Tzimtzum-age

 

When one appears too happy or too free, it appears one has an advantage over others, which to the disadvantaged, is a fault. If it is a 'proud look' that is found abhorrent, blame accepted, and if it’s a ‘lying tongue’, I’ll shut up.  Fiona Apple wants to torch the motherfucker like Method Man! 

Minding one’s own business often involves interpersonal interaction if one’s business involves selling. At marketplace, near agora, bits and pieces of wares represent the soul of the representative, an artisan. Trusting that the work of one’s hands is good and in accordance with nature, it is natural to express confidence in one’s own goodness. Proof is popularity, from a marketing standpoint.

False positives exist in markets feeling cornered. Is this a sign of abuse or a victimhood mentality? A not-self-sufficient consumer approaches an artisan in search of natural goodness, one might assume, or perhaps it is to test the natural goodness of the artisan as a critic. “…7-3-7-4,” she hears him give his number to the last customer. She’s keyed up, she needs to relax, but she has trouble doing so, having once been sold on cocaine and a lifestyle hustling the Vegas strip. She still hears voices in the distance, someone threatening someone or another over a lost bet, “And of course it seemed like a sure thing...” but that was a different time and place…

Where we now stand is different, on a precipice, being encouraged to jump by a man with strong arms, now I’m flying for an accelerating second before *thud*. I’m at the bottom being laughed at. Hyperawareness is awful when one is confronted with a weakness, when one is actively being injured. Pride is believing one has transcended into some higher state of being before one is confronted with reality. Pride is ego rising up and compelling one to act in an unrestrained fashion. Freedom is not necessarily ‘lack of restraint,’ (but perhaps that is difficult to grasp, being abstract.) It seems every extreme, at some horizon, seeks its antithesis. Why are there so many apologists for those that victimize? Is it that so many fall prey to predatory strategies? As one ages, one grows out of that feeling-eternal which is replaced by, “oh shit, I’m going to die soon, (but not before I reengage in delinquent behavior that reminds me of my youth.) Some tryst or other should suffice,” smoking after the fall.

I concede this is not making much sense, I’m trying something, I’m not sure if it’s working, my head is still kind of foggy, and I’m trying to work my way out of it, but I’m just tired, my wrist hurts from some sort of fall, probably on ice, catching myself, off-balance from Miller® Lite™. I don’t feel particularly bad, but I am trying to maintain a consciousness practice, so that I do not become weakened, more prone to injury. The more I sit around and lay around the weaker I become and the easier it is to fall into a sustained slouch. I am aware that I should make my bed and I should file my papers, but it is these little acts of rebellion that make me feel like the rules don’t apply to me and that I am a transcendent being when really I’m a total piece of shit, most of the time acting in ways that contribute to my shittiness as an individual who is soft, smells bad, and is full of bacteria. I go after a zit on my lip I don’t remember being there yesterday like this bruised wrist. The hangover is pretty much the same as usual, something that I start my day seeking to overcome as a sign of power over infirmity. Self-mastery recomposes what has decomposed. What does that unopened bedside beer taste like at 6:55 in the morning? As motivation compels one toward further shittness, and lack of motivation suggests I sit here in my potential, one strategy would be a reorientation of motivating factors, coffee at least. But nah, I’m not even feeling like coffee. All I want to do is lay my head down on my heavy pillow and sleep. Is that even possible?


(1/22)

Not all integrities are sui generis (x²), but the ones that are (unique), drink (XX™).

A series of creative mistakes, unaborted (double-negative), mongrel, litter the floor of her cloister of sorts, her isolated, yet unsanctified, place of ritual. When psychopathy meets sociopathy, worlds collide on a grand scale, where one is insane and the other remorseless. The sociopath will make the psychopath feel sorry since that is about the only thing the psychopath feels and what the sociopath is most curious about.

“What she needs is an entire group of priests, physicians, or general mechanics to make right what her mother couldn’t or father wouldn’t, but what she wants is to drag the little flies she attracts, (spinning a sticky web), one at a time, into pits, no witnesses,” Tim says of his ex-wife, with a fixed smile of half mirth at having the past behind him, and half fear at its potential recurrence. Signs of dominance and submission, weakness disguised as strength and strengths unspoken of except to friends whose respect has been earned. Tim and his brother Bob riposte.

