Looking Up an Ex on Facebook

I wonder what __________ is up to lately?

Stupid Facebook search, how are you going to show me all the __________s in the world except the one I know?

How is Bing able to find her profile and you can't? It's fucking BING, for chrissake...

Wow. She looks happy. Why aren't I that happy?

Should I friend her? I shouldn't friend her. Should I?

I'm gonna friend her.

Oh, that's right. I sent her a request two years ago.

Guess that's a "no," then.

I think I'll cancel the request. Can you do that?

Yeah. Just have to remember not to try again in two years.

Damn, she looks like she's really doing well. What's her relationship status?

I shouldn't look for it.

Fuck, where is it?

I guess she hasn't listed it. Probably a smart move.

I'm a dick. I was a dick. But I'm better now.

Am I? Probably not.

Don't re-send a friend request. Don't re-send a friend request. Don't re-send a friend request.

Fuck, why did I do this?

She looks really good. Really, really good.



I gotta stop this. This isn't healthy.

Can I look at her photos? I can.

I shouldn't.

Yep, she looks really good in every one of these photos.

Who's that guy? Fuck that guy. Is he tagged? No.

Probably for the best. Fucking dick. I hate that guy.

Don't re-send a friend request.



What was wrong with me? Is it still wrong with me?

I really hate that guy. Whoever he is.

Another guy? What the fu—

Oh, these are a couple of years old. She could be single by now, right?

Right?

I should try to friend her again.

No, I shouldn't.

Shit, I suck. I'm an idiot.

Don't re-send a friend request. Don't do it. Don't you fucking dare do it.

I'm gonna do it.

No, I'm not.

Ugh.

I already looked at all these photos.

I'm gonna read her status updates. All of them.

This is insane. I hate myself so much right now.

Bitch. You know what I should do? I should look for people that look like her on Redtube, that's what I should do.

Don't cry, dammit. Don't you fucking dare.

There's no way to search for "someone who looks like __________" on Redtube. Nor is there a way to search for "anything to stop me from feeling regret."

Maybe if I Google it.

Wow, that's a lot of useless "How To"s. I don't have the time to read this sappy crap.

I think I'll go buy a bottle of whiskey and watch Batman cartoons until I pass out.

Best idea of the night, right there.

Xavi, Xavi, why have you forsaken me?

Why is there such a thing as that?
Have I considered it? Certainly. Who hasn't?
It's hard to live life without considering the alternative.
But to do it? To make a plan and carry it out,
How could you? I miss you.
It's triggered by anything from
Chinese food to TV shows
I knew you loved, and I loved too,
Loved you, in that way brothers do
And brothers we could have been,
Were, in a way. There was closeness,
But not enough. Not enough for me
To know what tortured you,
Which in turn now tortures me.
How could you?
The cursor blinks at me,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
Are you waiting?
We needed you here.
Still do. Always will.
The world is heavier without your spirit.

Have you ever been the only sane man in the asylum
on the wrong side of the bars.
That's what it's like living in this world.
I wanna see a child kill a grown man, see 'im grow up
To a lone man. Put on a slow jam and slow dance
To the romance of boy meets world
Like boy, he's whirled
Around the globe enough times to know that nobody tries
And everybody lies when they sayin' they be prayin' for ya.
Maybe once but twice is too much effort's what I'm sayin'
No bluff. Go to the trouble if you wanna know what's up,
Or it'll find you first and leave you dying of thirst
from no love.
God is there no God, no God is there hope of
Is there hope of
hope of
hope of
There is no
What?
There is no hope of
Everything that you've ever been promised
The world welcomes no one to its gate
And that's honest.
Kill the old to make room for the new
The new who?
The new you, and please kill me, too
Better dead than indebted to tradition
Incessant counter-intuition
Counter to the founders, numbers,
They're just bouncers keeping us in malnutrition
In the streets livin' like men speak,
From one breath to the next, one birth to the death
One hearse to the next, bleak minutes missin'
Kissin' vultures on the beak, beggin' for a little nibble
Snackin' till there's only bones left
Only bones left.
Gotta eat and pay the rent and all the rest
And only bones left.
Only bones left.
Don't you know they own your time and all the rest?
And only bones left.

I'm smart but I'm not smart enough.

Not smart enough for what?

For the task ahead of me.

And what task is that?

Why, the same task facing every human being alive today.  Keeping the human species going as long as possible, at least another couple thousand years, if we can.

Why do you say that?

