There appears to be a microcosm of everyone's life sucking - at least in my family - and a "as above, so below" thing of the world sucking. And while my brother is a drug addict and my sister is crazy - and while the world's economy goes asunder and everyone's worried about the End of America - - - who bloody cares?? Its alright. Because its not that big a deal.
So I shall go dancing tonight in western downtown. I am lucky enough to have friends to drive me around. I shall fly to China on Friday and then perhaps life will be totally different. Meanwhile in time's other linear direction, yesterday I checked out Indianapolis and hung out with my Indiana family. Eh, not much to report. They are happy, they are sad, they are distant, and I argued a whole lot with my father. I love him so. Happy Rosh Hashana!
Yet, it is good to get these social obligations out of the way. No man may escape his genetic heritage. Though I think I get along best with the in-laws I'm not technically related to. And, as said, my brother is the biggest stoner in the world. He's not unique in that regard. He's just another kid in a world filled with loser bored kids who fuck and get high and do the bare minimum in slacker jobs and community college. Can't blame him. Only a product of his environment. Just do not be surprised. Eh, he'll be alright.
And I am no better, though THC is not preference, I was digging the midwest area for some psilocybin mushroom experience. I may not get another chance over in that communist country you understand (and they better not read this). But he sold me some acid, for a fair familial price, and just don't tell my dad.
I went to the woods and I await a night of dancing, one more hit hidden in my cigerette packet, and I guess I should draw something brilliant or write something obscene (does this count?), but instead I think I'll read some comics or something. Then go home and watch sitcoms. Contemplate the universe inbetween. The one-ness of the mundane.
Surely, if the mundane is divine than nothing is divine. Whether or not divinity is an abritrary linguistic emptiness of my own subjective judgment, or just maybe on the chance that divinity is objective reality. Lysergic acid diethylamide, show me the way!
And I wonder why I don't get anywhere? So so so, I'll read American Born Chinese and Hagbard Celine and stare at these library people. The adolescent black girls doing homework. The dumb teenage kid on Facebook next to me on the left. To my right, an old man looking at gay craigslist ads. I am nosy. Be careful when you sit next to me. I shall post it to all.
"What to do with oneself," I ponder . . .
No depression, but I will admit to a little bit of anxiety. Sexually, politically, socially, artistically, creatively, aesthetically; it is all the same:
LUV LUV LUV
like that song
I want to fall in love with everybody and I want the truth to be infinite and I want everybody to understand and then only then everybody would fall in love with me and if everbody shifted their reality tunnels with highway byway connections maybe we'd get along, but if we got along all those politicians would be out of the job, and my dad wouldn't get to hate those other people on that other side of the war, and we'd have nothing to talk about, and talking about shit when you disagree is kinda fun
ANYWAYS,
there is some kind of unspeakable truth under the surface. Can you not feel it. Do linguistics not fail us?
How can we connect?
Ignore me, I rant
///ray
