Random Boo

The mind is eternal, infinite, and spiritually potential. Unlike the encompassing body, it exists outside space and time. The body is not eternal and infinite, but instead decays and is webbed into the delusional reality matrix of now and here.
My reflection incarcerates me, envelopes me in a nauseating consciousness. Why? It nauseates me because I’m no longer free; I’m no longer infinite. Infinite means having no limits, and having no limits means beginning and ending nowhere, encompassing everything everywhere always. Therefore, from the point of view of an infinite being, nothing exists but it; it is totally, absolutely, and unconditionally everything and all that there is. To an un-reflected me, there are no others, not even the concept ‘others’. No ‘me’, no ‘you’, no ‘we’ no ‘they’ no ‘this’, no ‘that’, no ‘these’, no ‘those’. There is only ‘I’. In the entire Universe, there is only one identity, and it is ‘I’. It is that, no matter how many things may seem to you to exist, from the point of view of an infinite me, there exists only one thing, in only one place, at only one time, and all of that is and always is wholly itself, I.
By definition, I is mind and mind encompasses, or includes, or is, everything that there is, and therefore there exists — there can exist — no thing, no where, and no when, which it is not. Whatever is, it is. That is what being infinite is; living in the mind, means: Having no limits of any kind. No beginning and no end, no fixed centre and no circumference. No boundaries of any kind, neither in time nor in space, or in any other dimension; no specific form, either physical or conceptual, no name and no shape.
In order to make proper use of a mirror, a viewer must be able to distinguish himself or herself from everything else reflected in the glass, not to mention from the glass itself, and the room in which it is located, and the time and the space in which the reflection is occurring. It’s this reality that troubles me, bounds and limits me to self. I become no longer infinite; I’m dying.

In an orgy of self-pity a man can commit things he believes imperative. They succumb to the fabricated sensations of pleasure galore, conceived by the overindulgence of gluttony and self-physiological-gratification.  Red plonk, cigarettes, and cake are all that is needed in this symphony of artistic contempt.  Stimulating intoxication feeds on the self-pitying demoralized sloths, and so the wretched misery surges. Depression is the product of an epiphany, there is no paranoia about being alone in this godforsaken world, for you are alone. You see depression is not a mental illness, sometimes it’s just a light in a room best kept in the dark.

I’m currently in exploration for a new mobile phone after the novelty of possessing a touch screen phone has become less a joy and more an irritation. My present phone is the Sony Ericsson P1i, big, heavy, and has crashed more times than the American stock market. I’m at present with the O2 network so naturally I’m limited to what phones I can choose from. I can say after browsing though the latest publication of phone releases that there is not a single mobile phone listed within the eight shiny pages that I desire. I don’t want any of this, crap! I don’t want an 8.1MP camera with face-recognition and built in Wi-Fi, DVD recorder, walkman features, GPS, surround sound, disco lights, Facebook updater, and a touch screen finger print password reader. I miss my old phone, the one that had a feature to allow you to just ring someone. Now I can’t even telephone someone devoid of having to sit a degree in mathematics just to permit me to calculate the dialogues rate.  It’s 10p a minute except after six pending the squandering of the first three minutes on a friend of the same network minus O2 bolt-ons. Then there’s the exasperating beep beep it blurts out followed by a depiction of an envelope. ‘You Have Mail’ Oh wonderful, “wi8 ur turn b4 u rply pls lol 2nite b gr8 Spk 2 u l8r coz i lyl cul LC x” and there’s me thinking the Scottish where bad. Anyway, to end this complaining, I’m going to cheer myself up, by sending an anonymous text to someone random saying “I hate you, please die!”

There are one hundred and twenty five billion galaxies in the universe, each containing over a hundred billion stars spiralling aimlessly. It is here on one of these stars the floating corpse of a planet labelled Earth is staged; infected with over six and a half billion bewildered glorified monkeys. Every orbit of the star this godforsaken rock completes the monkeys run! Vomiting incoherent dribble pointlessly into cellular phones and purchasing high definition televisions, so they can observe other monkeys perform this pointless ritual of socializing. Obtaining bigger, faster, louder vehicles and bigger greater houses in the hope of attracting a mate, so they can spawn additional monkeys like bacteria and infest further still! On and on like a never ending circus performing, always performing, meaninglessly. This irrational, illogical behaviour is madness!
Yet despite this madness being apparent they chose to ignore. Their innate morals are inherited and their justice system dogmatic. They criticize law and complain unconstructively then follow regardless. They conceive concepts like evil to label sly motives and natural obstructionism. They put their faith in the penning of past and claim inconsistencies the work of a devil.  They claim a dice throw justifies a saint. They claim to be righteous and virtuously good, despite an egotistic anticipation of contentment galore. Then they condemn a theorist and start a never-ending war.