|The time has come for a very epic entry...
||[Sep. 11th, 2005|02:50 pm]
|||||Earth - Raiford (The Felon Wind)||]|
I wasn't always the saddest one. But I was sometimes a sadder one. But I just... fucking can't... it's not helping... I was too happy to be in love with you and too entrusted with you to just... just too, you know... It's not like it's not making any sense it's but I... no? Just no! WHY AM I FUCKING POSTING THIS? Where were you when I asked if I could borrow any mushrooms? Where were you when I said I needed to use the toilet? Where were you when I wondered if I could ask this of you? Where were you when I answered back? My steel settlements appear lame upon first regard but are actually quite friendly if you suck them off for a long enough time. Not that I wasn't ever lower than I am, being higher than many in this city. It was a feeble resistance. It was a troubled time. We rose above them, we ascended to the glory of the drowned trade carts. Your anxiety was like a fish on a rock, squirming and squirming, without a cock. Masters of the sunken life lie, we should have been there twice. Once with the walls painted yellow-black. Once with you in my arms, melting into my skin. Bittersweet traces of your fury emerged in my neurological glands after hours of wondering, "When is it going to kick in?"
So slowly, I crept toward the knife in the middle of the room. As I approached it, pink flames dancing in the sky, I heard a whisper, emerging from its polished cheek. It told me, "Put on that neon vest, it's like an S&M tracksuit, bike pants and everything." I was just like, "Dude, don't give me your hackeysack bullshit. I clearly possess much more experience than a fucking knife of being tied up." "Oh really?" the knife replied, "You, who has never even been laid by another? I on the other hand, was packaged very intimately with other knives like myself on my trip here from faraway the steel refinery where I was made, and during the journey I was often tied together with my brothers and sisters who all came from the same steel refinery. It may be incest, but us knives, we are far to sharp to be disgusted by such simple, natural things. And naturally, when the crate in which I was became opened by customs inspectors in Canada, they were revolted by the mercury that had erupted from our forms during sexual climax, and marked it as a terrorist act. But we knew better, and kept fucking them in the chest until they had no choice but to involuntarily let us pass. Or, at least the decaying bloodied masses strewn across the floor that they used to be were the ones that owned that lack of a choice. And believe me, my dear Jan, along the way I had to chestfuck many humans to get to where I am, so if you don't wear that neon vest, you may just be next." Extraordinarily aroused by the tale of incest and murder, I fucked the knife myself. And what a gloriously painful fucking it was. If I were to give it a colour, I'd say... red!
After Joe's constant mentioning of the extreme sport and art parkour, I decided to try it out for myself, with very painful results. Parkour is an extreme sport where you use the city as an obstacle course and try to clear obstacles by jumping over them and stuff like that, while doing it in a very fluid and uninterrupted motion. Basically, on Friday after school, me and Fraiman went to try it for the first time with Joe and Johnny. Fraiman made a lot of progress and had a wonderful time. I on the other hand... had quite a lot of fun too actually, but only for a short time, because early on, I had an accident. Not a very sexual one, unfortunately. Well, actually, it could be quite sexual if you are either very kinky, or you want to be very kinky (like me). I was trying to do a roll, and I'm terrible at doing rolls. My attempt made my slam my ass against the grass I was rolling on, and injure my tail bone. I couldn't really participate in any parkour for the rest of the day, and it still hurt when I was running yesterday. At least I learned a lot from watching them pk (short for parkour), and so, next time, I'll be ready to try all that stuff out. Except the rolls. Those hurt.