Moments undesirable to relive, is this enough to prove God’s non-existence? If one, made in God’s image, somehow becomes corrupt or perverted through lack of protection, one might think, ‘are there not enough guardian angels or is there some other reason for the wallops?’ Is it so inconceivable to trust an abstract host? One is born into this world through a matrix and of a patrician. At least she thought he had money when she fucked him for his kids!

(1/24)

Had a dream where I was aware of a growing sense of frustration and urgency involving trying to get a group of friends ready for an upcoming flight – time-crunch to also collect belongings that were scattered around town with disorientation as to direction, great distances, and inadequate transportation. Frustration and urgency are often related to urology and this may be related to a phallocentric viewpoint; masturbation, aging, lack of physical activity (being winter (passive, not active)), and not being in a healthy relationship are all relatable to what this dream may be addressing in my own life.

What I am hoping is to not die which may be hopelessly optimistic and thanatophobic. Fearing from experience the mortal peril of being put in one’s place, a potential for hell, which now exists more acutely in my mind than before. My compatriots whose encounter’s durations of exposure to concentrated evil are greater than mine own instill me with confidence that my decisions were both righteous and swift. Their renown for fire-tending ought to be lauded. In my current view, they serve to keep evil at bay, harnessed, from spilling into the streets and setting all ablaze. Their tolerance and trust to lean into a tense and traumatic place ought to be praised for what it is, a preservation of innocence, a maintenance of righteousness, and an endurance of difficulty with its heartening effects. (It’s not for everyone!) While my mental associations may be embittered, my health may be salvageable.

Psychosomatically, healing the body does ease
The mind of a peripheral suffering, but do superficial
Treatments ever directly and fully alleviate that
Suffering whose roots are like iron shackles?

Isn’t sexuality itself egoistic? Sexuality itself is egoistic because it manifests by presenting a persona worthy of selection by antipodal orientations which may serve to undermine the very structure upon which this ego was based (rock solid if secure). If found faulty, this challenge of structure and internal integrity may result in a life-challenging collapse. An implosion of inner-turmoil sends dust-clouds everywhere! Cigarettes down a chimney and dog-hair down a phallus, two startling beasts objectively malign their fucked-up set of circumstances. “You weren’t what I thought when I met you,” is always the case. When one wishes to go on the offensive, one should communicate with one’s partner what is to be righteously gained, no criminal endeavor. If tyrants were made to understand the full extent of the suffering brought to bear by their authoritarianism, would there still be tyranny? Thanatophobia is also a fear of letting go.

A series of summons’ incanted novel chatter, popular to sub off script pro genuine reality, not just for show, demonstrative of disaster, fear, and threat to being that color everyday life a disabused grey. “What we’ve agreed upon, activity-wise, is a dance. Do you accept?” Not being in the habit of light-hearted frivolity, she boringly declines. Into other kinds of secret excitements she refuses to fully elaborate, she’s a freak and that’s been established so what good would it do to comply with some silly request that would only make her feel all the more foolish? Persistent insistence, relay to report, a gathering interior serotonin storm, synapses flash the multitude of lights on a stage screen in orientations that mimic synesthesia with the music’s movements – a deluge! A torrent! Death. Metal. Sigh. She plays with her stainless steel hoop earrings that somehow got stuck in the hole and look infected, a whiff of fermented herring, redness (an intentional distraction?). What is she trying to hide? In truth, much of the freakishness ascribed to others is done to oneself, cold decision-making vs. the force of an onslaught. Of course she denies she’s a victim of every circumstance, and yet, hormones.

Time for a smoke in private, leave early to beat the alcoholic rush (that results in blackout) and watch what used to be an extensive collection of VHS tapes – that vast expanse of duplicates and look-alikes known as the Internet. (Video on Demand). Laugh at an anti-work screed about laziness being a virtue, “…a dog-walker who wants to work less,” Wubby Wu Wei!





“What qualifications/qualities would you like to see in your leadership?”

