what was bliss has gone amiss

May 6, 2008

Where is God when the world is ablaze?  Why did the Devil discard his angelic grace?  Why are people always bound in some craze?  What ever happened to this forsaken place?  This sacred race with a human face.

In our hands, our furred, finned and feathered friends meet their ends.  We don’t think we need to make amends, but that all depends on current social trends indicating that before something breaks, it bends.

We don’t like to think a thought about more than we think we’ve got.  The memory is out there, but it looks like we all forgot that a lazy person can’t be taught.  If you can’t beat them.  Greet them, but don’t get caught.


The Stonecutter’s Desire

March 6, 2008

I don’t know if you know this story or not.  I probably won’t tell it well.  I’m revisiting my deep memory for the words which construe it.  It’s significant enough to have stuck in my muddled mind all these years.  First time I read it was in high school, grade eleven I think.  I was branching out in terms of ingesting philosophy, good times.  Free to think.  Free to learn.  Free to experience.  That’s really all we’re supposed to do as teenagers, at least that’s what I think now. 

One caveat though – if I wanted to experience life on the wilder side, then I had to think and learn more than the tamer ones.  I had to earn the right to let loose and live free.  There’s a price for everything.  I’m still paying the price of mine.

Anyways, the stonecutter.  A Taoist tale.

There was a Stonecutter, who made a meager living from chiseling stone, toiling under a tropical sun.  There was a big kerfuffle one day, everyone who lived on the Stonecutter’s street stopped and bowed in reverent duty.  A royal procession, servants, slaves, soldiers and the Prince perched in a gondola on their shoulders.  The Stonecutter envied the Prince.  “What power has this Prince?  To make everyone stop and bow.  Happiness he must surely know.”

A simple wish and the Stonecutter became the Prince.  Endless processions, endless interruptions, endless bowing, but his happiness was not long lived.  For one day, during a particularly long procession march, the Prince experienced discomfort, sweat dripped from his brow.  He looked up at the sun-disc, blazing in the afternoon sky.  “What power has this Sun to make me seek shade, me who makes all bow before him?  What majesty and happiness the sun must know.”

A simple wish and the Prince became the Sun.  He blazed, he blared, he razed.  Every living thing cowered before him.  He knew happiness and majesty, but only for a while.  For one day he felt his power over living things dwindle away.  He looked down in rage.  A storm cloud.  “What power has this storm cloud?  Stronger than I who beat upon peasants and Princes alike?  What power this storm cloud must know.”

A simple wish and the Sun became the Storm Cloud.  He thundered, he poured, he soaked, flooded and destroyed.  He knew power, happiness, and majesty, but not for long.  For one day he felt himself dissipate, his power diminished.  “What is this that could be more powerful than I who blot the sun from the sky?”  A Strong Wind blew to him to infinity but not before a wish.

The Storm Cloud became the Strong Wind, the most powerful thing that could possibly be.  He blew, tormented and raged, destroying crops, houses, lives.  He knew power.  He knew happiness.  He knew majesty.  Until the day the Strong Wind came across something he could not budge, knock down or destroy.  “What is this that could be more powerful than I, the Wind?  Is it possible for something to be more powerful than I?”  The Mountain didn’t have much to say, so it just sat there and shrugged his boulders.  (I couldn’t resist!)

A simple wish and the Strong Wind became the Mountain.  And there he sat, basking in his power, his majesty and happiness, unmoving, unyielding, seemingly resilient against all things.  The most powerful thing that could possibly be was he, the Mountain.  One day the Mountain felt something strange, something was breaking him apart, breaking him down, piece by piece.  He rumbled, “What is this thing that could be more powerful than I, the greatest Mountain since the first drop of magma cooled?”  He looked down, so far down he had to squint. 

There it was, the most powerful thing that could possibly be – a Stonecutter.

 Wisdom from the sages of the ages.  Powerful, huh?


Obsolescence of the Soul

February 15, 2008

Less obscure, attack the issues.  So what’s going on in the world?  What crime, what misery should I dredge up for your perverse perusal or review?  What does it matter?  You were cut off in your car and your words.  No one wants to hear.  I want people to worship me, but I hate followers.  You can blaze a trail for so long, then realize you’re all alone.  No one to witness your glory, to recount your story.  In the end, it’s gory.  Sorry, I burnt all the worms and maggots.  You’ll need a couple faggots to stoke the fire.  Stroke the liar for the truth about me.  One either spews lies or blurts the truth.  No one ever blurts lies.  Good lesson for all would-be deceivers.  Blurt.  You’ve heard references to selling your soul, but have you ever heard of someone selling their spirit?  Spirit is priceless, invaluable.  A soul is nothing in comparison.  What’s more obscure than that?  Lots, I declare.