Despite the fact that the Cold War died down quite some time ago, the big thing that made us afraid the whole time is still there.  There are enough bombs to wipe us all off the face of the earth.  And we have to make sure that doesn't happen.

And how are you going to make sure that doesn't happen?

I don't know.  Like I said, I'm not smart enough.  I just hope that, collectively, we are.

...

The secret is culture.  Culture, and intellect, are unique among evolutionary traits.  Sharp teeth, thick skin, camouflage, all of these things serve a specific evolutionary purpose.  But our brains?  Our intellect?  They have managed to get us ahead in the food chain terms of things, but the evolutionary purpose of intellect and society is much harder to get your head around than that for something like claws, or eyes.

...

The idea is that culture, like anything else life engages in, is an evolutionary mechanism.  Societal constructs of things like attractiveness help favorable traits to persist, and the most favorable evolutionary trait in a human, any human, is the mind more than the body.  When a culture loses sight of this, it loses evolutionary ground and falls within a few generations behind those who recognize the value of creativity and abstract thought enough to find it sexy.

...

I want to be sexy, is what I'm saying.

Everyone on American television is so thin and sexy and in shape, but statistics say that Americans aren't. How many of us watch TV living vicariously through our favorite TV characters? We sit in dark rooms with flickering screens watching the two dimensional exploits of our better selves through the lens of bullshit glamor and sensationalist fiction and tolerate our pathetic, satiated lives because we have these amazing, sexy, heroic lives to watch and imagine they were our own. If any conspiracy ever was, there was one to dilute the value of our culture with so much drivel and loquacious verbal vomit that our minds would be reduced to overflowing sewers in a torrential downpour of horrendous intellectual waste, with no capacity left to realize how fucked we're getting.

State of the Union, 2012.

But it's terrible because it's a death of the individual creativity that is at stake, the atrophy of the imagination.  Terms like "Culture War" or the "Death of our Culture" only bear relevance to me insomuch as "American Culture" can come to be something respected in future history, known for its reason and open-minded democracy more than its superstitious hatred and cognitively dissonant derision for the poor, more for its love of civil rights and personal liberties than its tendency for faith-derived bickering.  What a waste of time.  What a waste of people.  Don't we realize how important the history is that we're creating?

I refuse to believe that my anxiety and my depression
Are a result of not having enough pills in my diet.
I reject the notion that we are a civilized society
That can kill remotely from half a world away
But won't give healthcare to its own people.
I despise hypocrites declaring Christ the king of this nation
Who balk at charity, forgiveness, fairness, love.
I want to live in a world where faith
Is simply what you believe,
Not what you use to justify your hate.
I am not depressed because of a chemical imbalance.
We are depressed because we share the weighty burden
Of a whole world of bullshit on our shoulders,
Have been indoctrinated into a malignant system
Of self-interested falsehood,
Idolatrous worship of efficiency,
The overvaluing of money

And undervaluing of value.

We are depressed because they taught us the rules

And broke them as we watched.

We all are guilty

Who built up beneath ourselves

Foundations only of forebear's opinion.

I refuse to believe we are anything less than children of God

Or anything more than the most recent emergence from protoplasmic goop,

That being an animal and possessing humanity are mutually exclusive.

I reject that right and wrong are mandated from on high,

I reject that religion holds a monopoly on morality.

God or no God, we are spirited and spiritual beings.

I do not feel anxiety because something is wrong with me.

I feel anxiety because something is wrong with everything else.

The problem (and at the same time the cool thing) with the Occupy Wall Street movement was that it was partially inspired by and modeled after the ultra-democratic ironically intellectual swilling chaos that is the hacktivist collective.
Now a lack of a strong centered power structure for an anonymous web organization of vigilantes and moral crusaders is fascinating, but for a real, legitimate MOVEMENT there is actual leadership required. And, well, we slacktivists don't really want to step up to that degree and risk going to jail or getting shot or firebombed or something that always happens to real activist leaders. Or, like, hunger strikes and stuff. Who would want to have to handle that?
And that lack of a driving center is what will topple the movement—all you guys need is a party. They told you to get jobs, so take theirs (in DC). That's the way.

Jesus wept

I was wondering where people were getting all of this from, but then I came across this newest version of the New Testament that is being circulated. Here are some of the highlights:

“And verily, a company that is incorporated from many parts shall be considered a person! And if the Job Creators, or JOB-WEHs, deign to allow the least of these, their brethren, into the kingdom of heaven, it will be to collect their trash.”

