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Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall

Posted 5 December 2003, 2.07 am by Villager

When I look in the mirror, the face that looks back is one of disdain, bordering on contempt.

Self reflection is a precious thing. To employ a cliché, life is what you, the individual, make it. Thus, in order to effectively shape the future the focus of analysis must be the self. The opinions of others are invariably useful, but the crucial component is internal conflict. I find myself at a stage in my life where I have all my options ahead of me, and with no obvious path I must look within myself in order to find direction. I make no pretence that such direction will be fruitful, but certainly for personal mental stability it is the only viable option.

This search is made easier by the fact that I have clearly defined interests and values. I like to learn, be in good company (even if I'm the only one there), to be in a peaceful and pleasant environment and go for the occasional jog. I love confectionary that's high in sugar. I value honesty, humour, modesty, intelligence, selflessness, kindness, inquisitiveness and other such traits. I hate violence, selfishness, arrogance and those who would subjugate others by force or ideology. In humankind I see potential to thrive as a mutually dependent society, each caring for all and poverty unknown. In reality I see a world of greed, superficiality, hypocrisy and vast energies expended for abhorrent goals, where inventive and terrible violences are dominant and virtue a mere trace element. The infinite sadness which results from this realisation is compounded by another more personal, inescapable realisation. That is, that the potential and reality of the world at large are effectively reflective of my own.

I feel I have potential as a human being. I have ideals and values and wish to make best use of the knowledge, abilities and strengths that I have and will gain. I wish to go about my daily business with a purpose, prosecuting my tasks with all the energy that the human form permits. I wish that my relations with others be determined by the ideals that I subscribe to. In short, I wish to live in such a manner that would be consistent with the pure and innocent, naive, even childish, idealism that exists inside, free from cruder urges. What deeply pains me is that I do not and never have.

What hope is there when I, so critical and condemning of those who exhibit displeasing behaviour, cannot yet control myself. I can sit and articulate grand principles and ideals and convince myself (if not others) that such things are as attainable as they are desirable. Yet, day after day, I fail to regulate my behaviour even closely in terms of my ideals. Whether it be lethargy, acquiescence to temptation or distraction by my human form, the struggle to simply behave in a manner which I know would be immensely rewarding on that childish, idealistic level, is not being won. I know I am a weak person, though I wish it were not so. That I, who profess to understand enough of myself to know what I want, do not act true to my words brings me in these early hours to a state of disgust. I despise my weakness and myself yet more for permitting it.

If I have failed to become something by virtue of inner strength, then perhaps the reflection that stares back with those accusing eyes will impel me to the greater effort that my heart would not.

Get your lyrics sung by the best

Posted 26 November 2003, 12.41 pm by Alexander

The world's greatest singers sing YOUR lyrics! Genius!

That it is not it, that is not it at all

Posted 22 November 2003, 11.53 pm by Shaggy

Communication is the purest and most necessary of human interactions. Yet it is also one of the most incomplete of human endeavors.

Take for instance the form of communication. One might say that the purest conversation is through touch. And yet sexuality is a joke of communication. People communicate without meaning during sexuality, loyal lovers make love to people who cannot make love, but can only fuck. Hearts torn, bitterness ensues... and... END OF SCENE.

That is not to say that sexual intercourse can never be communicative. However, in order for it to be such, meaning must be attached, for in itself sex is meaningless, a tool for meaning that is devoid of meaning itself, and thus potentially dangerous for people who wield the tool without any purpose. And, for that matter, those around such fools.

Many approach the same problem in a logocentric point of view. I would be one such hopeful dreamer. Language is the gift we are given, often abused but still a strong ticket toward meaning. If you doubt such a thing, listen in on random conversations. You will hear quotes from the Simpsons, reviews of the newest movie, implications of theories presented in philosophical treatises... language heard is expositional to language itself.

And yet there are still so many uncertainties. The loyal lover will always question the faithfulness of his or her significant other, because there is no way of knowing what goes on in another person's head. Fights would not ensue so often, bitterness would not be so disruptive and violent a power, had it not been for the purpose and meaning of actions... if one could just articulate, if one could just say what was meant... then perhaps...

