Refusal To Pra(y)se | Irrational, All Too Irrational (Thought Is Dead)

Awaiting something, anything, nothing; "fruitful thinking" (define: fruitful - re) relativism and perspective) appears impossible. Superficial planning, however, is entirely conceivable.

The mania has subsided temporarily. To be sure, thought shapes and symbols whir elliptically in my mind, this calm is simply a relative reprieve from the typical racing. Is there some idea to escape this near-sickening and mostly incessant evil? Both day and night bring me the gift of a cruel marriage - unabating and hurried thinking united with the loudest of silences. White noise tickles my ears, while the predictably erratic racing of thoughts takes place. This friend of mine, psychosis, accompanies me everywhere - for wherever I go, there I am. 

Concerning esoteric Christianity; the understanding that the spheres are indeed harmonious is encouraged. If I could yell loudly into the sky, would Creator feel the globes tremble above? The pauses between divine melodies are an opportunity for surrender and a reprieve from [everything]. When the mind races, shouting the whispers of insanity, does the melody wholly break? Is this why we love harmonic minors? 

Perhaps least (most) importantly, Michif and Latin language study. Every moment, both waking and not-so-waking (lately, mostly the latter), an opportunity to either kill myself or develop an affection for life's pleasures (language study as personal development and self-on-self psychotherapy). Though darkness consumes absolutely, it may become the vessel through which I shall begin to appreciate life. Thought: Creator is both suffering and freedom from suffering.

- Z

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“A phenomenon that a number of people have noted while in deep depression is the sense of being accompanied by a second self — a wraithlike observer who, not sharing the dementia of his double, is able to watch with dispassionate curiosity as his companion struggles against the oncoming disaster, or decides to embrace it. There is a theatrical quality about all this, and during the next several days, as I went about stolidly preparing for extinction, I couldn't shake off a sense of melodrama — a melodrama in which I, the victim-to-be of self-murder, was both the solitary actor and lone member of the audience.”

- William Styron

Dance Me To The End Of The End | Myth Of The Giv(ing)

To err and commit evil, is to engage with both a great freedom and a great tragedy. Reconsider: transcendental philosophy vs. analytic philosophy, as a means to explain the sin (error) of the thinker. The architectural plans of these distinct set of ideas (to the kids, these may appear one and the same - is not to transcend, to analyze, in some way? perhaps the kids are right here - I'm losing track of what is important in my search for the real/a real), must assume the validity and stability of their parts. The vaguest of these, conditions of possibility of something. To be frank, I feel much of the same towards human existence: possibility of something. Something --- unclear and yet to be revealed.

May I demand these qualities (validity and stability)? Pure reason suggests so; perhaps, a combination of both approaches would be most useful in its examination and comprehension. The uniformity of motives and voluntary actions, to be understood as a simulation of cause and effect (?) If the motive (belief/cause), does not presuppose voluntary action (effect/maneuver), we may thus begin a hopefully relevant examination of "faith without works is dead" in relation to "take the action, and the faith shall follow" (aforementioned Fido logic).

Brain muddled with terms from a dead language. I swear, if I hear one more dolt use a priori incorrectly, a swift return to apathy/inaction shall soon follow (abilify/lamotrigine cocktail). Not interested in conducting the above mentioned analysis. This is partly due to said muddling, but mostly due to an overwhelming reticence to get involved with anything with any significant degree of commitment.

Praying to the pharmaceutical G-O-D to relieve me of the burden of self. To be sure, there is better living through chemistry.

Am I going crazy? Hedonism conceptualized as antithetical to suicidal ideation, we shall see (look into this with passion and zeal, or contemplate letting it die - hehe).

- Z

What If I'm Miserable | Baudrillard Blues

Deconstructing myths surrounding existential woes vis-a-vis identity/character development in terms of emotional (dis)regulation --- Indeed, an inability to isolate the process of the real; psychosomatic medicine as a spiritual condition - human connection as ideology. 

