individual. Nothing that lacks respect has the ability to move or inspire he or she who does not respect it. If you want to get something from words, the quintessential step is to revere them. Discount and disbelieve my ideas as much as you want. I’m of the personal opinion that not a single person who’s ever lived has been any wiser than average, since no one has been able to break through the barrier known as subjectivity. If you don’t start out believing that I have the potential, intelligence, and authority to be correct in my assessment of existence, then my ideas will not have been given any chance at all to do anything other than make you scoff. You need not give my ideas a chance, but I am weary of all critics who are not humble to the extent that they never critique any work. Since after all, to understand a work you must accept it. Many would disagree with me, but I have always believed that art, heart, and mind have always been and always will be for the ones it touches and not for any who would critique or discount it. You can say “I get it, I just don’t like it,” but I would say that to “get it” is synonymous with liking it. In the end I always must concede, because there is no intrinsic truth and anything can be argued well.