1) Accepts loss as an inevitability? “Your grace, ‘life goes on’ after ‘decisions are made’ so hopefully one’s decisions are just, that ‘consequence of one’s actions’ are less dire than before, that hopefully one has learned from one’s actions and accepts ownership if ‘mistakes are made.’” Hope, Obama.

2) Doesn’t have to prove value or worth and allows/encourages those around to shine (not burn out).

3) Isn't embarrassing.



Empathy/Sympathy *for* the Devil, an offering that does not validate, because anything that is pro Dev immediately becomes its opposite (a professional becomes a con artist) and creates an oscillating charge. The approval of that which is ultimately disapproved of, one cannot maintain a stance long (shifting sands). This demon knows only consumption, thus Sympathy/Empathy is sucked down, removed from the conceptual soul of a now imperfect character become antihero leaving only antipathy, which is also eventually stripped of meaning down to indifference, and then what? Who cares?! The Source of personality types defined by psychologists (who care to classify) as narcissistic is a victim of becoming abhorrent through association with an all-consuming entity. Unsettled, running around, it’s more difficult to get a clear view due to uncertainty principle, which is powerful knowledge if ascertained. Don’t offer knowledge to an all-consuming entity (it feeds on feeling/emotions) or they will gnash, spit, and regurgitate. To be dispassionate becomes one’s best defense, that is, be a wary observer and scanty.

This is one place I lost myself. I like what I wrote because it helps me remember and process, but I believe the language is garbled and the truth not quite there, even though it is in my mind at the moment. It’s just difficult to articulate in parlance. I need a more detached methodology? I need to adhere to a stricter method? Am I more type A or B? I guess I’m implementing a strategy to work around or through a problem that is perhaps paradoxical, thus only describable, not to be broken down into little bits, but taken as a whole, which is difficult to do in writing since everything is piecemeal. I’m focusing too much on the words and not on the big picture of what I’m attempting to create, which is something I may not even have a great grasp or understanding of yet, but I’m hoping these exercises will help me find a mate who won’t get upset when I express an opinion hastily. I can’t always tell what will upset someone without setting them up? Spikes are for volleyballs, not veins, D.A.R.E.

Evil passes, as everything changes, seasonally. The reaper passes, as everything comes to fruition, in its season. A black sport utility vehicle (not utilized for athletics) passes on a Monday for work, not an organized sporting event. What is sporting about fielding phone calls? A mental gymnast passes, a prickly persona, cartwheels carting crates of cum for freezing for later for detailed analysis. The maximum extractability of resource potential, efficiency secondary to exploitability, a constant supply and ease of access/excess are key.

Regarding masturbation, I think I feel a sense of guilt whenever I 'come to conclusions' because it’s as though I should be celibate so as to save my truckloads of cum for some celestial nympho/slut who’ll tie me up and give me the torture of the soul I need when I am finally able to discover and become acquainted with in some ideal and heavenly fashion if it even exists! I just don’t want to get caught up in the likes of her and her ilk ever again, if possible. Then again, masturbation might just be a culminating massage of the root chakra. What is idealized in a root trance helps determine, like a prayer that is answered manifestly, the conditions aroused. Two people should agree with one another in a broad sense. One should be found agreeable to another, and vice versa, despite flaws, or perhaps in spite of them on occasion, one should not be held in contempt since courtship is an ongoing process, not a trap for flies. So, it’s not any good if you’re only half masturbating and half debating if you should. If there’s any question, masturbation is a method of avoidance, a sign of cowardice, the order of death. If a paltry culture has any chance of survival, it’s not through the consumption of ‘not safe for work’ videos, (the production value is still up for debate). “Stop horsing around, get back to work!” shouts South Park’s Mr. Adler in shop class, losing his head. “I love you, Richard! AHhhhhh” goes the deceased lover of nostalgic ideation to her tragic demise again and again.

