Archive for June, 2006

It dawned on me yesterday whilst I watched day time TV (I was sick..okay!) that the attraction with these melodramatic episodes, labelled entertainment by some, is one of absolutism. Everything is mapped out in nice little packages. Everything has a meaning…A root cause…All so neat and tidy..spotless! The episode of Blue Heelers I was observing in the background while I nursed my microbe infested body had some teenager on a Rampage with an M16. Of course his father is a Vietnam Vet and as it turns out, his comrade in arms, who by coincidence is a neighbour in Mt Thomas, had a hidden stash of firearms that this kid happens to dig up with a metal detector. Anyway I need not go into superfluous detail of what amounts to nothing, however it just struck me that the story was very tidy.

Unlike my life or perhaps yours; things are never so precise. One plus One doesn’t necessarily add up to two in real life drama. It is my experience that there is often unseen variables that play a part in the melodrama. It could be that things do just add up. Perhaps the reason this fictional kid lost the plot was because his Father was a violent Vietnam Vet and didn’t pay attention to him. I’ve sort of lost my logic…Because it is starting to make sense. The character plot…not my dissemblingly of thoughts.

What I am trying to convey is that I have come to understand why we like to sit in front of our favourite TV show and be lost in the drama unfolding. It gives us a taste of the absolute, which for the most part, our own lives is lacking. We are on an absurd daily routine that doesn’t necessarily fit neatly into a cause and affect scenario, although if we begin to psychoanalyse we are sure to attach little pieces of causation into the messiness. TV adapts this need into a neat package that we can devour in an hour time slot between the messy odds and ends that we call a day.

Buying my time, waiting for my financial situation to escalate, so I can fulfill my desire for an updated PC. I am eager for this to happen. I am also waiting for Intel to release their “Conroe” processor. The prices for AMD will then plummet, well that’s what I’m hoping for. The system I have in mind is currently going to cost me around the 2k mark. I’d rather not spend so much on a piece of hardware that will be antiquated within a couple of years. Such is the obsolescence of technology. Whatever hardware I spend my money on, it will become old pretty fast in this speed obsessed age. My bank account is burning a hole in my pocket. I have the money to buy now, but I’d rather keep what I have in my savings account than gratifying my desire for an instant fix to processing brute force.

I hardly need this right at this moment. It will do me good to wait. I’ve been waiting all my life for something. What I am waiting for is probably not to be found inside a computer case. One needs his obsessions, else he die from boredom. And so it is, I am desperately waiting for a new toy to fill in the successation of moments that must be filled with something. I am on the move constantly. Can I sit still for a moment? It would seem that I can’t or won’t. I essentially don’t want to be reminded that I exist. Space and time beckon me to acknowledge that I do. If I am on the move then I haven’t time to reflect on the where I am. If I sit still then the face of reality will reveal itself. I wish to hide from her cruel face.

“Can we run forever? Does nightfall shine?” Indeed questions worthy of comtemplation. I may very well want to run forever but is it possible? I have to stop at some stage. Perhaps when I do, nightfall will cease to shine. I find it tends to take on a gleam when on the move. In the depths of solitude, nightfall glazes the eyes.

There is nowhere I can go. I am trapped by this thing. I don’t even know what this thing is, however I feel I am enslaved by it. I feel it strangling me, sapping the breath from my lungs. I want to scream, to rid myself of this burdening thing, yet I feel Its claws stifling my ability to even speak. I am alone. With this thing. Perhaps time will come to pass when I can leave this thing or that it will tire of me. Either way, I must wait. I must wait for freedom. I think the wait will be long and gruelling, a test of patience. Perhaps for the entirety of my life….I will wait…for freedom. What if I am already free? The question could be that freedom is an illusion and in an ironic twist of fate, I long for something that cannot be. I sit here before you with my arms and legs free from shackles and chains. Thus I am free; free to leave this place of rest, to never return, to wander to and fro upon the vast brown earth and across the azure sea. However will I be free? Free from this thing? From this thing, which clings, like cloth anointed with sleets of rain, awash with a sense that I cannot be free. Will I be free from this thing that they call…Me?

