 |
Current mood:  pensive
To the spiritual collective, my reflective others, to you who i have met in my dreams, to my homies, my friends, my motherfucker redeemers.
I felt as if i had embarked on a spiritual journey, again-for the fucking millionth time. I didn't know entirely what I was looking for-or if I would get any answers that differed from previous psychedelic and euphoric experiences..but I had been longing for..something, something actually specific and not so wrapped up in a vague cliche. I was off to find some deeper meaning, some softer, more subtle-more tangible truth. I wanted to correlate the beauty of the world to the peace within me that already flowed-i wanted something that I could actually apply to my every day basic human-survival. A meaning I could memorize, or one that I actually didn't have to. I think I also aimed to not only refine my answers from the entirety of my life, a mere 23 years alive-but to hopefully pose better questions. Not just simple whys and hows or why the fuck am I heres. A part of me also wanted some poetic justification for my "why don't I do better if I know better?"
It was a stoned and pensive drive to austin-it was around midday when i started heading west. I made love early in the morning which is the perfect beginning to any travel-like a soldier of fortune of on a spiritual war sent off to battle himself and his primal nature. Imbuing the fetus of my future thoughts with the hope of coming 'home' to the warmth, love and affection of the most gentle girl I know. I think every meaning of life could already be found in the smallest gestures of affection between lovers and friends. What else can keep us going so well? a lust for love and a love for lust. When us three huddled outside in the sharp cold for warmth as we killed ourselves with smoke..moments like that keep me going. It doesn't even have a meaning, it's just Right Action.
The sky was dark and ominously whirring with gray clouds flowing like a primordial atmosphere over an arcane territory. Similar effects were taking part in my soul and my chakras were like the crashing waves of the ending wisps of a new born star. My frontal lobe and abstract thought was the main thing keeping me sane. I was there in the driver's seat, but not there at all.
I faded into Austin city limits with an open mindset. I got lost trying to find Ishan's apartment. I kept making passes around this highway patrol station where a graveyard of old police cars lay barren and mangled by rust and collision. A fucking dead pig pit of solidified tar and shattered glass and twisted metal.
When we finally rendezvoused at his apartment's parking lot-i was immediately asked by him to hop in his car. We needed to go grocery shopping..I silently roared Liberty. I felt like a lion asking the lioness to fetch our prey, my black and white checkered keffiyeh being my mane. We went to local food co-op and I watched the hippies with the..ir earthy and estranged appearances float around me and smile their jolly smiles. It was like having genuine conversations with strangers with the medium of intellectual intercourse being the twinkle in our eyes. An orchestra of facial expression and mannerisms unfolding fables of sentiment like an orchid star. I remember mint soap, four small cartons of strawberries, 12 bottles of water, and some other random shit on our trip list. The general consensus also called for.."toys" We went to buffalo exchange-which is a really fucking cool place(right next to Toy Joy around Gaudalupe and something..?). I would love to meander the streets sporting a wardrobe with sentimentality, quaintness, and such unique design. At the thrift shop, there was a campaign being sponsored at the store that asked for people to donate their furs. The fur coats, or what have you, would then be given back to orphaned animals in shelters. There was a picture of a puppy all wrapped up in a cage with a some fur coat usnder it. These sort of things are nice. But I still find if fucked up. A dog wearing his cousin the mink or something like that. It'd be like an orphaned me cuddling with the skin of a hispanic or something. Yeah, totally different-but still. What if the puppy got scared...I'd expect life or some movement from the "fur" i was sleeping in...eyes even. Why isn't the money to maintain this cause sued to buy simple cushions for all shelters?
Why do we even keep life in cages? I read an article about Prague very recently. The orphanages and care-homes that have physically and mentally disabled children in them still use caged beds. There is literally a fucking cage over the bed some of them. There are kids who live for years in that bed, the investigavtive reporters interviewed them and they were broken spirits. They treated them like animals, only lifting up the cage to fix the sheet, not touching them, and slightly patting their heads. These care homes are out in the country in rural areas far from the city. There was a child who had been living in one of the cage beds for almost 12 years, because they are supposedly dangerous to themselves and others..It's so fucking twisted. The investigators were pposing as people who wanted to give charity. They worked for the UN and was doing this undercover. The UN sent in investigators.. and found kids still in cages. The UN actually finds something, and they don't do shit..These are our fucking weapons of mass destruction: The indifference of good people.. Why do we keep humans alive when even their own sense of hope is broken? Am I evil, or ignorant, or weak for asking why we don't end the life of creatures that have no hope for genuine warmth, acceptance or care? No hope for a home of any sort. I don't think we're keeping them alive for their sake, I think it's for ours. I don't even know if God is in the picture at this point.. I don't know. What would happen if all the stray animals and humans, all the organisms shunned by society, all the disabled and dangerous orphaned living things were put out of their suffering? Are they really suffering..or are they just happy to be alive? Maybe the only thing that they are scared of is the actual pain upon death..and they lay there longing for eternal sleep.... This is only one very small injustice in the world of injustices..so it pretty much makes almost no difference. I think we are all fooling ourselves. I thought life was sacred. I thought everything had purpose. At once I thought this letter to you all had a purpose..I wonder.