“A woman's body is a sacred and holy thing, and as such its health should be left to God and God only,” declared Jesus from atop his dinosaur steed as he fire-bombed a family planning center, “because it honestly grosses men out.”

“A man that lies with a man is an abomination; a man that lies with a boy is … forgivable,” said the Lord as he cast a stone at a homosexual. “Remember when Judas kissed me? Yuck!”

“He who tries to help the poor of his nation instead of letting them help themselves is an enemy to God, and must be stopped.”

“The poverty, suffering, and starvation of your brothers and sisters that are less fortunate than you is totally not your problem,” explained Jesus as he showed the moneylenders to their booth, “After all, they can always pray for more money.”
“Indeed!” agreed a moneylender with a wink, “We certainly 'preyed' to get ours!”
And, lo! they did laugh heartily.

“Nobama 2012.”

Jesus wept.

One thing dystopian novelists like Huxley and Orwell never anticipated was the Internet, its breadth of scope and the way it has changed the nature of discourse, how we receive and whether we believe information or misinformation.

As such, it may very well be that the one thing that will keep their horrific visions of the future from coming true is the free exchange of information on the Internet.

The Internet will come to be recognized as the single most important factor in the way that democracy evolves and becomes an ever greater and freer system of governance.

Knowledge is power, and with the Internet, every man is a king.

It's just one of those things. You get a booty call from some cougar you were banging months before, go home for a handful of condoms, get over there, not quite as drunk as she is but almost, and you can't get it up because you realize she's way too old for you. The wrinkles and age spots stand out to you, the sagging catches your eye, and you know it's not HER fault, but it just makes your boy SAG and no amount of convincing will change his mind.

Okay, that's not fair, there's been a number of occasions in which I couldn't "perform," but I chalk it up to "performance anxiety." This time, though, I just couldn't help seeing the wrinkles and age spots and I try to tell myself I'm not a shallow person, but I totally am. What does that mean anyway? SHALLOW.

IF I like someone because she's genetically endowed with big tits and a tight ass, I'm shallow. IF I like someone because she's genetically endowed with great intellect and the capacity for a good personality, I'm NOT shallow. But aren't they both kind of the luck of the draw? Aren't they both in the jackpot?

Though some men find intelligent women intimidating. My self esteem is too good for that. I can accept an intelligent woman. But it's only because I'm (or would like to consider myself to be) an intelligent man. No intimidation there, I say, because you can be as smart as you want. I'm smart too, more often than not smarter.

But that's my hubris, my pride. Maybe if I met a woman who could convince me she was smarter than I was, I WOULD be intimidated. Actually, terrified. I do have a huge ego to take into account, but I haven't met a man yet who could convince me he is smarter than me. I see congressmen way dumber than I am, most of them actually, but they had the good fortune of, well, having a fortune, so they're congressmen and I'm nobody.

Obama actually is definitely smarter than me. One of the smarter presidents we've had in awhile, and thank God for that.

But the rest of these fuckers look like idiots to me. I'm a liberal, not a registered democrat because fuck that, but I'd call myself a liberal, at least a social liberal. I used to be a fiscal conservative, but now I'm not sure how to treat the economy. Seems to me like the "free market" thing isn't working out too great for most of us, and frankly the right has alienated me by having such medieval views on everything social, contradicting themselves at every turn when they claim to want "small government" and "personal liberties" and then saying "fuck you such-and-such a group that want rights." Yeah, so there's no way I'm siding with them if they're gonna be like that.

And there's no way I can fuck that cougar. I've tried, believe me have I tried, and it's not happening. Almost twice my age, and when we first met and I was too drunk to tell it was pretty much perfect. It worked out fine. Then we spent time in daylight, and I don't want to be a dick, I realize that I will get old someday too and twenty-somethings will have a hard time fucking ME, but I couldn't help but notice the years on her, the years she had on ME. And that's fine, seriously, and I wished I could have fucked her until we both came, a few times, but I really seem to need someone closer to my own age to be that turned on.

And I guess that's a good thing, it means I don't have an Oedipal complex (do you have to capitalize that?) or anything. But damn was SHE ever disappointed, and it sucks to disappoint people. People kind of rock, for as much as they totally suck, and it's a bummer to disappoint one of them.