491 Words to Mine Self

February 2, 2008

Living in defiant compliance to the appliance of science.  Where does religion fit into the equation?  Does God have anything to do with religion?  What if the preachers are wrong and their concept of an omnipotent and ever present deity doesn’t jive with post-reality?  Why does wisdom begin with the ‘fear of God’?  Why do you need to fear your supposed creator?  It’s the preacher who wants you frightened, easier to persuade and control you when you’re afraid.  Preachers can’t stand up to logic because there is no logic in religion, no logic to God, no logic in a singularity.  It doesn’t make sense.  Have faith, my child – or so they told me.  I wonder…how strong would any Church be if it was built upon faith alone?  I simply don’t understand religion.  I am sorry, but don’t you have any of your own ideas?  Do you really live your life and think your thoughts as would a pious person?  Probably not.  I would say the pious person is a myth, another reflection on Socrates’ cave wall.  We all want to kill someone.  We all want to hate.  No one tells the truth all the time.  That’s why no one truly trusts anyone else.  We live in a world of deception, confusion and interference.  No wonder you seek for someone else to tell you how to be and what to do, but it’s not you and you can feel it.  The deep inner frustration of unfulfilment (I know it’s not a word, but I like the sound of it!).  You can’t wait for something you don’t know to happen, it might never be.  You have to take advantage of now.  Something (anything) is manifest quicker by work than by wish.  Or you can sit on an uncomfortable pew and lament about your pain.  The two worlds of self and God cannot co-exist.  They tear each other apart and the tatters are remnants of what we hoped we could be, but are not.  If everyone’s on stage, there couldn’t be an audience.  Do you understand what that means?


Once I had a bunch of moral fibre (but it went through my system pretty quick)

November 7, 2007

I don’t know the first thing about seconds.  The truth of the matter is I like throwing Frisbees to myself.  I love the dignity of the parabola.  The golden equation, the sum.  Some is too much.  Chocolate smiles too sweet to smudge with a touch.  Lick it, lump it, like it.  When did fudge become a mistake to make?  I rub my eyes full of glittering flies.  Blue.  Electric.  Eclectic, almost like electric if you don’t pay attention.  I’d be surprised if most people’s attention could span a puddle. 

We’re getting Googlephrenic.  The idea of disgoogleplexia is heightened by infinity plus one.  The numbers never end.  There is nothing but empty space.

I wonder if they’ll ever have McDonald’s Restaurant theme parks for all the little chubby kids.  Eat your shorts for good, nutritional Christian values.  It’s not supposed to make scents, but it stinks no matter how you slice it.  I recommend using your hands and ripping, but that doesn’t always work out for some of the saucier things in life. 

What can you do about googlephrenia?  I don’t know, Google it.  The spinning wheel, karmic in nature, stops on a dollar.  Bits of a puzzle up the barkers sleeve.  Religion is so medieval.  Shit.  Think of something else.   You know what I meme? 

Know, no, I mean, now, how brown cow?  If they made chocolate milk, I’d be sucking those teats ’til the farmers came home.  I don’t want to offend Hindus.  I rather like the art.  Beautiful intricate colours.  I don’t know anything about famine, except for the guilt I feel from cheating on the thirty-hour version.  Fuckin’ charity, what is it these days?  A corporation under a different guise. 

Shit stinks.  I think that’s why we call it shit.  We say so many things smell like shit, but they don’t really all smell exactly like shit, not even all shit smells the same.  That would be weird.  What would the world be like if we spoke with our mouths, but ate with our bums?  The food court would be a lot uglier. 

What does crude mean to you?  What does rude have to do with crude, other than the price we pay?  I’m on a plane, wake up snickers, I have a sweet suite to suit all my wants, but none of my needs.  All these weeds.  How is cleanliness close to godliness?  Priorities ward back, beckon thee to reckon thee. 

A yahoo is a beast of burden, a human slave to horses.  Is this what you want?  Horses are fleet of foot.  We’d be too, if we stayed on all fours.  That would be strange, huh?  Quadrupeds, eating out of our asses.  At least there’d be some time when we weren’t talking out of them.  Too many people talk shit.  Not a bad breath statement.  I might have something to say about that, but I locked all the workers out of my olfactory.  Commie bastards.  None of them can play the drums worth a ruble. 

America is going down with their dollar and sense.  If life without a gun in my face means death, then death it is, ’cause you can’t control anyone or anything for long.  If I’m going down because of you, I’m taking you too.  Ya dig? 

I once had a nightmare about digging holes.  Each hole was assigned an numeric value, more like an algebraic equation.  The nightmarish was that no matter how many holes I dug, I couldn’t surpass a certain sum.  I woke up sweaty and terrified.  I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.  2001 was on TV.  I should give that movie another shot.  I was in a poor frame of mind.  I shouldn’t live with regret, but that would mean I’d have to forget.  What?  Not sure.  No matter how much I forget, it never changes the regret.  Some things are carved into bone. 

Once I had a whole bunch of moral fibre, but it went through my system pretty quick.  That’s the title.  That’s how things are named in these here parts.

