15-11 (commentary on 15-11)

Mfs will say, oh that metaphor about meat? Yeah you just need meat.

You just need to eat. Or tend to your physical needs.

Yes, I know. I KNOW. I made the choice to not. Fuck you and your sense needs. Why do you stay so much on ground thinking it'll all be fine. I know you are good. Simple people let simple be.

Ok I ate. You want a recipe? This is my page my trash. Don't dumpster dive another man's treasure. Thank you. I appreciate your thoughts.

Comments

Rigor

Logic is the new magical thinking. Our ancestors died when they have decided that certain things mean the end of it, its death. When you are sad to the core and kills the self for it, it is the end of it. When sickness hit you, the plague is unstoppable, it is the end of it. When war or raging higher up men, powers you, it is the end of it. Until a logic man comes up and tells all of it, this taxonomical life. You are not sad, you have depression, it is just a fact and not the end of it. You are not sick to die, you have a sickness, it is just fact and not the end of it. You are not a soldier, it is just fact, and political boundaries can be changed by rigorous action, it is not the end of it. Logic is optimism at the not dying. It is just how we kept on living. It is how we increase the average age of living.

God help me

I am always trying to reach myself, trying to make sense of things because I know I am not smart. Why am I constantly reaching for my desires that at the same time I do not desire? I feel like I am locked within things that destroy me and ruin me and does not let me know what is the greater good, that fulfills the good too rather than excuse it. The people that loves their ego into non-stop fear fulfilling life of survival, non-stop survival. Right now I am inside my room and I am good. I have good music, and my health is at a soothe with a 7% menthol candy I suck. I had just taken a shower and my bed is at the coziest relationship with my skin. My relationships of myself and others denies itself of my desires are so far-fetched. I am delusional for thinking what is good. For thinking inputting good into people is good. I mean, I am not all holy. Even for action like murder, I think telling people to not murder or cause pain does not make me good. That's what I mean. I've give...

I lost my Card

My sister's hatred on me is like a breakfast orange juice. It's a common notice among people that western idea, or maybe like a cereal. But I am not that, of course I am not. Though declaring what I am to her idea is some kind of narcissistic birth. Maybe I have had lived as this narcissism, like a name. Like a hidden subtle name to be called out by irking faces. I think a sleep makes them a different. I've touched candles as they burn, and as it dries while I don't see it's residues, I feel it. Is that how we see people? Is that how we connect? I am just sleepy right now. I don't know how to get rid of myself. I've pretended like an out of work actor. I've method acted the way out this pretend. Pretend, then I'm pretentious. I can see the world's tries ignoring death except for their own. One, two, three is a disorganized pattern. Words are my tries. Words are my tries. I'll write my manifesto soon.

Pers

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