Here we are moving on to impossibilities. One can never speak in a manner that would allow everyone to understand. My words are often misinterpreted, and many words of people more wise than I have been abused, meaning rearranged, misquoted, et alia, most often to serve selfish purposes.

Head down, we look at the earth, at our feet, at the mud and shit of our existence. Head up, we are knowledgeable that we are knee deep in the shit, and can only hope to some day rise above, and leave this wretched existence for something more tangible, something more than real.

Earth is both heaven and hell. Smiles promote happiness, physicality often promoting pain. We are at once our own anguish, and our own happiness. I hate you all just as much as I love you.

In fact, I cannot feel hate unless I had originally loved. Take for instance those who can hurt me enough to feel hate: I must love them in order to allow them such an affect on me. If I was indifferent, I would not feel hate. Passion is both a positive and a negative. Crimes of passion are all we have, yet so is the passion of love. They are, truly and most undoubtedly, the same.

I sometimes am extremely weary of the game we play on earth. I am sick of spitting, sick of existence in general. I cannot wait to play in the fields of eternity, where my screams of joy and agony can be heard across the stars.

Then, and only then, shall my voice be a supernova, exploding out and affecting all in the greatest and truest lie.

Where is the Love?

Posted 21 November 2003, 11.41 am by Green Mamba

[This was destined to be the opening post for Roadkill v365.2, but since circumstances cast my site into limbo, here goes…]

What's wrong with the world, mama
People livin' like they ain't got no mamas
I think the whole world addicted to the drama
Only attracted to things that'll bring you trauma
Overseas, yeah, we try to stop terrorism
But we still got terrorists here livin'
In the USA, the big CIA
The Bloods and The Crips and the KKK
But if you only have love for your own race
Then you only leave space to discriminate
And to discriminate only generates hate
And when you hate then you're bound to get irate, yeah
Badness is what you demonstrate
And that's exactly how anger works and operates
Nigga, you gotta have love just to set it straight
Take control of your mind and meditate
Let your soul gravitate to the love, y'all, y'all

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send us some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)

Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love
The love, the love

It just ain't the same, always unchanged
New days are strange, is the world insane
If love and peace is so strong
Why are there pieces of love that don't belong
Nations droppin' bombs
Chemical gasses fillin' lungs of little ones
With the ongoin' sufferin' as the youth die young
So ask yourself is the lovin' really gone
So I could ask myself really what is goin' wrong
In this world that we livin' in people keep on givin'
in
Makin' wrong decisions, only visions of them dividends
Not respectin' each other, deny thy brother
A war is goin' on but the reason's undercover
The truth is kept secret, it's swept under the rug
If you never know truth then you never know love
Where's the love, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the truth, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the love, y'all

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send us some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)

Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love
The love, the love

I feel the weight of the world on my shoulder
As I'm gettin' older, y'all, people gets colder
Most of us only care about money makin'
Selfishness got us followin' in the wrong direction
Wrong information always shown by the media
Negative images is the main criteria
Infecting the young minds faster than bacteria
Kids act like what they see in the cinema
Yo', whatever happened to the values of humanity
Whatever happened to the fairness in equality
Instead in spreading love we spreading animosity
Lack of understanding, leading lives away from unity
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' under
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' down
There's no wonder why sometimes I'm feelin' under
Gotta keep my faith alive till love is found

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send us some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)…

[Justin Timberlake & Black Eyed Peas - Where is the Love?]


