Sadly enough there are philosophers in this world who have no questions to answer and nothing to theorize about All the thought provoking practices have apparently been consumed, have been done into extinction, devoured and digested and shat It is over Humanity has no mysteries left for the mysteries have no humanity and are therefore heartless and soulless and a waste of time
There is nothing left to discover The world is a big play but all the characters and all the scenes and all the settings and the interactions have been discovered as to ultimately rob us of the sense of journey
Now it's like we just exist here Perhaps to worship those who existed before us and discovered all things for us To stand in their shadow and bask in the knowing that we will never create a new poem or a new novel anymore than we will design a never before seen color
Only that which I have never seen before might qualify as new, and only to me, for the concept of new can never be universal
And the more new things I see, the less new things I see and the less value they bear Old people will agree to this And the rest, they will grow old one day Tomorrow When the senses will wear out and the ear will know that music is made out by the same vibration and the eye will know that all the colors are the same colors mixed differently
Ultimately the mind will understand that all ideas are the same idea told differently and heard differently and passed along differently
And the idea says that happiness starts with being and ends with thinking
or perhaps this is only how I think of it or how you hear it
Hey, look here's a boy who has no problem spending twelve hours all alone in a room with no human interaction whatsoever Oh, look he even enjoys it he wouldn't have it any other way Goddammit, we're an office here but if we were a jail... I think he'll be the kind of prisoner who throws his bucket of slops in the guard's face when the guard comes to free him from solitary confinement, you know, so he can spend more time in solitary confinement.
You're right. I wish we formed a jail here instead of an office and look upon this boy
Yeah, I hear you, bro I always wanted to be a prison wall Ever since I was built That's an entertained wall one who forms a prison there's really something to see there
I wish I was a bedroom wall D' you think the walls that form his bedroom are entertained? Better than us from the office?
This guy? You kidding? He probably does in bedroom the same thing he's doing here in the office Just sitting there, an absolute silence about him
How can he be so content about it?
Perhaps he doesn't know any better You know what I'd like? To be a wall of his mind.
I cannot recall the best advice I got from my father but the best advice I got from a man that’s not my father is to make friends with loneliness
If you and loneliness are enemies you’ll be lonely
but once you and loneliness are friends you’ll be solitary
The difference between loneliness and solitude is the difference between the naive kid who thinks one’s happiness depends upon others and the wise sage who knows that one’s happiness depends only on one’s self and one’s self alone.
she kept texting me links links links to posts on her law of attraction blog
Find Your Soulmate In Six Easy Steps
Meditations For Prosperity
Meditations For Prosperity Enhanced Edition
14 Visualization Techniques That Will Manifest The Perfect Life
How To Show Gratitude To The Universe In Order To Get More Of What You Want
Find Your Dream Job Using This 3 Step Meditation Formula Works 100%
Grab God’s Hand And Let It Pull You Out Of Debt. Here’s How
How To Listen To The Correct Inner Voice And Let It Guide You
How To Befriend And Make Love To Your Higher Self. A Step By Step Guide
“Leave me a like. Comment too. Thanks.”
“I need an account to do that,” I said. “I don’t have an account.”
“Well, make one.”
“I need an e-mail address to make an account.”
“Are you telling me you don’t have an e-mail address?”
“I forgot the password.”
“Oh, why do you have to be like that? You wouldn’t move a finger to help anyone. Ever! How can you live like that? You’re… uh, horrible!”
“Okay, listen. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll make an e-mail address and give you the password so you can make an account for me and leave likes and comments on every post. How about that?”
She didn’t answer.
And didn’t text me for a while
A few months later she sent me an invitation to her wedding.
I didn’t go.
After she got married she stopped posting on her blog Her husband was ten years older than her and they moved to the UK
A few months later a common friend mentioned she was having a baby and showed me pictures of it on the various social media sites that portrayed life at its absolute perfection
The account was full of pictures of quotes from self-help books
‘It’s never too late to be what you might have been.’
‘Dream positive or wake up!’
‘Shoot for the moon! Even if you miss you’ll still land among the stars.’
‘When things aren’t going well in your life scream to yourself STOP! and think of all the ways things can go right from then on.’
‘Remember that what you think and feel now creates your future!’
‘Doing it badly is infinity times better than not doing it.’
‘HOPE is the best medicine.’
‘Always ask yourself, what would the best version of myself do?’
‘Actions first, feelings later. Act on your values.’
And on and on.
And a few months later she divorced and left the UK Her girlfriends said the husband was abusive The girls who weren’t so close to her said that she cheated on him
the truth was probably somewhere in the middle
Now she was living on child support and returned to writing her blog Only this time the posts weren’t so much about the law of attraction and more about her life and what she’d been through and what d’ you know, they were actually good they were worth reading.
It worked!
the law of attraction worked
Her blog was finally popular it was getting likes and comments and followers
I read the latest post titled “When you’re going through hell, keep going” and it was good there was some real feeling behind each paragraph each word
She made it
and now I sit back and wait for the post titled “Nothing comes without a price” or something like that.
adopt a demon tonight and if you’re a writer she’ll help you become a great one even It is worth exposing yourself to her You won’t call her a demon, of course. That term is offensive You’ll refer to her as The Muse, your muse and she will visit you when the time is right and the time will be right when you start doing your thing You’ll see.
he watches the rain like it's alive but he feels less alive himself behind him the house turns dark its last light going off
don't turn back don't look back keep going ahead
and maybe another house and another wife will open up before you
or maybe there'll be another war coming and the nation will need your service again
this time the fear shall be less intense The first time someone points a gun at you you're terrified the second time's the same third forth and so on but eventually there comes a time when you run out of people to point guns at you
fifth
twelfth
forty-third
and none of them make you feel like her eyes watching from the window behind the curtains and no pulling of the trigger and no bang is like her voice screaming at the kid to go away, to not look
"A stranger! That's what the man outside is. And I'm calling the police if he keeps staring like that. DON'T! you dare look at him. Go to your room. Now."
What's a man when all the wars are over? A squirt gun against the sun.
His good hand, the one with whole and working fingers reached into an inner pocket of his uniform, found nothing.
He walked on And it rained on And there were no more wars
He had a big belly but he wasn't a fat man he wished he was a fat man
his daughter was four and she told him that he looked like a turtle born on the wrong side of its shell
and mother laughed. He didn't.
Surely he would have if the swelling wasn't a terminal disease a type of cancer of the stomach and guts whose name he struggled very hard to forget but the regular visits to the doctor kept reminding him
his wife kept laughing she said that laughing is the key the best healing Laughter and love lots and lots of love Love
but the other night when he tucked the little girl in bed and kissed her forehead and said "I love you." she poked her tongue at him and said "I don't! You ugly and weird. I love mommy and puppy Bran. Good night." And she put her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.
It was I who went to the shelter and brought puppy Bran home, he though as he closed the door, tears blurring his vision He didn't go into the bedroom where his wife was probably asleep
he went into the bathroom vomited washed his face rinsed his mouth went into the kitchen and grabbed the leash went outside and took puppy Bran for a walk
the moon lighted their path and the shadow of his big, swollen belly covered all of puppy Bran
Daydreaming as a profession 