“I’m tired of this back-slapping ‘Isn’t humanity neat?’ bullshit. We’re a virus with shoes, okay? That’s all we are.”

I think people pray for miracles to a god of love and forgiveness, because they don’t want responsibility. We don’t want to deal with consequences, so we pray our way out by talking to something not tangible, something that can’t logically, and I mean that scientifically, hold us responsible. It’s easy to wipe your shit stained hands on a sheep’s wool or pray for a lion to protect you. What’s hard is accepting things for how they are, and trying to adapt or change to them ourselves. We’re scared of hell and death because we’ve never known the feeling of nothing. We hope for a heaven because just maybe, we feel like we deserve a worry free immortality because we feel like we’re generally good people. We don’t often go out of our way for positive change because we assume that as Billy Corgans’ proverbial rats in a cage, the wheel we’re running on is hinged and latched to the cage, nothings going anywhere nothings changing. Self fulfilling prophecies.


You plateau, like you do with drugs, or relationships. Which in itself is a sociological narcotic.

 I don’t care about the top, and if I like the drug I’m cautious enough to not plateau or bring anyone down with me. If there is an afterlife, I’d like a peaceful one, sure. But I don’t feel entitled to it. If I just cease to exist like the moth who dies, who am I to shake my fist at life. I’m insect, you’re an insect.

I don’t want to vote next year.

It’s like choosing who you want to shoot you in the crotch: a liar, a bigger liar, a richer liar, an inexperienced liar, an experienced liar, or the guy who’s currently lying to you. And did I mention they’re all drooling imbeciles?

Let me start off by saying, this was one of the most difficult assignments I’ve ever done. I take my iPod with me literally everywhere I go. Walking around school, around my house, it is always on me.  So going a week without it, (or any recorded music, for that matter) was like losing a seventh sense. I noticed quiet I hadn’t really noticed in a very long time. I could hear all the problems under the hood of my car that I could usually only feel. But out of all the media I had cut away from myself, music was the only thing that I really felt like I gained something major back when my week was over. I didn’t quite learn to adapt to doing things around the house like cleaning or yard-work, without music or a podcast. What really sucked was that I had just ordered two records and two movies from Amazon, and they came in during my abstention week. So the packages just sat there in my room, taunting me for a week. And you can bet I went straight to those records as soon as I was able to.

Surprisingly enough though, I didn’t have the same enthusiasm when it came to television. Most of the time, I have my TV on as background noise. I may not even be watching it necessarily, but would have it in the background while I did homework or surfed the web. I usually would even set it to a sleep timer and roll over when I’m ready to call it a night, so I could still hear it in the background. Something about the high pitch of the TV waves and the flickering light against the wall was…comforting. A lot of the time, I wouldn’t even be able to fall asleep without the TV on.  I think this stems from the fact that I’ve always had a TV in my rooms growing up, and would always fall asleep to it. So now as an adult, I never broke that habit; until now. Thanks to this experiment, I can turn off the screen before I go to sleep like a normal human being. I don’t even have it on in the background while I do other things anymore. Video games weren’t a problem for me, because even though I consider myself a hardcore gamer I haven’t had much time lately to play many games anyway. So that didn’t really change much. Now the internet was a different story. I quit facebook cold-turkey a few months ago, so social networking wasn’t a problem. However, I get most of my news from twitter so that took some getting used to. I didn’t really have any friends over at my house that week, because what was there really to do at my house (or theirs for that matter), when I couldn’t watch TV more movies or play any games. Most of them said pretty much the same thing when I explained the project; “Wow that sounds stupid.” I made it clear to them though, that I didn’t agree. Sure, it was difficult and annoying at times, but I saw the purpose of it and found it an interesting healthy exercise.

We are attached to our instant gratifying modern media; it’s symbiotic. We as a society think we can’t live without it, when really it can’t live without us continuing to consume it. We’ve gone so far away from sitting down to read a book or even a newspaper, because the world is just a click away from our fingertips. During this experiment, even I spent more time sleeping when I was bored instead of doing something productive or reading more than I could have. I could have spent that time doing art, writing, or trying to understand my fucking psychology homework. But I didn’t. Why? I became disoriented without all the media I was used to. It was almost like a culture shock. I became so accustomed to the hyper-blink technical events selling me shit, that I almost felt like I needed it.  As Adorno and Horkheimer noted, media uses the glamour of cinema to invent new desires for consumer goods, in which we buy and continue the vicious cycle. 

The producers of the media, the Rupert Murdoch’s of the world; they don’t see us as people, they see us as living profit. They put money into us; we filter it and give it back to them and some. It almost reminds me of the part of Fight Club where as part of project mayhem, Tyler Durden orders his men to destroy a piece of “Corporate Art”.  The idea of corporate art in itself is sort of a paradox. It isn’t from the art, it’s not expression, it’s an embodiment of corporations patronizing us. It’s like they’re saying “Go ahead and let the people think they have a say in something and have free expression, we’re going to bottle it up and sell it back to them anyways.” You have to let that sink in for a minute; we are being sold our own rebellion. And we aren’t only being sold rebellion; we are being sold and told our perception of the world around us. If a girl doesn’t look like the newest supermarket-rag train-wreck Hollywood starlet, she’s overweight. If you don’t make your music sound like everything else, it isn’t going to sell. And even though we know that these things inherently shouldn’t be true, they are.