So why the hell would I submit an article that involves someone like Justin Timberlake. Don’t get me wrong, I have no personal gripe with Mr Timberlake or his partners in rhyme, Black Eyed Peas, but when it comes to the more popular hum-didi-daa crap that passes for music these days, I tend to cross my fingers followed by a robust, “Get beeehind me Satan!”.
I don’t blame the artists either, because they are merely products of a society who’s values have fallen to the wayside. The music of our time reflects the mindset of the population at large, so there is nothing surprising in the sad reality that the International Top 40 contains countless one liners. Back to “Where is the Love?”. When I first heard the song I didn’t know who the hell these guys were (because like I said, I’m not a fan), but the words struck home like a bad-ass-mother-fucker with a Louisville Slugger in his hands and a serious inclination to do some bodily harm in mind. After that every time I heard the song I tried to listen more carefully to the DJ afterwards, but every time I missed it. Then last weekend it came over the radio while I was at home and the wife promptly informed me that it was by Justin Timberlake and I said, “Fuck no?” and she said “Seriously” and I said “You’re shitting me?” and she said “Nope” and then the song was over and the DJ announced (clearly for a change) “Where is the Love by Black Eyed Peas and Justin Timberlake” and I sat there with my jaw near the floor for at least a minute.
That prompted a quick search at Google and there she was, two pages (two whole fucking pages) of lyrics (meaningful lyrics) in a world ruled by hundreds of nothing-more-than-one-liner-advertising-jingles-with-hyped-up-beats.
Still, the chances that I would ever buy anything involving Justin Timberlake is slimmer than an anorexic Ethiopian, but teaming up with Black Eyed Peas and using his fame to ask the world a meaningful question for a change, pushed him up a few notches in my little notebook of “How to fix a broken world?” Now if only people would start listening to the words instead of swaying mindlessly to the rhythm of the latest advertisement for spending-your-money-on-meaningless-shit-under-the-pretense-that-you-actually-need-it, maybe (just maybe) there is still some hope for the future of mankind.

Capacity: A Prelude

Posted 19 November 2003, 3.26 pm by Villager

I am young, I am healthy. My body performs more or less to request virtually uninterrupted by illness or injury. It does everything asked of it, and when I am careless enough to damage it, it quickly repairs itself and I am none the worse for it. Quite efficient, really. By human standards, though I'm hardly endowed with Olympic attributes and abilities, this machine of mine is entirely adequate and probably in better overall health than most (obesity being endemic in one half of the world, starvation in the other). I take reasonable steps to keep it that way, with diet and exercise.

My mind is active, inquisitive, reasonably intelligent. I can explore such issues as I please as I have the physical and psychological liberty to do so. My mind is as free and as healthy as it ever has been. The biggest obstacle being my own desires, my capacity to learn and grow intellectually seems far from being fulfilled, and I doubt it will be anytime soon. In the meantime though, I am lucky enough to exist without notable psychological impairment, and have the kind of intellectual freedoms that humankind has dreamed of for millennia (and in some parts, continue to have resort only to such dreams).

I recognise these things, and yet I do not appreciate them. I understand that shortly my body will become frail, vulnerable, and my mind slowed and prone to mistake. Yet the only effect this seems to have is to embitter me against the inevitability of getting old. I have all the usual tools available to mankind, but nothing to do with them.

Daily routine aside, my body is only challenged at leisure; sport, running. Its true abilities are not needed for my survival, and so they are not used. Is this to create the most efficient, comfortable environment in which my mind can flourish? It would be a nice relationship, but my mind refuses to appreciate the favour. This mind of mine, you see, can comprehend greater things than it is needed for: I feel as if I am existing in a very small sphere of my mind's capacity, and I am frustrated by the glimpses of freedom and virility in which I know my mind would so love to exist, but may not.

My freedom, the freedom that so many have fought so hard to achieve, is wasted.

And so mind and body prove to be largely antagonistic, each vying for attention and fulfilment, neither achieving adequate progress. I have well experienced much of the pleasures that the body can give: it is but a small taste, but I believe greater application would come at too high a cost, vitiating the reward. And so the mind is embraced as the one part of this troublesome form which offers hope. We search, fumble, burrow and plough, we ask, beg and ache for knowledge. Here, the body is of no use, only hindrance. The mind either will not rest until it finds the explanation for its quest, the closure for its agonies, or it will self destruct.

Given time, one of them must be inevitable.

Revenge on Nigerian email scammers

Posted 18 November 2003, 1.42 pm by Alexander

This is absolutely priceless. Look what happens when someone decides to reply to a Nigerian "419" scam email. Some of the things he gets these guys doing is fantastic. I'll give them this though - they're persistent. Not persistent enough to get a fucking job mind you.

