i gave her no pause -

i gave her no pause -
today the sun stood still -
I felt the day freeze frame -
but i gave her no pause,

rough... that 70th step is a doozy!

It has been 69 days and change. Presently, and for most of this weekend in one sense or another, i have felt rough.


I have been making decent strides in cramming for my midterm on monday morning, and have pretty well covered about half the material i have to cover over this weekend as i approach its halfway mark here. But for various reasons, surrounding a few interactions, a few non-interactions, a few worried phone-calls from old-friends and half-acquainces where i listened absently to their own worries and stresses, a few short-term stresses in my immediate future, bafflement about impeding vacuum in my near future, long term stresses in the not so near future, and the perpetually persistent and unanswered matter of how the hell i'm going to pay for 'this all', i am finding myself quite anxious, and a little bit beside myself as to what do with that anxiety - or how to channel it or expel it. So instead i'm sitting here, chain-smoking, drinking the umpteenth cup of tea of the evening and shuffling my way through these equations and exercises. This weekend started off so fresh and upbeat. Now i feel like i'm waiting either for something bad to happen or for a worse unhappening.

This is day 69. Unfortunately, i feel like that is probably circumstantial also.

Satnam Baba

well lovers,


Today is the 24th of 35 days, and my attitude has changed considerably. I've been working on my life-line over the past 24 hours and am a bit concerned that, despite my sober attempt to maintain candor, it may be taking on a flowery ornate aspect that may obscure the thing-in-itself. We shall see about this.

I woke up early this morning from a dream narrative that found me wandering the barren toxic wastes of a post-apocalyptic north America looking for food, listening to antiquated 40s jazz on a personal stereo. Somehow amidst the clamor of all this i found myself in an open air classroom, anticipating a midterm examination on literary devices, from which i excused myself so that i could go to the washroom, whereby i woke myself and wrote this instead.

I spent some time yesterday looking for a place, i found myself imagining what it would be like to live amidst the photos of each apartment, and picturing what kind of life i stood to lead. In each one i found myself a little gloomy and isolate. I imagine things will likely begin to exclude me going forward. I'm pretty sure i stand to lose friends. I'm not good with abandonment. I have been accused of being needy. I suppose this is for the best though. At least i stand to regain and re-cultivate my sophistication. This is stupid. -EndofNarrative-

well it's the end of day 3 and week 1/5 begins in earnest tomorrow. during the days I get by pretty well, manage to get along with everyone, keep my mind and body busy and not much phases me. but it's about this time of the evening after around 945 in the evening that I begin to get really restless, that I begin to feel like I'm not going to be able to deal with being stuck out here so long and that while I know these people their kind their sort and their troubles, while they are not completely alien to me, that I am fundamentally unlike them. I haven't really come across any kindred spirits or anyone I feel I can really fundamentally connect with and I am dislocated from my element. part of me feels likey issues are already addressed and that I could leave tomorrow keep moving forward and never look back. this fellowship is awesome and amazingly helpful, but as soon as my time is done I want to move on and never look back. I know of course that I'm nowhere near ready for this exit yet and perhaps not even soon. but the moment I satisfy myself that I can sustain the outlook and attitude toward my issues outside in the same manner which iam doing here in the face of any trial temptation or test of will, I am out of here. in the meantime I take my solace in the newfound companionship of some albeit questionable characters, and the reconnection with my level clear fully empowered mind and mental faculties. I feel maybe 90%, not sure if it would sustain if i just threw myself back in my old context, the pack and a half a day and all chained to my monitor.

the others all talk of the processs as too short, flying by, dreading their own departure, so far I cannot relate.


please stand by...

day 2

'through medititation i program my heart to beat break-beats, and hummm basslines on exhalation.

J remarks that the key to attraction/seduction appears to be scarity. I am not a scare inividivual. I have been accused more than once of being larger than life, of being a perenially overflowing cup, disseminating my attentions, affections, and energies to anyone to has happened prompt it.

it comes to my attention that i have become critically undervalued; in the estimation of others, but also -either consequently or causally- in my own self estimation and private mirror-confronting reflection.

Part of this problematic is enformed by my vague life-philosophy that i try to live out and actualize: vaguely to personify love, acceptance, openness in relationships with others and to try and transcend or step out of the hegelian master/slave discourses of power, social transactions of status or upperhand, of the phenomenological 'intentionality' of subject-will predicating object-other. This behavioral example is present in the buddha, the christ, and Zarathustra figures of mono-narrative religion, but it demands willing disarmament of the will as an oppositional barier of selfhood in a world ever not a fraction of a fraction of the rest of the wills out there behave this way - or are even open / capable of attempting it. I concede i havent personified the ideal of that modality but I think i access it regularly and act consciously to apply it.