Excess puts an unstable mind at ease. Contrary to spaciousness (a sign of poverty in a house) a sense of security may be found in objects to hide behind. Becoming small and compact through the exerted pressure of outside sources arranged in specific array (supports) provide the illusion of supportability. A would-be good husband and family-man courts disaster, a ring-seeking red flag on an open can of Whoop™. Going in with a southern rebel war cry that signifies the initiation of what will result in many-in-a-series traumatic experiences. Not respected as an actual war veteran nor recognized like much child abuse, the gung-ho. What ought to be reopened like cold cases are bad grannies who parented poorly, yet maintained like a criminal discreetly, the illusion of stability. These sad Nans who instilled such irrational fear that as children become adults, the burden of phobia that no one else knows informs the one suffering from irrationality. Burden of proof be damned! Why are some easily perverted while others remain resolute? What constitutes a safe haven and how is that different from a home? How does stubbornness differ from resolution? One who is stubborn is stuck in a bad way, but doing little to nothing to free oneself from one’s stuck-ness. One has only one method of resolving conflict as it may arise like temper to tantrum, and that is ‘do one thing and say another’. Alignment within oneself is surely (has to be!) a metaphysical concept that meditation concentrates the inner-light and alignment like a perfectly cut diamond that refracts and resonates brilliantly. The greater the inner-spaciousness, the further the brightness may penetrate.

"A Good Hot Beer Shit," or, Vituperative Victual

A bum rap is a spanking.

A reputation for homelessness precedes the drifter.

A cold wind blows in from the North Pole, “a sure sign of winter,” jests the weatherman.  It is that time of the month and it certainly feels that way.  Santa returns from the North to recollect underappreciated toys. It’s part of a new, clean of coal (green) policy to distribute gifts to all, but to recall a posteriori, if behaviors remain stubbornly unchanged in the midst of privileged and advantaged opportunity made materially obvious/oblivious to.

Being infantilized, the American public, according to Scott, an underpaid commercial glass specialist. By being made dependent on pandering handouts, striving is rewarded inversely (the more you do, the less you make!)  Capitalism is a stock-pile.  An acquisition specialist accrues useful product that is bound to appreciate.  “Work smarter, not harder,” a collection specialist recalls a poster he saw once, haunts him.  “Handouts and outsourcing,” that generates inflation and the strengthening of foreign powers mandates dependency.  Amazon®, this year strikes new deals with Kohl’s®, U.P.S. ®, and Satan.  As measures of success reach such extreme proportions, the only way to properly evaluate success is on the extension of evil complete with new factories (places devoid of the natural world it has come to replace), jobs, and robotic employment.  Aristocracy’s remittance is measured by philanthropy while their service is met with burden, demand, and taxation.  Machiavelli believes that men, left to their own devices, are prone to evil.  Laws prohibit such action, however overreach of lawmakers is evil in itself by weakening the will to usurp tyrants.

Tom eases his little mind with a drink.

If man has the ability to get drunk or high before/during/ or after work, performance may be effected, but levels of sedition are passed onto the consumer! 

Suspicious professions are had by widowed wives.  A bacteriologist brags about not wearing a mask, knowing.  A knower, aware of what is ‘common’ knowledge and not, parses bullshit many haven’t the time or attention-span to adequately consider. 

A tangled web may incarcerate flies, but what is tininess?  Not exactly a ‘ringing in the ears,’ (a quality of hypersensitivity…).  The endured duration of tininess is actively obdurate (speed at magnitude).  I find myself smaller still.  An unrecognizable mote irritates and my lack of ease becomes a personality trait endured out of sympathy for the survivor of difficult feelings.  Why do bitterness and resentment persist?

Flavoring medicine a’drip – an ad-rep Coca-Cola’s® a bacteriophage, masking intolerability with flavor & simple syrup.  Hoping to further qualify a discomfort, (a stubborn, awkward stance) he floats an opinion of an indelicacy.   “Just a spoonful of high fructose corn syrup helps the medicine go down,” like a bad Mary Poppins. 

A nagging presumption gets under-the-skin, it cuts at what is sidetracked.  Regeneration quells worry.  An autodidact learns the hard way. 

Bag-eyed, perfumed, a heavily Greek maiden takes an Irish shot. Her red-haired, Puma®-hatted husband doom-scrolls.  There’s no opportunity for recompense.  Our fiduciary obstacles are too great. 

Mind and Body Being Two

 

Appearances’ demeanors preclude intent.
Irreconcilable differences – one is hell-bent.

