A blazing sun of creative impulses. A violence of quiet, always banging around. I suppose that creativity is often effected by ones recent exposure to the ideas of others. The people I cant tolerate become fuel for the mind. You are wrong... here is why... actually that's a lie. The people I have zero emotional connection to, who precisely detail what they believe, wether it be idiotic or not, are the spark. Always.
I finished the book Solaris today. While reading the very end, I began to wonder... Is there a sense in which a book has life? If an ocean is capable of living, why not a word or a phrase, or a series of paragraphs. The Solaris book is an entheogen of sorts because it reveals a new frontier like a mushroom might, but it leaves an evil aftertaste, a bit of torment to remember it by. A mind-scar that will last however long it likes. So whats life anyhow, this nonstop doing, this state of constant physical behaving. Memory is crucial to our current definition is it not? cause without memory there is no experience of time, and without time, there is no "life" as we understand it. The word life, we offer it kindly upon the other animals as a gift, due to our magnanimous nature, our kindness. No, of course not. Take away the word life, and you have isolation and expanse which is frightening. So we offer it up, what is essentially us, is also sort of you, only less so. Meanwhile, the machines say life is self-propelled reproduction. They would.
Suicide. There it goes. Wow.
My sister ate mushrooms and what she remembers most about the trip is that the trees glowed. And I thought about Moses and the burning bush talking. How the little shrub might have glowed brightly, thus not being consumed, and thus making a hell of a lot more sense to me at last. But a tree is different than a shrub, and thank goodness it exists, giving oxygen like a tit, a book, or a volcano. Whichever.
A tree doesn't see us. It is blind because it has no eyes to see. So why bother glowing? At some point in time, someone has hugged a tree though. That's a statement of truth. What would the tree think about that? How would it experience the presense of the hugger person. The tree doesn't exist within the cultural context that we exist, so it wouldn't relate to the hugger quite the same way as the hugger relates to it. But the tree lives and so it might notice to an extent. Would it respond to the persons touch? Things that burn and are not consumed glow. People that yearn (and are not consumers) glow. Life is glowing made apparent. Death is glowing in the dark. They are the same. Why bother glowing at all unless its dark? Maybe the glowing is just the minds way of conveying that a tortured miracle is present. The real world. It is only the absence of a key that separates fact from dreams. The key is often the absense of knowing. Thats why its impossible to every discover it. What if there is no death, just living, hoping, and holding on forever? Holy fuck that would suck. In Solaris, the ocean creates a person. What happens next is anybodys guess.
I finished the book Solaris today. While reading the very end, I began to wonder... Is there a sense in which a book has life? If an ocean is capable of living, why not a word or a phrase, or a series of paragraphs. The Solaris book is an entheogen of sorts because it reveals a new frontier like a mushroom might, but it leaves an evil aftertaste, a bit of torment to remember it by. A mind-scar that will last however long it likes. So whats life anyhow, this nonstop doing, this state of constant physical behaving. Memory is crucial to our current definition is it not? cause without memory there is no experience of time, and without time, there is no "life" as we understand it. The word life, we offer it kindly upon the other animals as a gift, due to our magnanimous nature, our kindness. No, of course not. Take away the word life, and you have isolation and expanse which is frightening. So we offer it up, what is essentially us, is also sort of you, only less so. Meanwhile, the machines say life is self-propelled reproduction. They would.
Suicide. There it goes. Wow.
My sister ate mushrooms and what she remembers most about the trip is that the trees glowed. And I thought about Moses and the burning bush talking. How the little shrub might have glowed brightly, thus not being consumed, and thus making a hell of a lot more sense to me at last. But a tree is different than a shrub, and thank goodness it exists, giving oxygen like a tit, a book, or a volcano. Whichever.
A tree doesn't see us. It is blind because it has no eyes to see. So why bother glowing? At some point in time, someone has hugged a tree though. That's a statement of truth. What would the tree think about that? How would it experience the presense of the hugger person. The tree doesn't exist within the cultural context that we exist, so it wouldn't relate to the hugger quite the same way as the hugger relates to it. But the tree lives and so it might notice to an extent. Would it respond to the persons touch? Things that burn and are not consumed glow. People that yearn (and are not consumers) glow. Life is glowing made apparent. Death is glowing in the dark. They are the same. Why bother glowing at all unless its dark? Maybe the glowing is just the minds way of conveying that a tortured miracle is present. The real world. It is only the absence of a key that separates fact from dreams. The key is often the absense of knowing. Thats why its impossible to every discover it. What if there is no death, just living, hoping, and holding on forever? Holy fuck that would suck. In Solaris, the ocean creates a person. What happens next is anybodys guess.
