I just found out about this kind of love.
And it’s good, because up to that point I didn’t know what I was doing.
For example, I’ve tried to be self indulgent and self medicate with various oils and unguents that engender self abnegation.
But I got bored with it,
It just ended up with anomie and another thing that means listless boredom with the rewards that slightly highlighted spinning out evinces.
Fucking rubbish, in other words.
But then I discovered stalwart love. The immovable rock in the face of every vicissitude, especially those breaking over from those loved.
It doesn’t matter if you don’t get back any recognition of what you do, you do it because of stalwart love.
You do it because you have that in you, in spite of and with lack of spite.
You won’t get rewarded, and doubly top won’t if you claim it, any hammer and chisel for stalwart love.
April 6, 2014 at 4:24pm
The self defeating idea we’re running in a simulation
We’re running in a universe wide simulation which allows us to have the idea we’re in a simulation. Therefore, at some point in the future, we ourselves will run a simulation that will start off pretty crap, and have glitches in it like dark matter and X factor.
Then, as it gets refined, we’ll finally understand life is the emergent phenomena that can only be described with symbols. Something, something, god.
Why solipsism is bollocks unless perceived as a time series
Solipsism means there’s nothing but you, and everything you perceive is conjured up out of your imagination.
Then at least there is you and your imagination. You that perceives things, and your imagination that sets up things for you to perceive.
So either your imagination is an entirely separate being with its own obscure agenda for arranging events for you, or it’s you, slightly in the future, being a dick.
The inability to be a hermit
There’s some primal urge to be alone that can’t be done, because cutting off all connections means probably eaten by bears.
Life as an idea of parameters accepted takes definition from the boundaries.
For example, you can’t have an inside without an outside to keep it in.
You can’t have nice things, because that they are nice is not defined by you.
That’s my fucking juniper bush is predicated on your acceptance of the consensual illusion that juniper bushes exist, they are mine and not yours, and therefore you exist.
Up The Slope by jameskhoo
In like a lion…out like a lion.
On the fucking thing
On the idea that I haven’t got anything to say
That makes a mountain of this mole hill
This tiny amount of grey belief tokens that you can get
From the square deal fuck knuckle
Who passes them out just down the stares
The wall eyed mendicant with squeezed out eye
Looking like he hasn’t the broken fritillary
We all have a thing
That wills us to stop being human
For long enough to manipulate
Our actions to produce more food
For the fully satiated
We all have a reason to beg
For forgiveness for a thing
We’re unsure ever mattered
But we must believe it did
To justify our suffering