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song of january

residents/duckstab/birthdayboy/

How is it that the body and mind share so many needs, except for when the mind deviates from the instincts of all other known lifeforms to say something as abstract as "i need a purpose?", "i need to know my place in the universe"? It is schizophrenicly absurd.

New years resolutions!

This january marks one year living with my husband. I've gotten a taste of how good life can be, so all my resolutions are merely a continuation of the things im already doing.

Boredom... I became sober at the start of the year, then gradually was able to crawl out of depression when I stared lifting in october, in the process I learned how vapid and soul sucking over-stimulation is, and how radically it has altered our minds and culture. I want to continue to reap the benefits of living with my own thoughts. To add to this goal, I want this to be the year I finally repair my attention span to the point that I can read books for fun.

LIFTING! No matter if I wish for it or not, the gains will come... I hope I continue on the upward trend of enjoying lifting more and more, and continue to put on mass and increase the weight I can move! I will escape the SUPER TORTURE that is being in this body!!!!!!!!. yeah.. dats all about me -_-...

Bio mechanisms grind heat in factories of heat, pouring heat, feeding on heat. The mouse, the plant, the sun, all hungry. We recognize this cardinal rule, and thus, there was machinery. and it was good. I saw a advert for "real machine bones" yesterday, apparently they are a distant relative of the internet, washed away by the wrath of the free market. The holy hand of commerce. But our souls are so much better. and smaller. and wet with cooling paste, we eat raw heat and light, we scour an infinitely small catalog of human consciousness.

Metaphors are the nature of every object, how exactly.. Do you define anything without understanding its relation to everything else? This is why the "consciousness question" (or that of the soul) bothers me so immensely! To invent a tool, you must be able to relate the many memories which constitute our conceptions of things with that which you are viewing. You must be able to say "I once shaded myself under a banana leaf" and understand that the concept of shelter is not a banana leaf, but a metaphor which can be applied to anything that covers. Given that this system of pattern recognition was beneficial enough for survival to be passed on, I believe this to be the process which invented consciousness. Because to understand ourselves as individuals, we must first observe and understand others as equally individuals. The knowledge that being a living sensing person is not a unique experience that only you hold claim to, is not endowed in us at birth, but a conclusion most can and will only deduce (with little enthusiasm) after enough socialization and cognitive development. You can only say "I am" so far as you understand what you are not. For instance, if you lived in complete isolation since birth, consciousness would not be a concept you could fathom, as your understanding of the world would have never been severed from your experience of it.

Today I inspected the subtile etching of blue upon the musculature of my arm. And too, submerged my hands in the thick black ooze beneath the green facade of a nearby park. Contained within my pilfered grocery bag of earth were the unintentional hostages of root systems which mirrored my vascular structure identically, in form and function. I feast on my twins for every meal, i eat their skin and fat and muscle as if it was not egregiously identical to my own. And yet, so few wish to admit that if our flesh be the same, in every inch forged of identical composure, that perhaps our futility, purpose, source, and experience are also versions of eachother shaped by evolutionary niche. This process of pattern recognition, or "metaphor" is the only way I can understand the world. I belive that this is the closest thing to the foundation of logic that humans not versed in the sciences can achieve.

We share this basic level of consciousness achieved by sensory perception and pattern recognition (or cognition) with many other animals. I like to imagine that I can acquire a rudimentary sense of the non-human phenomenology with the lens of understanding (metaphor) which I have detailed thus far. They too understand the world through its function, and adapt even to the alien environments we impose on them by utilizing it. It describes the understanding a lab rat holds for buttons, the dog for the technician who feeds them, the raccoon for the chaotic landscape of the city, and the hamster for his dingy cage door. This to me illustrates the likely evolution of consciousness from before the first evidence of visual organs in the Cambrian period to the immense network of overlapping patterns we find ourselves enmeshed in today. The process which allows us to spit out the term "conscious” in order to orchestrate a metaphor to explain to ourselves this disorienting experience of watching yourself describe watching yourself describe watching yourself. And yet, in every philosophical and scientific text ever detailing the matter, we still understand this concept only relative to our experience with it, in the same way the stupid animal understands how a door handle works.

Tired of the "internet brain rot" overstimulation slopworld. everyone wants to think that they have some kind of neurological issue just to avoid the fact that they've ruined themselves with overstimulation. It is one of the most pervasive ailments of our time period, from the oldest to the youngest, the highest genetic quality to the lowest, all participate in this weaponized content. It’s rampant contagion is rivaled only by global capitalism and the black death. I revile that my husband, mother, (boyfriends) friends, and family have all succumbed to this addiction. It’s merely the radicalization of the success tv experienced, and the generation before mine adapts to it so readily considering they grew up watching their parents spend a great deal of time before the television. What exactly is so unbearable about boredom that the entire world runs from it as if scrambling to board a piece of floating wood while stranded at sea? If I have one mission as a parent, it is to quarantine my children from this viral influenza, it is a freedom I feel that they have a birthright to inherit.

"Good job killing that monster mageling", he said. A tightly entangling network of fissures fractured each atomic bond in his body, and before my eyes, in an instant, the creature had been dismantled as his body fell, like a raindrop hitting water. "Revel in the orgasmic sound of shattering ceramic."

The angle of the sun's rays sheared leaf from limb, littering fatalities to feed the forest floor. The genocide of bacterial colonies and the clear mind of the hands rinsed clean. I've paid my penance molding fat and ash from forest fires.

I dream of the rich soil toiled for more soil fodder; heaping lurching morphing fertile soil, a million year reign of the grains and droplets dyarchy morphing the surface of earth. millions of sucking mires, spewing and mixing and swallowing, pullulating, pouring forth where the walls met my wide-eyed gaze, ankle deep, caressing under gaping earth I brushed fellow flesh consigned to digestion, and my weight sunk further within the folds of a small intestine as I grew weaker with each step.

My success is overwhelming, Master. I am euphoric.

Accumulate everything a body needs for survival and yet you remain unfulfilled. A cog in the machine of modern civilization is depraved direly not of material wealth, but of metaphysical wealth. Ironic is the price of decadence, it is humanity's greatest addiction, which we strive again and again to indulge in, despite the fates of those who tasted it before us, we can't muster the self awareness or control to escape its self perpetuating nature. Every instance of demoralization dealt at the hand of decadence stimulates the desire to indulge ourselves more, to distract more, progress more, for we can certainly solve anything if we have created phones and cars! But not one of these addicts stops to consider that we have never invented anything which bears not within itself an equal consequence to its convenience. Mental emaciation is a world hunger affecting all "privileged" countries. We are all oblivious to it, because subconsciously we rationalize the side effects, and everyone else is doing it anyway, and men richer and smarter than us never issued any warning about it. Infinite entertainment at the cost of infinite boredom. Movement without purpose. "Shape without form, shade without color, paralyzed force, gesture without motion;" The most pious armageddon we can humbly pray for is a quiet end to the eternal humiliation of progress once the furthering of technology is exhausted, which is a fate as fictitious as heaven, and too a final rest achieved only after death, as we are truly fulfilled only in so much as we are not progressing.