How does the logic of obedience presuppose an identification/comprehension of Creator (Creator as true connection/emotional intimacy imbedded in the physical plane of existence)? If blind disbelief is as dangerous as blind faith, it follows that the danger lies in the inefficacy of blindness in thought. This is all good, however, how can thought/belief/conviction/action take place without a previously experienced divine connection? F.F. would suggest that the argumentative framework of intellectualized spirituality inherently pollutes any opportunity (perhaps resulting in total obfuscation) for spiritual/emotional/mental growth. (action --- faith)

I find myself explaining away past happenstances as "god-shots". Escaping physical death is at the forefront in this category, which itself contains a great deal of emotional and philosophical material, quantified in terms of DSM mumbo-jumbo. However, if Creator did not do away with the blessing of my life - permanent marker on the back of my neck, hairspray in hand - in those moments, how then do I come to consider this dance once more? Man's moral sins catch up to me, and I find myself barren and void of joy. Walking this back, theological assessments (fundamental to the formation of logic), can be falsified, to be sure. These falsehoods are ultimately rooted in my inability to comprehend that which is not visible. To be reconsidered: visibility as theology.

The visibility of darkness is not innately problematic, in fact it serves the purpose of relieving sorrow. Steeped in malaise, identity ("disability" "sickness" "mood disorder") is an insoluble dilemma. The intention guiding this entry seems irrelevant and ultimately fruitless in light of Augustine's methods on miracles. Am I the rustic or the astronomer? Shall the shooting star that is life come forth and reveal its absolute worth?

Until then, darkness pervades. Apathy, as opposed to despondency, seems the likeliest predecessor to physical death, which in turn, seems entirely unproblematic. Defeat - scratch that - serenity, is the truest consummation of the spirit.

Think, think, think. Grave (?) thoughts on a sunny day. Sanity escapes me, once more.

- Z

You are the silence in between

Goodness, how this writing depot had slipped my mind! Left to shrivel and slide into the abyss of the internet (especially relevant considering the seemingly inescapable SOPA discussion), my words and images were essentially laid to rest. I've embraced the present moment as the time to throw myself back into this narcissistic and self-indulgent think piece. 

I commit to bettering myself in all ways, and in special regards to this blog: take photos, recommence writing and drawing, etc.

Much love!

-Z

Asian shit and other ink blots

Today, in a near-spontaneous moment, I was tattooed again. I shall elaborate. Ever since the day I set up my first tattoo consultation, I have tossed away my misconceived notion of tattooing as a spontaneous and impulsive action. In coming-of-age movies and on prime time television, actors and actresses make the 'drunken mistake' of getting some sort of Asian shit tattooed on them. This, in turn, led me to buy into this view on tattooing. The reality that I've encountered is a little different. If a consultation is necessary, a few weeks to a few months may be required to have one (depending on which parlor you frequent, and what time of the year), and once consulted, it may take another month or two to actually come in and 'do the deed' (so to speak).

So where does this 'near-spontaneity' come into play? On thursday (yes, three days ago), I was finishing up what may very well be the briefest tattoo consultation in the history of tattooing, when I was told that there was an opening on Saturday (yes, today) if that suited me. Weighing my options, I strode into this (I apologize for the redundancy of the phrase) 'near-spontaneity' with happiness and relatively little trepidation. I regret nothing (yet - let us be frank), and have already begun debating when is the most logical and sane time to walk down those steps and shell out my scrounged retail profits on more permanent artwork.

(as a quick aside, and as some form of explanation, while the beautiful and talented artist Carly was tattooing my forearm, this song came up on her playlist and, quite determined to listen to it once I was home and in a less compromising situation, I forced myself to remember the phrase 'lose your soul'. success, I suppose.) 

A few quick words on this photograph, I took it on a lovely and (relatively) mild winter day, and it remains my favourite photo that I've ever taken. I don't know what it is, but I bloody love it. Self-flattery out of the way, lately I have been feeling like these deceased spider bodies. I thought I had more to say on the matter, but that's all so I suppose I shall end on that note.
-Z

Nunneries & Co.

I've been talking a lot lately, mostly with myself, but also a fair amount with my soul sister Christine. Talking to someone else is often uplifting and inspiring, but I've found this to be seldom true when discussing thoughts and feelings with myself. The more I analyze my behaviours, thoughts, feelings, reactions, dreams, etc., the more I drive myself crazy. The logical answer would seem to be to develop my interpersonal relationships and acquire and endeavor more hobbies. Logical, yes. Have I been doing this? no. It was a little over a year ago that I decided to take a vow of celibacy. I was the vower, the witness, and the ceremony presider.

I am far too lazy at the moment to draw up eloquent yet evasive conclusions on the experience, so let me just say this: I'm awesome, so obviously a year with myself was both thrilling and enlightening. I feel ready to make another commitment. So, in true Zozo style, I've decided to make plans to keep making plans. Whether these plans include re-committing myself to celibacy and/or joining a convent, or becoming an advantageous young woman, I will always be making plans.
-Z