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The unbearable undecidability of Being

Posted 23 October 2002, 12.31 am by Shaggy


I often find myself running different paths. It is as if my mind simply does not know itself, or my predispositions, and just runs willy-nilly.

Or perhaps it is the lack of sleep and overwork that is turning me slowly insane.

At any rate, I find myself extremely capricious. Not in the malicious sense (or at least, not consciously so), but rather in the wil you nil you manner, my mind running amok. The only thing really holding me in check is the presence of passion in my life: passion for the Truth, if it is at all attainable, passion in entertaining whatever need humanity has for the arts (at least, in my field), and passion for my love. These passions keep my decisions at some sort of control, filtering out anything that might be destructive to the ideals apparent therein.

At any rate, being in a perpetual state of worry, ponder, philosophizing, calculating... in other words, being in a world only inherent of the mind is a dangerous prospect. It is arguably what brought Nietzsche to his final straw, so to speak, knocking him over the edge unto sanity. Or perhaps he had an imbalance or something. Whatever the case, it is a world that is regarded and accepted as dangerous should it be the sole existence...

My girlfriend is long distance, as is my family. Not that I do not get the chance to talk to both, because obviously I make time for them. They are too important to me to do otherwise. Yet, my brain just feels so damn tired... I feel approximately 986496906340957 years old, at the ends of my rope.

Too bad there isn't something similar to eyedrops for your brain... neurodrops. They make your brain feel fresh and exciting! Catch them at your nearest grocery mart!

I suppose this is a confession of sorts, and as such, not in my usual style. Usually my articles are contemplations about something outside/in, such as the way I see the world or the way the world sees me, but this is purely inside myself. No, not because I feel particularily self-important (indeed, I always feel rather insignificant, a cog to a gigantic wheel that I hope to keep on moving), but rather, because I feel at home here, at akpcep. Yes, folks, get out your handkerchiefs...

I actually have a heart beneath all that pretensious babble.

That's right, you are my friends, as true a friend as any I have kept over the years. You know my secret desires, you know my faults. Indeed, we are so close that when I present my faults, you hope to inspire me away from them. You all are my friends, and are the first people to actually criticize my work. I have been called "wonderful", but never do people compliment me on being human and having faults.

That said, I guess I must admit that this is also cathartic for me. I have embraced the darker side of my psyche for awhile, hoping to find some refuge with seeing the world through a different perspective. Perhaps I have destroyed a lot of what I worked up to, doing a lot of the things I said I would never do, embracing the parts of me I always wanted to surgically remove from my psyche. However, I admit, it was not without warrant; for, I firmly believe, in a world of intolerance, it is necessary to see the world through a different set of eyes. Not everyone is made equally, and not everyone's perceptions work on the same level.

We are so different, you and I, and this is one of many things that I adore.

Listening to Grieg's Ase's Death... (forgive any misspellings), I feel solemn. Listening to one of Chopin's Nocturnes, I feel melancholic and loving. When I listen to Liszt, I feel energetic and tempermental. It is these alterations that I hope to find and mimic in my personality, hoping that through this mimesis I can find a clearer path to the many Truths that I am searching for.

My soul is a deep, hideous cavern that echoes as Things, perhaps truthful or perhaps lies, knock against the walls on the way down. It eats up all it sees, but also, as a part of this nourishment-function that it serves, it also destroys. I hope to both take the Truth into me, and to return it unto the Real, that which rests upon the high pedestal, and in doing so, perhaps I, too, can glance the wonderful world of the Real, where Truth lies, to bring it down back to the particular.

I hope that you, my friends, might help me carry the heavy burden of Truth to whatever mountain it resides, returning it to its original position. I hope that you, too, my friends, will walk down the path that Zarathustra has paved for us.

Only, I hope, we won't go mad, like Nietzsche did when he took Zarathustra on the path to begin with.

I am not crazy. I am, hopefully, not even selfish/self-righteous. I am merely a dreamer, with my head in the clouds, hoping that Truth has not whithered away and died, and that there still exists a path that I can both go up, unto the deadly and often perilous heights of the Real, and hopefully, my soul will survive to take the walk back.

Thank you for allowing me to search by your side.

And forgive me my instabilities. They are ever-so pressing nowadays.

Firebrand
on 26 October 2002, 8.31 pm
i dont know you shaggy, but i do have to say that i think i like this the best out of all you've written while ive been here.


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In 2018 I started painting again. This was one of a series of acrylic sketches I did to relearn techniques and revisit my skills from art college.


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Props to Green Mamba for bringing the weirdness

Hmph

80s candy bars were pretty good

only because i traded it for a candy bar in the 80's.

lol we all know you don't have a soul ghoti

my soul for some carbs...

But of course!

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