Why? Because we let them. It’s more comfortable to be told what to think, what to like and wear and care about than to actually develop our own perceptions and opinions. And it’s near impossible to escape. The internet (they don’t call it “the web” for nothing) has sparked a new, more effective way of selling us shit. So many (including myself) are prone to becoming addicted to social networking, which may in itself be harmless, but has underlying issues when you look at it with your special They Live sunglasses. The ads on the sides of the facebook pages are one thing, but what about the social part of the networking? We are around our peers all day, at school and at work, who unintentionally help propagate the images they are also sold by the media. Then we get home and long onto facebook, and practically every person you know is all in one cramped room, talking about the newest celebrity “reality” show and new overproduced cash grab pop-tune.

And just a click away, we can watch our TV and movies on sites like Hulu and Netflix. Smart phone apps allow us to take our media with us wherever we go and receive updates or watch programs. We don’t even have to leave home anymore. But at the same time, as bad as it all is, it’s not the outlets fault. We can’t blame the internet itself or the TV; it’s the people running it. Even though we can get addicted to the internet or television, these same outlets can be used to educate us about the world, art, and science. They can even educate us about the very problems they can help distribute. So what it really boils down to is, becoming comfortable with seeing the world without dollar-bill sleeping masks over our eyes. Learning to be comfortable liking what WE like, and not what we’re told to like, and enjoying films and television as just entertainment, seeing the marketing for what it is, and taking it as that. You can’t be programmed when you’re already self-aware.

His Infernal Majesty

muhhshitsprime:

Cousin/Best Friend From young to old <3

I can see her in the sea-foam. How I wish she was, and was here with me now; there with me then. She’s a single pearl in the grains of sand on the beach. She is one with the sea, in majesty and grace. The ocean waves are like the waves in her dress, the waves in her hair. I can taste the salt in the air, on my lips, in her hair. The current drags the ground into its mouth, changing shape beneath our feet. Her hand rests upon my chest. We were always meant to be here. As far as my eyes can reach, there is sea. There is blue. As far as my eyes can reach, there is only you. The edge of the earth, is its most beautiful face. And you and she are one. You are equal. You are clear like her waters, and as deep as her depths. Luna pulls her currents, and her reflection rests in your eyes. I wait in her shallow, as I do in yours. You pull me in when I let myself float adrift. Is it her, or is it you? Your edge is effervescent. You’re ever flowing, ever changing, ever growing. Filling the depths, that are unknown to me. I can drown if I descend to deep. The pressure can crush me, her body fill my lungs. But what lies at the bottom, may be a treasure that only I can bear the key for.

The sky is dark, and so is the sea. Black as far as my eyes can see. 

Luna’s reflection is in your eyes, as your fingers lock with mine.

She is one with the sea.

Water drips from a pipe. It rusts, and we inhale. My Intended lacerations fall to the floor. I tried to forget. I vividly remember the first time. I vividly remember the chance I threw away. I vividly remember the desperation. I vividly remember the lovely redemption. A flawed saviour. A fallen angel. The stars in the sky are not made of fire. They are the souls of lovers, forever to be adored for all to see. Some shine brighter than the rest. I am a meteor. I am stone. I am on fire. My core is ice.

I am dirt.

I am cold.

I am warm.

I am loss.

I am hope.

I am God.

I am the Devil.

Somewhere right now, flowers lay in a gutter. A seat is empty. a vein is placid.

Somewhere right now, a man prays to any god that will listen; that he will be with someone to fill his heart with happiness and warmth. Somewhere right now, she lies in bed, tossing and turning, feeling his prayers but remaining apathetic.

Feed me truth, rather than false hope.

Feed me something.

I need to purge rather than heave dryly.

Blood remains, skin intact. Spring will not return. But nerves must feel something, and fire will suffice. I am a meteor. I am stone. I am on fire. My core is ice.

Cover me in snow.

From ashes I am born, not of dust, and to ashes I return.

And will be born again.

I am the phoenix. I am what seals your broken heart. I am your bloody valentine. I am taking control.

Where is my mantis queen? Where is the throne of her lovers severed heads? Her scepter is a spine. Her mouth-parts drip with syrup. She has taken back her kingdom in the sky.

Did I ever leave her room of smoke and mirrors? Is my dead skin not on the ground?

I have given up. I will become part of this room, her dungeon under her throne of heads.

I have let go.

I am renewed.

I rise from the ashes once again, a different beast.

The remaining stars will prove their orbit.

Is it more dangerous to let the bird free, or keep it caged? Shall I let it take control? Will it be destructive?

I feel it coming, another change; a new era. The voice in my left ear is yelling.