Click here

Sick and Flawless

Posted 17 November 2003, 8.39 pm by Shaggy

Upon reflection, the world around me is an ever-changing and yet static equilibrium. Truth and untruths exist along very little understanding, though we all do our song and dance to attempt any sort of interpretation. Apparently, our birthright leads us toward the inside of that dark cave, where, deep in its underbelly, hides the secret to happiness and completion.

I have said before, the soul is a great precipice.

At any rate, the one thing I find on a regular basis is an observation many will find rather shocking from me: we have lost the inner child. When I say "inner child" I do not, by any stretch of the imagination, mean embracing childishness. The inner child is something innocent and devoid of all that makes this world hell. The inner child watches cartoons and smiles at random people on the street. The inner child is, in other words, all those positive attributes you have had as a child.

Growing up, many things are shoved underneath the psyche. Hopes and dreams are smashed under the pragmatic foot of realism.

I have seen many pitiful attempts to achieve this child. Some people attempt to embrace it within unattached sexuality, without realizing the inherent mistakes that are attached. Many people I know have attempted, against my advice, such a sexuality. "It is possible for me to be unattached," they tell me. "Sexual attachment does not happen consciously," I warn them. "One can get attached to a lover even against the will, and you are only harming either yourself or your fling by even attempting such a thing." But, since they obviously are right and I wrong, I watch as they attempt, and, ultimately, fail, become hurt, and come to me for comfort.

I have heard of one such creature who has not hurt herself. She embraces sexuality, and it has come at the cost of those around her, and I honestly believe that in embracing sexuality she has embraced evil. She leaves broken hearts in her wake, and indeed, remains attached with them only to shove it in their face that she is sleeping with someone else.

This leads me to believe that she has cut the throat of her inner child and left it rotting in a shed somewhere.

The inner child cannot be found by abandoning connection to humanity. Such a creature exists not as an excuse to do evil, not as a way out of trouble, but as a path to happiness. The inner child is the simplistic representation of happiness, and the perfect inner child is one that comes not at the cost of others, but at a more spiritual safety and naivité.

The inner child is something that can only be defined as a function of the individual.

Now, I say "we have lost our inner child" but I do not mean to imply that all have given up hope. There are a select few who embrace a much more simplistic lifestyle. There are a few who still watch cartoons no matter what their age, who cry in public out of frustration, who play in the mud.

Yet, there are also the many who are too ashamed to admit that they want to roll down a muddy hill. There are many such reasons why people avoid their inner child. Sexuality can be the destruction of this inner creature. Many people overemphasize the importance of sexuality, and thus avoid embarassing situations in order to remain "sexy" (a definition which I hope to destroy in myself, and I daresay I'd rather think of myself as ugly then sexy at most times). Another is the myth of the "grown-up" that is thrown at kids. "Grown ups don't do this, don't do that, you do, you don't do, you do, you don't do..." Professionalism, empiricism.... many opportunities to cast away this inner creature.

I have built many self-defense mechanisms around myself. But I refuse to starve my inner child. He is my heart, he is my soul, and he is my mind. He is me, simplified, and is my ultimate happiness. Impossible to describe, I am constantly in conversation with him, hoping to have him uncover his secrets.

However, I have left out one more reason why the inner child is sometimes unseen: the world has monsters who would cut its throat. I have seen it in hurtful sexuality, I have seen it in violence, in an overindulgence of control.

My inner child hides behind thick walls, trapped in my mind, a cell of its own, reading from the sometimes-vast library that resides inside of my being.

Perhaps someday, when all the monsters have been conquered, he will come out in public.

Until then, he is reserved for the few who I can be certain would never harm him.

All you monsters, you sick f-----s, should be ashamed of yourselves for frightening him in this way.

And for those who think this article to be an expression of my vulnerability, it is at once a vulnerable thing and an expression of how strong my walls have become. My inner child cannot be killed, but those who attack it shall be sorry, indeed, for I am want to believe strongly in justice.