And let me be clear, she does not gross me out, at all. She does turn ME on, and my dick got hard in intervals, when I was caught up in the moment, but when shit came down to it my boy backed right the fuck out of there. I'll admit, it might not be a lay I'd be proud of my whole life, and those are usually the ones that I try to dive into and my dick's like "No fuckin' way, dude, get outta here," because shockingly my dick might be smarter than my brain. But I'M MY BRAIN GODDAMMIT so why doesn't the dick obey me? And why is it smarter and more discerning than I am? Makes no fucking sense, does it?

But that's what's up.

I thank my lucky stars that this is a largely anonymous blog that gets read by nobody. Hopefully it's uninteresting to anybody but me, so they won't be fascinated enough to find out who the fuck couldn't get their dick hard for a cougar, but actually it doesn't even remotely matter.

"Limp-dicked motherfucker," or attempted?

(un)Common(non)Sense

Ramblings On: Snippets, Fragments, Rants, and Howls

The only methodology my spiritual constitution agrees with is the creation of such incomplete nigh-nothings with barely a thing to say but that try to say it so poignantly. God damn my nature, god damn my society, ADHD fed into by the techno-soundbite generation with only enough focus to be distracted for hours on end and too much to worry about in this cruel universe to bother worrying at all anymore. Yes, I know there is famine and genocide, I know AIDS is spreading like a wildfire and there was a time when I cared and felt compassion but there is really nothing I can do, really nothing that any of us can do unless we have the medical-biological or economic or socio-political understanding needed to provide a cure, a solution, a resolution to any of these things but I'm no god and neither are you, neither is anybody. So why bother fretting what can't be helped? Protesters and activists endeavor to "raise awareness" and it makes them feel better I suppose but we're fucking aware already, and being aware changes nothing, ever; knowing that there are child soldiers doesn't make them cease to be, feeling sorry for people an ocean and two worlds away doesn't help them any. Sure, you can raise money to send to them but that's the hollowest gesture you can make, to throw money at them, saying "We have more of these meaningless symbols of status than we need, so here's five bucks for you to use the next time marauders torch your village and rape your daughters." Right. Real helpful. Do I have an alternative solution? No, of course I don't, I'm not Moses or Gandhi or some shit. I'm just complaining about all these people complaining about things they won't change—and yes that makes me one of those people. "Down with this sort of thing!" And that's why the sensible majority of us resign ourselves to foodyism, video games, underground music hipsterocracies and film snobbery because distraction is the only viable option to keep absolute insanity at bay. We know the world is a mad and maddening place and we have to shield ourselves from that or we lose ourselves and our minds as our thoughts come to reflect the thoughtlessness of reality and our sense conforms to the nonsense that is the turning square-edged wheel of the universe. You can't make me be a better person because you don't even know what a better person is, righteousness is a bitter fiction dreamt up by idealists who feared to acknowledge the darkness spun into the helices of their DNA like wool in an afghan.
There is a collective subconscious emerging from the post-pre-intellectual wonder that is the internet community which accepts and embraces this darkness and takes it full circle to an unapologetic universal hatred that does not exclude itself, a hatred in the name of which much good can be accomplished because it is a hatred so deep that it hates hatred itself, nods to this irony and then laughs at it while carrying it out. They call it Anonymous, and I can't think of a more appropriately inappropriate name for such a thing for when I read or hear about it I call it Anonymous but know that really it is Myself, you know it is Yourself, thoughts you nursed in private corners of your mind condemned as hellish and evil but to which you cannot deny some credibility. That same throbbing vein runs through the heart of the world and as they speak it you hear it as an echo of a latent voice in the back of yourself which you try to push aside or push down in vain, because here it is rising up from somewhere else, circling around from where you turned your back on it to come and confront your very face. That is Anonymous, and we know its true name but won't acknowledge that it is Ours.

First, become an excellent Reader. After that there is little one cannot learn.
To learn to Learn, to be taught to Self-Teach, is the greatest lesson next to Life itself.
Mastery of the elements defines humanity's history; mastery of the self will define its future. Animal became human, as unlikely an apotheosis as any, and rather than Fall backwards into the ignorant Paradise of Eden's moral indifference we must stride forward, ubermensch, to uncover the Infinite Divinity of Self, to become the Gods of our own little worlds.
We are Creators of Meaning; without us Meaningless Creation is something worth less than Nothing.
Knowledge Unknown is the only Frontier.

welcome to my new digital diary know that i know its high but just know that these words are alive to me and jive to me i aint fuckin round dont say it aint time for me i might just be the motherfucker that oedipus couldnt strive to be the highest peak i might just speak for hidin meek and bidin speech and makin like im live and bleak the lives we speak dont vibe with me so die and see what life can be