Yesterday I hung out with Sam for a while, but after a while he had to go to a midwife reunion or something like that, of all things. So I just walked around the city. I walked down the harbourfront and explored it from like, Dufferin to Yonge. It was a very fun adventure. During an early part of it, I was creating in my mind a videogame where you control a single character in a huge world just like this one, in which you can do anything you can do in real life. After I had spent a long time imagining what you could do in that videogame, I had eventually realized that there was so much to do in real life!!! I was just like, "Why am I wasting my days doing nothing when could be doing so much more because there is just so much I can do in this world!" The perfection of it all occurred to me once again, just like it had when I saw Toronto from the airplane over a month ago. I realized that the city is simply a huge collage of billions of pieces of artwork. A fence is one of these pieces of artwork. As is a brick, or a plank of wood. The huge collage is divided into many smaller collages, such as buildings. And because of us, there is so much more to do then there was, say, three thousand years ago or something. There's even much more to do now then there was a hundred years ago, because we are constantly expanding and our civilization is still budding and has not yet started to rot. Or has it, I wondered. Oil prices have been rising and rising, and I don't expect them to ever go down like they were before. Hopefully, we will replace oil in nearly every usage with an abundant renewable resource such as salt water, before it's too late. It already is too late for many, actually. But back to my main point, we have made this world incredibly awesome for most humans, and quite shitty for most animals. The fact that things like roadkill exist are just ridiculous. But anything with so much power will inevitably bring things with less power down, even if it doesn't try to. And not much of humanity tries particularly hard not to. But I am a human, why am I worrying about such things when life is nearly perfect for my kind? I suppose it's because I'm a compassionate person, and I care about others and how they feel. But why? I'm not them! But I suppose I easily could have been. But now I'm delving into territory of which I know next to nothing about, and can only guess as it how it really is, as there isn't really any proof that I know of that explains why I am myself and not another, and why people actually are themselves in the first place, and not just soulless images or whatever. But maybe people aren't, maybe I'm the only person that's real and everyone else is fake. It could easily be that way from my point of view, I just don't know! If a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound? Is there even a tree there??? Do things only exist when I come into contact with them, I just don't know! And at this point, there seems to be absolutely no way I can know! In fact, there's no way I can possibly know anything, as reality could be playing tricks on me! People like Paz would completely dismiss these theories because they can't think outside the box, and fully trust everything that they learn in school, and refuse to believe anything that clashes with that unless the majority agrees with it. I suppose being a person with that narrow-minded perspective is a good way to go about life, not having to worry about questions with no apparent answers like the ones I am dealing with. But I prefer to be adventurous, pushing the boundaries and stretching the limits. What you are reading right now is really just a collection of images that other images that call themselves humans have attributed to being the English language, displayed in Verdana font. Because these images have attributed it as such, that is what it is. But does that really mean that's what it is? To most "creatures" on this "planet", these images mean absolutely nothing. They don't go, "Oh, there goes Jan rambling about philosophical shit again", and they don't label it as words in the English language displayed in Verdana font, because these things might as well not exist to these creatures or whatever they themselves believe they are. I'm sure that members of different species have completely different takes on everything that is true to us, and what they think of as indisputable facts are completely irrelevant and untrue to us. But what makes something actually be something? Is there any way to know? I suppose I should just go with the flow of life while I am alive and not try to challenge it as much, because I will simply arrive at dead ends such as this one after wasting hours of my time. But reality is so vast and so much is possible in it. It makes me feel scared. It also makes me feel insignificant and tiny, which may be true from the perspectives of others, but to me... I am everything. To me, I am the reason for my existence. I live to be myself. Or at least, that is how it is based on the information that I have. But maybe there is some truth in religious text, maybe it's more than just something other mortals have created. But are there even any other mortals? I have no way of knowing any of this. I'm agnostic for this reason, because I do not make the mistake of assumption when dealing with things so grand. People may view it as a gamble, but any other take on life could be a gamble, right? I'm just really confused right now, and I don't know if any of what I said actually made sense. Well, it at least made sense to me, but... Oh no, not again. I just don't know, okay? That one sentence summarizes the vast majority of this paragraph, and possibly my life, depending on how you look at it. The sentence being: I don't know. Is that even a sentence? I don't know!
If that wasn't so long, it could easily be the dictionary definition of the word ridiculous.