Sometimes, I fear I have become naught more than an open wound, and that there are monsters who will try to poke these open sores, to cause me pain. This may sound like paranoia, but it is not that these people are out to get me specifically. Rather, there are those who can stand and create walls, there are those who can express their inner child, and, sometimes, there are those who I consider worthless, those who have nothing in their possession except a stick, with which they wonder the streets in search of a weakness in the walls, so they can poke at the bloody cuts.

That said, I will go in secret, now, to my hidden shelter, and play in the mud.

Tonkas and bicycles abound, as well as teddy bears and vast card houses, where resides the great sorcerer.

Capacity: Are you full?

Posted 16 November 2003, 9.36 pm by Villager

My mother always tells me, 'as long as you enjoy yourself, that's all that matters'. I used to think she was being naïve.

Once it becomes apparent (and for some it's much earlier than others) that the material joys of adulthood will never be quite as satisfying as those of childhood, we all must face up to a choice. It is a choice that somewhat surprises. Either we resign ourselves to an existence, ultimately, of mediocrity and henceforth try to get as much satisfaction and stimulation out of these fragile bodies before they collapse and die, or we turn aside from sensual satisfaction (of the more obvious kind at least) and devote our hopes and efforts to the cultivation of the mind and (though it seems to have become something of a dirty word these days) the soul. A crude distinction you might say, and you'd be right. But I think it a fundamentally accurate one. Of course there are an infinite number of shades of each attitude and there's inevitably room for something of both to exist in one person.

The choice becomes necessary because the human mind requires to feel that it is existing at full capacity: if it is felt that there is unused capacity then this undermines the validity of existence at anything below the perceived capacity. I know it's not a very appealing term, but I can't think of a 'nicer' one with comparable meaning so it will have to suffice. What we are doing comes to feel insufficient once we feel we could be doing more.

For those dedicated to their minds, life becomes a path. Some know where they want it to go, others just hope it’s somewhere nice. The mind is agitated to dismiss material wealth because it only scratches the surface of what the human mind can appreciate. The mind, then, is something that offers hope of greater satisfaction, a satisfaction that leaves no room for further desire to undermine it. Capacity. Worldly comforts become subordinate to a perceived higher goal: intellectual harmony. The applications of this are broad, and necessarily so; what is important is that the body becomes a mere stick helping to scratch the itching of the mind.

As for those who prefer tangible, immediate pleasures, the pursuit is not necessarily any less vigorous; indeed some of the most motivated and determined people I know have dedicated their lives to sensual satisfaction. Some are fully committed to the way of life, others choose it as an easier and more easily accessible way of gaining meaning and reward from existence. The mind is reduced to a medium through which stimulation is received.

It should be stated here that it is not important which approach to life I believe to be superior. Indeed, it is vital to the purpose of this article that I accept the individual basis upon which such choices be made.

What must be realised is that despite their often dramatic differences, the two approaches, though dedicated to different ends, are driven by the same thing: the desire for capacity. Complete satisfaction. Contentedness. Call it what you please. And wherever the desire to do more and better exists, so too does the inherent regret that not enough is presently being achieved. If the individual feels progress is being made (or even if capacity is felt to have been reached, if such people exist), the means is justified. If not, the way in which we pursue what has been inappropriately labelled happiness, has to change.

I have not illustrated the choices people make merely to give examples of the variety of human endeavour in life. Their presence here is to show that although we are each inclined to pursue capacity differently, it is not the manner in which we go about it that really matters. Perhaps mother was right, after all.

This has consequences. If as a society we could recognise that despite our vast differences, we are all in pursuit of the same goal, could we not then better work together to create an environment where that is facilitated rather than hindered? Could we not use such new-found kinship to eliminate the frictions which arise from the differences in our attitudes, and realise that mutual cooperation is infinitely more effective than distrust and competition? I don't believe that the differences between those Of the Mind and those Of the Body are so great as to be irreconcilable. I believe that given effort, faith and determination, humankind as a whole can realise something much nearer to its capacity just as we are trying to do individually.


Come, will you join me?

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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!

Yo ! Does this work ?

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