OCCUPY:
I. To employ, make use of.
1. trans. To keep busy, engage, employ (a person, or the mind, attention, etc.)
2.
a. To employ oneself in, engage in, practise, perform; to follow or ply as one's business or occupation.
b. To be busy or employed (in some capacity); to exercise one's craft or function; to practise; to do business, to work.
...
II. To be in, to take possession of.
5.
a. trans. To hold possession of; to have in one's possession or power; to hold (a position, office, or privilege).
b. trans. To live in and use (a place) as its tenant or regular inhabitant; to inhabit; to stay or lodge in.
c. intr. To hold possession or office; to dwell, reside; to stay, abide.
...
6.
d. To gain access to and remain in (a building, etc.) or on (a piece of land), without authority, as a form of protest.
7. To take up, use up, fill (space, time, etc.); to be situated, stationed, or seated at or in, to be at or in (a place, position, etc.).
8.
a. trans. To have sexual intercourse or relations with.

They've been fucking us so long it's about time
It's about Time, Time passed in past and wasted
Drunk on moments that fall finitely but seem not so
It's easy to look back, but looking forward
I have to wonder if all this, this sudden uprise
Of compassion and active insistent knowing, attention
Calling out and demanding with unified reprimand
If all this will be another magnificent failure
Lulled back to fat complacency with promises
That it'll all be resolved in the update of the new gadget
Or game or revamped piece of shit franchise, Newer
They say Newer is Better amd we tend to belive what we're told
Most of the time, so why not now? What is special
In the internet democracy of data, what are questions
That sunder the fossilized bones of this which,
In Memory, has always held us erect; misplaced Trust
Heredity, is stupidity genetic or do we insist on teaching it
And what of flaws which make one smarter than another, or two
Do we embrace or do we ask, What The Fuck?
The What more than The Fuck, but fucking Fuck is what
Has lasted so the soreness in our nuts and cunts
Makes us forsake the fucking What and Fuck ourselves
Right up the butt. So ask and though ye not recieve
Ask again until the asking asks itself and frees
Us up for asking Why The Fuck.

Is it always best to forgive? Or do some people need to feel your resentment to justify their own guilt?
If I say "Fuck you, you bastard" you don't have to tell it to yourself. If I don't, if I say it's okay, then who is there to hold you accountable but yourself?
It's so much easier to fight someone else than fight yourself.

O, how ludicrous!
It's been too long since I've seen your face around
It's been too long I've been in this fuckin' town
A few drinks won't ever relieve the burden that is me, the constant dweller in my soul that is an anchor to all that is what is not. I hate that bastard, the smartass punk bitch that holds me back from every glorious moment, that ever cautious analytical self that cripples the bold alpha male cock insecure cum centered industry of the sex drive... God is it disgusting or just plain me, why can't we all accept our mammalian sex drives and fuck the shit out of each other like it's just the cantracepted fun it is

Why the hell do I care? I'm a white male in America. That's nothing to complain about. I haven't been exploited, oppressed, downtrodden, or discriminated against. I have been exploited, oppressed, downtrodden, and discriminated for.

And that really fucking bothers me. That, for my benefit, atrocities are committed daily the world over, whether it's to get me my gasoline for less that $4 a gallon or my t-shirt for less than $10. I am charged less because people I don't know half a world away are paid peanuts, uninsured and with no recourse to unions, as their air and water are polluted all in the name of American capitalism, or economic imperialism.

But why should I care? I don't have to pay so much for the things I like.

They want to keep the Mexicans out, say they're stealing jobs from us.

What jobs?

The jobs we've outsourced to China or India or those abysmal maquiladoras?

And what do I care anyway? I've got my job.

If I didn't have a job, I'd look for one.

If I'm overlooked for a job because someone else is willing to do it for less money, that's capitalism.

A competitive market. Right?

But what do I care?

If I get passed over for a job in favor of someone who barely speaks English, my shortcomings must have outweighed theirs.

That's the way it works.

All this bullshit about "illegal" or "alien" or "status" or "citizenship," so much fixation on where somebody is from, not where they're going.

I take it back, they don't care where somebody is "from." Ask any illegal Canadian.

They care that somebody is darker of pigment, speaks with an accent, can talk in a language that they can't understand. It makes them suspicious, paranoid, fearful.

Suspicion, paranoia, and fear make people stupid. Stupid as fuck.