Well the day is pretty much over. What have I achieved today? Nothing! Sweet FA! I uninstalled Zone Alarm Pro version 65.714.xxx and reinstalled the previous version with some umming and ahhing about whether I even need the damn program, considering my modem/router has an in built hardware firewall. Is another firewall really necessary? I even installed Windows defender for some unknown reason. Here I am contemplating going down the Linux road and I’m installing more MS products. I must be absolutely mad! Am I totally paranoid? Security has gone a little too far. What am I…Fucking ASIO? What is with me? Am I that bored that I need Windows Defender…Like any Microsoft product is going to be safe and secure.

Anyway I haven’t much going on. Nothing much to talk about tonight. Just my paranoia. Maybe I should just go to bed. Simple solution to a not so simple day.

My new aim is to try and change the style in which I write. I don’t think it is achieveable, even now, I announce my intention with the same voice I communicate an all too familar and sick dialogue. This wretched voice is with me, presumably at all times. The cynic. Such a comical voice, if it were but a part of a satirical play, would almost be funny, however it is the voice of me. It never sleeps, it grows a little more sicker with each passing observation. It glances at my opening remark and almost gags with its smirk, squinting its knowing, cold reptile eyes; disgusted with my vain attempt to appear a little more optimistic or dare I say “normal”. Is that why I desire a change in style, to be a little more fashionable? In folly I endeavour to be savoured with the “in” crowd, as if it were a fine wine one could swirl upon the tongue with the sweet taste of belonging.

I partook in a creative writing course a couple of years ago although I never did quite finish it, due to sickness, if you could label a self induced psychosis, a sickness. Perhaps it was the same sickness that speaks to me perpetually, however that is by the way, the instructor, or teacher in that class instructed that we maintain a level of positivism in our writing. How so? with the voice of wretchedness that lurks behind and within the hall ways and ‘neath the frayed rug of perception? Is it possible to convey a postive embodiment of thought with a scourge of cynicism, which seems to suffocate in its ferocity?

I know it was a silly, passing moment where I forgot that the cynic is “I”, it is the me. It is not the voice of the wretched, it is the voice of me. Besides, why would I want to change this dialogue or style. So that I could entice a more liberal following? A following period? Have I a desire to perpetuate some cult that I need a following? Is my self delusion getting the better of me? I need an analysis of the motivation at play here. If I were to sell my soul in the name of positivist idelogy would I then gain acceptance, a level of self acceptance because I could possibly attract a readership of this blog? Would I then feel as if I belong? Would I feel better because my mind will be placated with the blind reassurance of optimism? Or would the self deceit of postivism that is fabricated for the benefit of seeking approval result in more anguish? Underneath it all lies a desperation, this I can see. What am I desperate for? What else is there but Love. All I really want is to be loved. It all boils down to that four letter word.

Alas, I can not purchase it with a few positive words or a change in style.

I’ve spent the best part of this week on my own. I am not sure why I find it so appealing to me right now, to be disconnected from the world. It probably isn’t such a healthy activity considering isolation can be somewhat detrimental to my mental health. I am more than likely hiding from something, perhaps I am hiding from myself. The dilemma, which is evident from such a farcical statement is that I can’t hide from myself. I can surely distract from whatever issue is driving me into the depths of solitude and too be entirely honest that is exactly what I have been doing..distracting… spending far too much time on the internet, so much so that I am depriving myself of much needed sleep. Perhaps I just want some downtime. Is a week too much downtime? I am essentially a solitary creature and I think there is absolutely nothing wrong with spending time by myself. I am also a selfish creature and in the world at large perhaps some friends have missed my presence, yet I believe I don’t really have any importance and that I don’t hold any particular need to the people I mix with.

