Thursday, March 2, 2017

new mandates on a design for undoing

talk less and breathe more often. 
chew one's food deliberately.
embrace mundanity cheerfully.
practice envy with grace and mirth.
make friends with shame. 
suicide a little everyday.
as a passenger in self.
detach. detach. detach.
become the discarded.
lie at the oceans bottom.
forever and ever. 

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

these things happen...

we are not immune to the prevailing winds, and as such have again succumbed to ambition. we are no longer alone, or feeble. we have found power in the moment and have largely abandoned all forms of masterbation.

and this being the largest of them all... 

good bye. 

Monday, February 15, 2016

killing time with loose bowels.

We were told not to keep pets. Some guys interpreted this as wholesale war on all the animals in town. Dogs bared the brunt of our malaise. There was so many of them. It wasn’t just the young guys that tortured the dogs. One platoon sergeant used to hurl rocks at any canine that had the misfortune of wandering into our perimeter. He took pleasure from this. He looked forward to the opportunity to kill someone. This wasn’t the place for that. So why not fuck with the dogs? We were told that animals harbored disease, and that letting them into your AO was unsanitary. They had a special MOS that controlled animals. They would come in and remove a persistent animal. Some of the animal control people were women. That was nice. Slingshots became prevalent, either homemade or sent from home. I had a real beauty. Shooting the animals passed the time. The animals weren’t the real targets. Time was. I used to chew sunflower seeds when I was on the gun. Sticking out of the turret, I would try to spit the shells at the locals who either drove, or walked by. That passed the time as well.  

Sunday, August 30, 2015


one of our more influential profs would say, "I don't know." quite a bit. the student would ask a questions, and he would reply, "oh... ... I don't know..."

he would inevitably answer the question with more questions. 

that's good stuff. 

that kind of preface seemed admirable.

so... we've adopted this into our own dialectic. 

it's difficult to discuss nihilism without mentioning 'belief'. for the earnest nihilist rejects everything. it's not just simple dis-'belief'.

dis-belief would assumes there's some-thing after the hyphen.

there is not. 

so how does one discuss nihilism without lending credence towards belief?

furthermore can one remain nihilist, while espousing nihilism? 

before the dialogue even begins, there are assumptions...

the words,

"I believe in [blank]."


"I don't believe in [blank]."

already accepts the basic premise of the word "belief". so how does one reject it, without ever uttering the word itself? particularly when the word so closely matches other words used to discuss it..?

we've always preferred the term 'value' over 'belief'. value seems to get to the root of things easier (and it doesn't go off accidentally like the loaded gun that is the latter). even the most mild-mannered persons can get very defensive and irate when their beliefs are challenged. yet, seem open-minded to discuss the value of things. also, value seems more appropriate to the discourse since it comes 'before the hyphen' so to speak. in other words, we are not discussing the 'what' of belief, but the 'how'...

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

perchance to dream

wide awake, we climb into the new bed, with a new book, knowing that there's old tasks left undone.

outside there's only discomfort, pain, and burdens. we can squirm in a chair and suffer through the rantings of another ontological orangutan, or lie-down and enjoy the sweet lullaby of nothing.

why choose to stand when one can sit? why choose to sit when one can lie-down? why be awake when one can sleep? Why talk? Why move?

perhaps, like the light makes the dark, and the dark makes the day - the agonies of being upright, and picking the fleas off a fellow-ape, make for more leisure... later?

never postpone leisure. bank it! we never will know when calamity will strike and we'll have to endure a foray into displeasurable commerce with another homo-erectus. 

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

my bitch is ironic

full-circle: back to grinding out subsistence, in the same occupation (that catapulted us into service some 20 years past).

and we're exactly the same as we were then. still plagued by phantom ambition. still moping through the drudgery of filth & stink. it's hot, loud, and boringasfuck.

irony is not a subtle bitch either. 

not only is said misery exactly the same, but it's in the precisely same location. the names have changed (including ours) but everything else has not. 

yet now there's actual physical pain to accompany the slow-death-by-hourly-wage. the ache once only felt in this spirit is now deep within the bones and its crying out feebly for mercy.