My Adriatic constitution hell-bends toward insolvency (rebellious to the queen). 
Indeterminacy’s tininess’ hypersensitization to impertinently asked questions,

How are her physical pain and her mental anguish not tyrannical to me?
Victim of being, perhaps she wants a big man to overlook her tiny details:

M&BB2

Men, left to their own devices, trend toward evil, become little, distant.  Decreased ability to focus on a train of thought without smartphone assistance, the increasingly dependent (increasingly handicapped) doom-scroll to their own detriment.  Mentality a’ detritus, scatterbrained by a strong wind, adequately feminized for the ruling elite!  And I may be wed through what could be categorized in an extra-sensory-perceptual sense to my unforgiven mistakes that nag as the mental imagery fails to dissipate despite my dissipation – what I dwell-on and resent haunts the meditative flow-state. 

Vituperative victuals! I consider the Dharma-Status of a reincarnated human born under a bad sign. What misdeeds of a former life brought wretchedness upon an unfortunately fated individual?  Considering the theodicy of a Presbyterian…if justice were more than merely a human invention, then it stands to reason that something beyond a normal hominid’s lifetime’s duration may reprove a soul susceptible to conscientiousness.  The future is now because plans are being brandished in accordance with inevitable comeuppance!  Justice Brown (our arbiter) arbitrarily remarks, “Definitions for new words can be guessed at, but the physical manifestation may be too detailed for anything confident, save an outline.”  The court’s rough sketcher scribbles a furry ‘V’ for an eyebrows. 

I browse for a definition, “I think she said ‘scat’ (in her case profile).”

The defendant ‘be-bop-a-doo’s’ while she puts her court-order in.  “Because of her psychological condition that used to be called ‘scatter-brain’ I can’t hold her in contempt,” rues the judge, “mistress so-and-so with the fancy ‘V’, Miss Cartuzy, please state your name and date-of-birth for the audience.

“I ‘n’ Glinda sem for 23-whole,” she scats in ebonics.

“My translator tells me you have worm-worn that outfit, but is that all you have?” Her track-suit has clearly been cut-at with a pair of scissors or sheers.  In another week she’ll send it back for not fitting.  Her sister-accomplice, Glenda (she still retains many masculine characteristics) or Glen-Linda as they prefer to be called, shifts his package, evidence.

“Once my transformation is complete, my name will be Trish, NOT Patricia, and I’ll be 23 in August if this conditioner does what it says,” they say.

The judge and the district attorney deliberate with consideration of the defense’s representative, an over-worked, underpaid native who makes the best of things.  “Her individuality is of a criminal sort, undoubtedly, a house divided amongst itself cannot stand or something like that, however our current formal definition states or indicates that we need to do more to help them find an ennobling application for their efforts, but we also are not at liberty to prevent *slap* self-harm?” as the defense swats a fly away from his face in the hot office.

 

Carpe Diet!  (Seize the food!) Scrolling, seeking iterations, “man does not live on food alone,” the digitized scripture pops-up, presenting modulations on a theme.  How are prayers answered (if they even are)?  There’s no accounting for personal taste, save data-collection as a sort of predetermination of future demand for festoons!  Amazon® knows, (before you even search), what you desire.  Consumerism lacking creativity, thinking inside the brown parcel with a black swoop a la Nike®, no caveat emptor.  Accessorizing saves industry through bullshit charges for needless things in the name of planned obsolescence.  Returns departments waste energy, with the depletion of finite resources (including time), because purchasing power declines with inflation, Stan sends back his shoes that don’t fit instead of giving them to a religious organization that redistributes based on need. 

Out-of-step with current normative functions and fads, perhaps my feelings of isolation/friendlessness are relatively healthy, contrasting hyperactivity.

Dead Horse® Dog Food™ refills on a timer.
Actuarial scientists feed datum into a filtration algo-rhythm.
My spiritual imp vicariously pinches butt-cheeks.

My put-together public persona I wish to maintain, that I feel might escape me without some effort, so that I establish myself (despite crowding) on all the social-media apps except Proximity™ (0b3y™ by Meta®).

