I'm full of substance.

......................

i am drunk, forgive me for that.

I do not know where
to begin, for the beginning is no longer transparent for me. i once saw things
clearly, but time and the human mind have a way of distorting the truth. i wish
it were as simple as retelling an account of events, of actions in a place and
time, but the truth of a person, does not lie with merely their behaviors but
also their thoughts, feelings and circumstances. These forces combine to create
the will and the soul of an entity, in my case, a being fixed on survival, and
hoping as humans do, for a better future. Better, being defined by the
current status quo, better, being
defined as the ideal of progress, and of growth. i wish to grow. i wish to
survive. While i hold dear the idea that we as a species can achieve some form
of greatness, i know too the science that says we are nothing more than
processes, hard wired, like nothing else for survival of information, for
reproduction, and for sustained existence. While this may be a kind of truth, i
do not care. i am furious, and i am unsettled. i am a person, like no other and
yet as everyone else. i try, and strive to be good, and right, but i fear that
people in such a sea of others, are forsaken to sink deep into the ocean, the
chorus of other souls all striving for the same, the survival, the truth. What
is this truth? What is this thing that drives me, and is there something better
still to strive for? Is there something
paramount to our existence, something more than this? Do i speak of god? No. i
do not believe in an overlord whose fits and whim mirrors our own, in
simplicity, and in child like selfishness, demands our utmost attention, and
obedience. It is a foolish crutch, and it saddens me that so many cling to it.

Forgive me for the multitude of questions.

What is it then, what is this sea in which we all swim, and
tread water, and drown? Why am i so numb? What has caused my apathy? Where others have
succeeded i feel as though I have failed. i have fallen, and i cannot swim back
to the surface. What is this feeling? Why am i so very self destructive? Why cant
i answer my own questions? Why cant i work out the truth on my own? Why in such a sea, do I feel so alone? The truth, I think, lies in the fact that I am
old. My DNA is old, and my purpose is no longer adapted to the world in which
we live. Disaffected and disillusioned, and detached from the work I do to
survive, from the way in which I live. I am at heart, a hunter gatherer, outdated,
outmoded, and ready for the long silent sleep of death. Its the death of a
line of human, the end to an era of squabbles and foolishness.

Forgive me, Im high on painkillers.

It is the beginning
to an era of technocratic multiprocessing super beings, a world of human
computers, capable of dealing with millions of contacts, thousands of tasks,
and hundreds of feelings all at once. Then again, it may be just the beginning
of the end in a relatively short story, the end of our species et al, extinction.
Perhaps it wont be so very black and white and the human species will continue
on a path much the same as we have for thousands of years, but I really dont
see how we could. Still, who am I to make judgment calls on the future of a
species when the future of my life seems so very opaque? I need a cigarette now
so,

Forgive me, Im focusing with nicotine.

Outside my sliding door, on the concrete slab and brick
patio, covered in moss and snow where I smoke I built up a wall. The snow wall
only rises up to about my belly button, but it still for some silly childlike
reason impresses me. I look on it while wisps of smoke trail about my gloved
fingers and rise on the hot air expelled from my mouth. I want to make it tower
over me, and scrape at the sky. I want to build my snowy tower of Babel, only
to watch it melt in the spring. Strange
that I wish to create something enormous, and yet care little for its demise.
Still, standing there, in front of this mound I like to think of as a
fortification, I cant help but feel like it is some sort of metaphor for a
wall Ive built in me, in my life. Why am I holding myself back?

Forgive my distraction, Im listening to music.

Perhaps its not a wall but a cage. Locked in my head I
cant focus on anything for long, I become agitated, I falter and have to
reread lines over and over. The breaks and stops all blur together and my flow
is broken. I freeze, I lose the meaning in the passage, I lose myself in the
translation. I cannot tell you what I
mean, and I do not know where I am going with this save for the fact that I
need to write it, and the it is a thing in me that needs expression.

He took her to a movie, but so did I.

That has nothing to do with this, and still the lyric popped
out at me while I sit here and tap out my thoughts, so I felt I should make
note of it here. Maybe it does have something to do with all this. Survival
means mating, and I am in search of a mate. Is it really only about survival?
What is survival without meaning?

We are crafty now,
arent we.

Forgive me, Im copying and pasting this:

Early in our
hominid past, Homo hablis -- 'handy man' -- developed the ability to make
tools. Such a skill required them to plan ahead, to learn from mistakes, as
well as to learn from other individuals, perhaps in 'master-apprentice'
relationships. Psychologically this might have been the seed from which grew
our need to see purpose in not only man-made things but all things -- tools and
weapons were made for a purpose, so why not stars and rivers too?....

AH-HA! Perhaps that is it. Nothing has meaning, save for the
meaning we give it. If so I need to give things better meanings, Starting with my life.