It says more about me than it does about anyone else. What it comes down to is how much value do I place on myself? To say I don’t matter is not really evidenced by any factual reality, it is merely a perception I hold. Perhaps I would like to believe I didn’t matter so then my actions or behaviour, such as isolating and disconnecting could be justified. In the end I am sick of being accountable, to my friends or anyone for that matter. I desperately desire a self sufficiency that is narcissistic in nature, total spiritual abandonment. If I were to search for a deeper meaning to this desire I could extrapolate a definition, a label to identify myself with a reality that perhaps requires validation. This added meaning or hidden meaning could be pinned to how much trust do I possess or am willing to outlay. Trust is much like any transaction, one hopes to gain something in return and I don’t have much faith in the idea that I will receive anything in return for one of life’s treasures. I heard it spoken, that trust is an action, a verb. One must do it! Am I willing to take the risk and externalise it? If so will then I break away from this self imposed solitude I have currently sentenced myself to? What if I continue this solitude, what will happen?

I’ve become silent and I wish not speak anymore. It has become too hard to speak. Besides what use is there in speaking when one has nothing to say. So it is, I am mute! Needless to say I am still speaking when I am quiet, perhaps the reason I want to remain silent is due to fear. I do not wish to look stupid and I fear that anything I say will appear stupid or superfluous. I write here, which amounts to silence. I do not have any friends that come by and read my aimless thoughts. I don’t blame anyone for not considering the rambles of a lunatic interesting. Mainly because they aren’t.

Anyway, back to silence.

So much for the long weekend. Time seems to pass at an exceedingly rapid pace when one isn’t working. I am of the belief that work will invariably make one live longer, at the very least it will offer the perception that life is longer, perhaps infinitely so. I spent the Queens Birthday doing domestic chores, how lame is that? I should be in bed now except I am caffeinated to an extent that sleep is not an option. Well I have nothing real to add today, So perhaps I shall I just browse the web for more information. Maybe that is not a good idea but I don’t know what else to do.

I’ve resorted to the original blogger for ease of use. The Performancing tool for Firefox was a little experiment. Although I successfully published a post, it wasn’t as user friendly as the blogging tool that is blogger. Essentially I was bored and wanted to play with something and it was recommeneded on the Mozilla site so I thought what the fuck, why not experiment, what do I have to lose? What would be the worst possible outcome? I’d stuff up windows again…I’ve become an expert at reinstalling it…So what!

Now I’m back in blogger and what do I really have to say? Nothing in particular. I’m still bored..and now with nothing to say. I downloaded some more porn for no particular reason…I’m bored.

It is getting late again and I’m still online…I ought to be in bed fast asleep. I’ve been punishing myself with sleep deprivation for no good reason other than the fact that I am bored! I shouldn’t be bored..after all; it is only a state of mind..I could’ve found some constructive thing to do, however I wasted time. Time is only here to be wasted. I have no great work to do…I am Mister average Joe Blo…Perhaps an amatuer geek at best, even that is too specific for an average Joe like me, a wannabe amatuer geek seems to be more fitting, however even more specific. How about geek, period! Freak? Perhaps I have no label I can attach to myself. I am because I am. Do I need labels? Do I need to asoociate my state of being with some identifying mark? Is it necessary to find some innate word to procure meaning, to gain some insight into where I fit into the picture. I am here for no reason in particular, I am bored for no reason. Why insist on having a reason, a purpose or a goal or whatever? Right now I am typing words into a pixelated world, the information swirling around in the ether, for no apparent reason or logic. All it wants to do is exist, why it wants to exists is beyond the means of comprehension. I have to let it be and just ride the wave until the wave runs out of energy, perhaps then it will no longer exist, perhaps it will morph into something else. Such a metamorphosis may no longer require a language where labels are used to identify a meaning or purpose.

Just a little test. I have installed Performancing into Firefox and am trying to nut it out.

This is it. My first post using Performancing. Here goes, fingers crossed!

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