Too stupid to see that they are trampling the beauty they claim to protect, corrupting what they want to keep pure, denying to others that same Dream they cling to for themselves, pissing on the graves of the noble spirits they invoke to defend their selfish ways.

Jesus was a hippie. Jesus was a Commie. There is no Christian Capitalism, not if you want me to believe those words mean what you say they mean. Pick a side. Make sense.

I love America, and I love the people who love America. I love the people who want to make this their home, and possess enough of the spirit of Civil Disobedience to jump over the fences and the frivolous and unnecesarily long and difficult process of legal immigration, thereby making proud Thoreau, Patrick Henry, Ben Franklin, or any of the rest of our Proud American Criminals.

But what do I care? I'm in. If they're in, or if they're out, what difference does it really make to me, to my life?

The worse things are for everyone below me, the better off I am. Right? Isn't that how it works?

Can we find some other way to make it work? Some way that involves compassion, cooperation, equality?

Some way that further elevates our species, past our territorial animalistic impulses and into our more human, more spiritual tendency to love one another unconditionally?

But what the fuck do I care? I'm doing well enough to be complacent.

I can give you reassurance, friend,
But I cannot fool myself
There is too much spinning and I close my eyes
But the world still churns my stomach
I see through red lids faces I call my own
Taking and raping with backhanded slaps
The souls of the whole world
We are all the children of Kings and Queens
We are all barbarians, couth and cruel
Civilizing by the rifle and murdering with our handshakes
Our sisters and brothers. Oh, bother, Oh, brother, why bother?
Topple with every birth the towers of ancestral knowledge
I can teach you to kill, but to love and forgive
And to live like a free being, we can only learn
At our expense or neglect at our expense.
Give me, gimme gimme, dammit, mine and yours
Us and Them, Anti-Pro-Ambivalent ambiguous
When do we realize there's just Us, Just us
And justice is accepting Them as Us
God Bless Us, goddammit, we've too far to go
Too much to grow to flower. History's almost over
Or it's just barely beginning, and we choose which
Has it been a good run? Really, how much farther can we go?
Each stride is longer and faster than the last
The Golden Days passed longer and longer ago
And why don't we say They Are Coming Up
Chin Up, It's Just Around The Corner
It'll All Be Better Soon, Once We Figure This Out?
I totter in a twilight optimism
A hobo asks me for a light and I oblige
He hands it back when he is finished
-------------------------------------and I ask him for some darkness
"Keep busy til the bomb goes off unnerneath ya"
And I say "Sure" and he flashes a peace sign as he walks away
I never know if that's a blessing or wishful thinking
Or what's the difference between, but, God,
Am I gonna keep busy til that bomb goes off

Drunk in the heat of the day and I can feel every drop of sweat trickle and tickle its way out of my tingling body, every tiny imperceptible hole screaming with the effort of pushing toxins from my blood. Harry Hou-fucking-dini and Sigmund Avoid. Pour a martini and forgive me if I'm paranoid, but I don't think that you're here for what you think you're here for. You want to know something about me, but there's nothing to know. I guarantee I'm as much a fool as you, or more. Talk to me, for just a second, and all you'll hear is yourself talking back, echoes of thoughts you had and were too terrified to put to words. Don't be scared. There is nothing to fear from an idea alone. Life is a trip and ideas are maps we can choose to follow, and whether you're careful or not doesn't matter at all so fuck being careful, be whatever you are. I will, and the breathing is ragged but it persists. Death is only the next step and I promised to never fear progress, because God told me it was His only way into the world, so die and smile while you do it. Die and Let Die, the old ways have to pass on or we will all pass on and end together. Breaking tiles with errant feet we dance a dance not yet invented and soon to be studied, we become the sculptors of history and hoist onto our shoulders the feet of every generation to come. We do not hold our children under the water lest it be Styx, and not to die and set us free but to strengthen and enslave our own fallen memories in service of the future of God and Man and Art. The seeds of Something More among rocky soil just wait for you to shit on them like we all shit on whatever is good before it can breathe and it suffocates or it concentrates and sprouts into the sun. Where are you now, on your way out of the shit? Me too.
Hold my hand, don't mind the sweat. We're almost there. What do you mean? What do I mean to you, what do you mean to you? Drift along just a little further, breathe in, reach up. Shhh.

There.
Cough, and you lost it, didn't you? Me too. I always fucking lose it. Let your eyes drift down again, but you won't get it back. It's ok. You're not supposed to.
Aaaaaaaaahh-ah! Stairs, lifting, lifting... come along now...