Fuck. Whatever. So, I think at this point Ishan and I went to various sex shops looking for body paint and leg warmers. Pink fuzzy stripper leg warmers. Can you imagine two random brown fellows walking into your store asking for such things? With our bag of tricks, we all met up. Prinon and I took our little windows of truth. We let the chemicals sizzle on our tongues and a mischievous grin formed on the horizons of our spirit. You are my horizon. What hapened during the following hours were.. well, blissful, agonizing, transcendental, maniacal, hedonistic, calming, awkward, tranquil, insane, colorful, respectful, degrading, hollow, morbid, raging, fucked up, orgasmic, fiery and infinite. It was everything, and nothing. Everything was literally everything, and maybe just a dash of nothing. My third eye felt so open that it's lashes were elongated to the extent that it pierced my back and sprout wings of light at my shoulder blades. I was a fallen angel. I felt ravenous and fierce. I felt confident. I felt so fucking alive. I was desperate for life to strike me with a bolt of lightning hotter than the surface of the sun. I wanted my inhibitions to solar-flare away from my conscious being. I wanted my ideas to fuck each other. I was a being of pure desire. But what am I off of LSD? Am I a product of my desires, or are my desires a product of me? Hours later I felt used. It was all an illusion. A chemical reaction. Nothing was real. The only thing that was real was physical suffering. I felt cleansed, though. My mind was a desert. My mind felt the discipline of logical experience. Discipline? Or shall we say fuzzy chain that keeps us lazy with sanity?
So what the fuck have I been looking for? Well, everything. But what am I meant to find? I think I am meant to find very, extremely, small glimpses of beauty and truth amongst a twisted, fucked up, hypocritical, ethically raped, spiritually ravaged, consumer/capitalist infested, dark, selfish, money hungry, confused and frighted fucking world-and then, to actually make something. Make love, and it will be beautiful-that is the truth. Or at least mine. And it's only one.
I'm sorry my friends. For all of this which is so random. There is just so much I want to say to each and every one of you. So much I wish I could reveal to myself. But what? What's the point? Does it matter where I've been? Or does it matter what I have noticed? Does it matter what I have found? Or does it matter more of what I have made? And we can't keep making sweet talk all the time. I have spoken with you all and had conversations that have seriously made me in moments. I don't entirely remember all the words we have shared with each other, but I do have strong remnants of the emotion lodged in my memory like the shards of a gem-every facet catching the light of my inner appreciation as if an act of worship emanating from the depths of my soul. I have shared some fucking sweet and intense thoughts with you.
That's why we so thoroughly fucking enjoy fierce action. Hard music, cold nights, bright moons, deep kisses, long inhales, vulgar and thought provoking words, sexual innuendos, bizarre comedy, hard liquor, pure coke, piercing glances..dilated pupils.
But we can't have it like that all the time. There's this shit called laughter where things are supposed to be funny. Like we deserve some random distraction from the true state of the world to keep us going so that we aren't overloaded with the intensity of the harshness of reality. Laughing is like yawning when our brains aren't getting enough oxygen and our minds aren't getting enough...whatever the fuck it is I am so aimlessly rambling about, i suppose. But that's okay. It's actually good sometimes. And what the fuck do I know? Whatever it is I have or am, I would like to attribute a significant part of it being on the reflection of you. You who is reading this. Okay, maybe not significant, but the part of me that is attributed to my reflected happiness..wait, i think happiness is important along the line. I like to think of myself as a reactionary artist, and a thief. And a cat, and a moon. That whatever knowledge I have is not my own, just like the moon's light is not its own-and that all that is said and done between us all and within ourselves is just the echoes of divinely inspired physics. Divinely inspired physics? Wait, that can't be entirely right..but it sounds nice. Everything that has been shared between us can't be classified. It's too mysterious, and beautiful and fucked up. And that I am ever so grateful for what I've experienced in the simple thought of you, the meeting of you, the embrace, the humanistic recognition, the emotional and intellectual ties, the nothings and the everythings over the past of the ever knowing of you. I humbly thank you. Next I see you there probably won't be as many words as I'd like there to be, and possibly more laughter than is appropriate-less intensity and more going by because it seems all efforts are futile. I don't just want to get by with poetry, I want to actually go somewhere in reality. To make that actually happen I think I need to wear a suit and tie as opposed to the robe of a sage with a walking stick. Maybe not to that extreme, but a level of conformity I suppose. The world is more like that now. I find it hard to find people to share in my dream world circus of fantasy and transcendentalism. But maybe I don't many others. Maybe it's just trying to find a balance of how much we should care, and how much we shouldn't. Whatever we do, whatever we feel that we have to do to get to where we feel we need to be, well-and no matter what, there's each other. Woa-that sounds really gooshy/hallmarky, sorry.. As long as you and our friends are on the way, well-ya, that's it. I guess that's it. I guess just keep on doing what we do, but with some remembrance of the potential of our collective. Wisdom isn't always detachment from worldly pleasures. Maybe it's okay to be selfish once in a while, maybe there's a reason why we don't use the money we spend on getting fucked up to actually donate to a worthy cause. Who knows? I don't like how this is ending, I think I came close to whatever I was wanting to expel from my veins earlier in this ramble, I think you found it. In any case, my music has been making me lately. Until again.
Genuinely,
adel
 | Currently listening:
Ma Fleur
By The Cinematic Orchestra
Release date: 05 June, 2007 |
|
Powered by  | | English | | Albanian | | Arabic | | Bulgarian | | Catalan | | Chinese | | Croatian | | Czech | | Danish | | Dutch | | Estonian | | Filipino | | Finnish | | French | | Galician | | German | | Greek | | Hebrew | | Hindi | | Hungarian | | Indonesian | | Italian | | Japanese | | Korean | | Latvian | | Lithuanian | | Maltese | | Norwegian | | Polish | | Portuguese | | Romanian | | Russian | | Serbian | | Slovak | | Slovenian | | Spanish | | Swedish | | Thai | | Turkish | | Ukrainian | | Vietnamese |
|