 

Copper chasers, fucking without prospects, attracted to the authority, the baton, and the uniform that if they were imbued with such a powerful trinity could easily tyrannize anyone deemed unfit.  (Her physical pain, her mental anguish…)  Without a constitution to guide behavior, civilization descends into barbarianism and anarchy.  What many fail to recognize is that an individual may be anarchic if one’s own constitution is unfit.  Shitty behavior vis.  Many manifest a reality that is more chaotic than is sustainable for life.  Feeling feelings without qualification allows free passage.

Fauci, selling pseudoscience less effective than pseudoephedrine, is too short to not be intimately affiliated with Gringott’s!  Not that there’s anything wrong with bank management, but there is something wrong with misrepresentation of rolê as it constitutes an existential indicator of bad faith.  Quit your job and find your true calling like the rest of us, sir!

Tad Palisade wishes he were froggier. 

The best time to smoke is in the morning ((like a) crackpot) when it is appropriate to inhale the day’s nebulousness and make plans.

A leper is a social outcast, esp. one with a skin condition (tattoos count).

Transphobia, from an old white man’s perspective, is based on an education on what are social ills and how to recognize them, including communism, drugs, and homosexuality.  The resulting feminization (from a dualistic perspective) is toxic to masculinity as its diametric opposite.  An opposition to the idea of gender fluidity is formed in such a way that it evokes an inflammatory immune response in the individual, suffering the weakened immune system of a society gone to pot!  “I don’t care what you say, it’s under my control!” is a typical masculine response to concepts related to health and sexuality.  Celibacy can be virtuous, as courting sexual favor is ultimately a choice.  @JizzSniper69 attempts a character assassination on Twitter, “White-male privileged transphobia is a cis-gender bias that chaotic personality-types do not deserve as much consideration as orderly ones.  Just because Justice Brown has her shit together is no reason to denigrate the colic of another!”

“I didn’t want to tell you what to wear,” what to eat, to deny your freedom, but life in a cell only seems the safer option to participation in life (giving) events.  Putting form to chaos, he shapes her shiftiness.  He sees her slyly texting one-liners, smiling inwardly, smirking, proud of herself that she got one off on some lessor, taking up their mental real-estate, (the less expansive, the unimaginative).  He looks straight through her and he can already imagine what it’d be like to have her in bed (balled up and gagged), having had whores like her before, he was suddenly overcome with goodness as the result of his sexually congressional conquests to be bothered by some stupid pussy and became pusillanimous by closing his mind to the notion of what’s good about sexuality (differentiation), instead focusing on his confluence of losses he apparently has yet to learn from as expenses become exponential because of baseline appetites increasing.  Fear is rational, it is based on an assessment of vengefulness, which will always be lied about if it exists, as lying is tactful when it comes to undermining and confusing an enemy’s knowledge-base.  “Can I trust this person?” is primary for friendship.  Pumping is a form of processing, and then Tad remembered he was at a bar and not in a gym or amongst the gymnosperms, jogging.  Mad at himself for knowing better, he seeks an outlet to vent his frustrations, “Can you plug this in for me?” forgetting please, “it’s low on battery,” he accosts the bartender, used to that form of abuse.

“Sure, hon,” he expected her to say acquiescently, but having her own epiphany, she suddenly recognized she was better than this guy and continued her willful ignorance of his foolishness, the most socially acceptable form of closed (tab) mindedness, now aware of patterns of harm.  Her mementos, “I’m a Cuckoo” tattooed, reminiscent of Tweety, she reminisces a lover whose Olympus was a type of Greek aesthetic he found seductive (to a point).  The needling began as a pang which morphed into an angst which made him feel as tiny as an angstrom.  Thurman (a weekly patron) reaches out to Tad.

“What’s troubling you, son?” a patronymic ally.

“Lord Anthony, I love this old trollop’s guts, but I recognize it as a fool’s errand to linger there.”

“What you describe is a problem mankind suffers.”  Everyone is bound to suffer some kind or type of iniquity, existential or physical attacks on being.  Because of this, there exists the tempting nirvanic honor of being in nothingness, cloaked in a cloud of smoke manifested by some classically demonic (Faustian) force field.  Being in a state of loss-of-control, she sees things slipping away constantly as if into the ether right in front of her.  The choices she made had become predetermining factors.

“Everything is flat and dreary,” she voice commands into Proximity™.