Funny thing is I don’t know what’s mine and what belongs to someone else.  I don’t know if plagiarism applies to a memory without footnotes, end notes, ibids or et als.  We’re all crazy.  We can’t agree on cake.  I like the icing that gives you a cocaine like sugar high.  You know the icing in which you can crunch the granules of sugar.  Still mostly empty space.  Hard to picture.  Harder to imagine.

All apologies and a thousand more, but I’m still going to slam the door.  I don’t want to see you anymore.  You’re a whole other whore.  None of this real.  Nothing I feel.  The opposite of love is indifference and I am finally indifferent.  It doesn’t matter, because matter is mostly empty space, like an excuse.  No substance other than forgetting.  I’ve lost count of the leaves in the trees, but the planes are lining up ninety seconds apart on the skyway.  Nothing is forever, not even energy as we know it. 

The truth of the matter is that I like white chocolate cake with my name scrawled in sweet icing sugar.  I have a big belly.  So there we are…word count 856.  666+190.  I wonder what the six-hundredth and sixty-sixth word was?  I should’ve paid attention.  My attention span is a short toothpick bridge.  Everything is a joke, especially this, that and the other thing, like an algebraic equation for holes, the variables are yours to tell.


Business & Religion

September 20, 2007

Moral question – what happens when someone’s religion interferes with your business?

For instance, I have a supplier who failed to meet their commitment to deliver to me by a certain time – first it was yesterday afternoon, then by 10am this morning, then by 1pm, then 2:30pm.  I gave them the benefit of the doubt and arrived at 3pm.

The job was still not finished and no one was actually working, most of the staff were busy praying.

I respect people’s choice to believe in something – I don’t care if it’s religion – but if the choice interferes with thier ability to fulfill business commitments, then how understanding should I be?  Not at all, some, a little bit, completely?

 They made to commitment to me.  They blew it because you were busy praying for ‘whatever’, presumably a better ‘metaphysical life’ or ‘afterlife’. 

Ironically, thier non-action in their ‘actual life’ may have a practical cost that will directly influence their material well-being.  I may be less inclined to use this supplier in the future, not because of any religious affiliation, but because their ‘word’ is unreliable.

 Funny someone who is pious enough to pray daily would inspire so little ‘faith’ in their ‘word’ (commitment).

Business and religion do NOT jive, unless you’re in the very profitable business of religion.

And this is what it boils down to – people don’t think they need to BE pious if they are ACTING pious.  Respect thy neighbor, only if thy neighbor is me!

You have to do more than put on a minx coat to be a minx…you know what I mean?!

How would you feel if someone failed to fulfill a commitment because they were busy experimenting with mathematics (or some other hard science unrelated to the business at hand)?

You’d be upset because it’s a waste of your time. 

And science MIGHT actually have something positive in store for humanity, the Universe or something.  I’m not convinced ‘religion’ can make the same positive claim!


Kill, Beat & Steal.

September 10, 2007

It occurred to me last night that any philosophy based on speculation is, at it’s most basic foundation,  a religion, insofar as it requires faith from the subscriber.

How is Kierkegaard’s existentialism different from Buddha’s Four Noble Truths?  Or Nietzsche’s Superman from Jesus Christ, Mohammed, or David?  All of these are ideas, the product of a general need to make sense of things.

Our realities are primarily based on speculation and faith.  We don’t know very much and it frightens us or we’re blissfully ignorant.  I don’t which is worse.  I’m often of the frame of mind where I seek & destroy my ignorance.  But this is the funny thing about ignorance – you don’t know what you don’t know.  You don’t know if what you know is right.  You can’t believe anyone.  Everything is subjective and most people live by ‘survival of the fittest’, so you had better look out for yourself.

Neo-conservatism, liberalism, fascism, communism – there’s a long list of political philosophies, all of them are based on social control (or lack thereof, laisse-faire!).  There are so many ideas to believe in.  Yet, experience has shown that none of them actually work.  Why?  We are inherently uncontrollable.  Fear is the only thing that can pacify us.

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”  Kennedy knew what he was talking about.  It was a direct reference to government use of fear (psychological operations) to exert control over populations.  Manufactured fear.  Fear is the one and only social control which ever really had any historic success, but it doesn’t usually last long and the end is violent for the scare mongerers.  When people are frightened for long periods of time, they have a tendency to stockpile anger and there comes a point when a critical mass of people boil over.

So fear doesn’t really work either, but it’s the best of a motley lot!

There are certain things we all agree upon, regardless of where we’re from.  It is unpleasant when someone in your family is killed.  It is unpleasant when you or someone in your family is maltreated.  It is unpleasant when you or someone in your family are robbed.  Everything else is open to regional (individual) interpretation.

How do you correct the historical injustices which resulted from killing, beating and stealing?  I don’t know.

But there’s another thing to consider.  The nucleus does not survive without the sound functioning of the cell.  The cell does not survive without the sound functioning of the host organism.  The host organism does not survive without the sound functioning of it’s environment.

There is a balance in the Universe.  We have to find it and maintain it.