Degradation is the enemy of intensities, endless, delirious and pitiless pursuer of honest passions.
You must only concern yourself with your own head, writing what you hear, what you believe, what you know to be true even if it is a lie. Block out the world, block out the opinions of the people who suffer their insecurities upon you. This whole world is designed to drag you down and every rat in it just wants to be on top of the sinking ship.
Sit in front of that blank paper, that throbbing screen, sit around waiting for answers. Is this pain or is this love?
Also:
~A night when the emotional energy needed to do much of anything was too much to muster, I became maudlin:
We are all going to die. Is that supposed to be sad? Because I’m certainly having trouble seeing it that way. With so much to live for, I still find my self ambivalent, apathetic towards our inevitable, total destruction as a species. How long do we have, until our greed and our hatred reaches the point of pushing our buttons for atomic explosions? I’ve said it before and I’ll definitely say it again; we deserve it. It is no coincidence that I used the word inevitable because no matter what, we can’t stop it, we cannot stop ourselves. A runaway train; a confused giant lumbering around in a wounded frenzy, destroying everything underfoot in the interim. We want everything our own way and are unwilling to compromise with other people completely. Sure, we pretend to be tolerant and caring and respectful, but when it comes down to it, when it comes to the people who are truly in power it comes down to ridiculous inventions of their own; money, invisible lines marked out on maps, objects and books you pray with, the color of our skin. It’s all so distasteful and sordid, so pathetic… but absolutely true nonetheless. So our conflicting ideas about god, about civil liberties, about hairstyles and human rights will be the collective finger pushing the button engraved with the word annihilation.
Our human nature will undo all of humanity. ‘Destined to lose’ is a phrase that comes to mind.
Yet still, artists don’t give in to despair. We must never give ourselves up to abstract ghosts of future sufferings. We must focus and wring out every drop of life from this filthy rag before it is washed clean. Seeing beyond the apparent disgusting horror in the bleeding tumor is what makes us serious doctors. Surgeons with tools that should not be sterilized before use. So let’s operate on this dying patient, we cannot save it, but who knows, we might learn something worthwhile.
Bah— purge coming…