I figured the goal is informed by the under-pinning notion that the sense of 'Love' that occurs beyond good & evil, in a space above moral judgement, in the communion between a person and a person, or a person and a society, alienating dogma, or natural world such that

the Self-defining, otherness-honing Ego is told to stand down, and where instead of contrast in opposition between the self and other, the distingushing border - the limen - between self and other begins to dissolve and differential inter-judgement becomes impossible. I will call this Ontological Love, because it involves a fundamental shift in the space of the ontology of a subject vs. object in its participant. This philosophy, i believe, is pinned down and implicit it an an be extracted from an open reading of any religious scripture, and its eschateological narrative towards transcendance or the playing out of this story/chapter/dimension/ba

rdo of the will.

This modulation of ontology is precisely a process of ontological transcendance or evolution... this therefore i feel is a worthy, perhaps most worthy directive of the conscious will or mind in its defining narrative of co-dependant,in constant flux, with otherness.

In every avenue of the human experience, of the phenomenonlogy of will, this maxim holds:
We do not fight ourself, taking shape, or in coming together. But we tear ourselves part in coming apart.

t'es tant belle

"Blackbird come @ the break of dawn. The TV's on, I turn it off.
I walk outside, get in the the car. Stare @ the wheel & fall apart...

Black rooms in which to baste and bathe in it, White halls to pace and wait for it.

I know that it's bad / that it's the kind that they can't operate on...
Styrofoam coffee cups, and bad drugs that never work enough
and i know it's real slow honey, painful & real slow.

When we were young, with heads like hammers,
i'd write the nails into your hands.
But when 99% of us is failure, there's no turning back.

O! Blackbird come @ the break of day...
Swallow this shit that people say.
Walk outside, look @ the sky,
Ask it to fall or tell you why???"

.. and out darkness comes. a ...

Well -

it's been a while, and this space is all kind of unkempt and dusty now - but let's see if can summon up the fortitude and focus to rekindle the old pilot light. These ashes' stir, it's something they just must do.

And oh Silence, to be candid I'm afraid there's some kind scary and intimidating changes just turning the corner round the bend in this little clusterfuck of a life i lead. This will be my confessional/confidance space... we'll have to see about changing that username a little later.

No one still reads this old thing anyway though now do they? Do they? Prove me wrong Silence?

as it would turn out, the cola was consumed by apathy

... situation to follow ...

" ... and ... let there be light. "

beautiful, terrible, but beautiful.

"I've seen horrors... horrors that you've seen. But you have no right to call me a murderer. You have a right to kill me. You have a right to do that... but you have no right to judge me. It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror. Horror has a face... and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies. I remember when I was with Special Forces. Seems a thousand centuries ago. We went into a camp to inoculate the children. We left the camp after we had inoculated the children for Polio, and this old man came running after us and he was crying. He couldn't see. We went back there and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile. A pile of little arms. And I remember... I... I... I cried. I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out. I didn't know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget. And then I realized... like I was shot... like I was shot with a diamond... a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought: My God... the genius of that. The genius. The will to do that. Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we. Because they could stand that these were not monsters. These were men... trained cadres. These men who fought with their hearts, who had families, who had children, who were filled with love... but they had the strength... the strength... to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral... and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling... without passion... without judgment... without judgment. Because it's judgment that defeats us."

- "Mistah Kurtz (he dead)"

reflection on the life well-lived (wip)

Life is not for comfort's sake,
nor is a still room enough to keep
its flame - Life is not peace.

Life is not peace, but a wonderful violence
and a tender fist of bruised of earth
and the welt that spreads a blush.

Life is the struggle, to live to fear
to find disparity in dispositions,
and disparate - life binds the desperate.

Life occurs in pains, and colours
and names itself with clamour,
or writes itself in scars.

Life is not peace, Peace speaks:
absolute - with such-silence.
Life is our oldest verb - its
'in the doing', and the changing.

Life haunts by groves of sycamour
though they keep holds of death in sight.
Life is the Immanence: the in this 'thisness'.

Life is our lettings go,
and our fallings together.

-BN

please stand by....