Random Boo

David, David! What’s that you’re doing with your sister in the basement? Your Id is your ego, which then is influenced by the oppression of society, society being the misinterpreted ego of mass. Some daydream’s foreplay conceived a subjective superego, and now translated by an orgy of craven clay-brained conformists, man is ruled.  “And the pup bit the hand of God, and God saw that the pup was evil, and in forty days and forty nights he drowned the entire litter, for God is a gentle, patient, and loving God, amen”. God never changes his mind, unless he changes his mind, God is everywhere, God is, oh, hang on, Able has gone missing again, I’ll ask Cain. I must tell him that it is bad to eat the apple that gives him an understanding of what bad is, and then he can eat cream and honey.  
Once upon a time, a book of ethical guidance was required as part of a healthy diet for the developing disposition of humanity. Now it is the day before tomorrow, and humanity is past the setting of dawn, said progression is due a surge. The cultivating of the third eye is the flicking of a light switch to a room that is, until now, best kept in the dark. The Roman Empire is unified, scaremongering children has concluded, and there is no longer a savoury sin to basin wash your odiferous brow. Leave the auriferous pipedreams for them that hold the pitchforks.
RE: Christian Fundamentalist groups (which are about legion as the atheists)
Please stop, just stop, with this “must be a God; it says so in the bible” stuff and inflicting your hostile and sadistic attacks on the opinions of thinkers. Self-elected goons representing the American Christian male community, who spend all day on the internet masturbating over a keyboard whilst searching YouTube for fights, you should be hung like the sodden rags you are. Ha, I have your SunnyD, drinkless, what you going to do about it you creationistic parasitic cretin, how you going to pretend to be drunk now? Get back to Mummy’s house and tidy your stained-Cliff Richard-poster-riddled-room, you left-winged hippie, you left your Velcro shoes in the middle of the hallway again haven’t you, you artless fuckw*t? You lily-livered, Beano reading, bootless, barnacle, referring to your online Facebook friend linked acquaintances as ‘heads’. You’re the result of a drunken back-seat grope-fest and a broken prophylactic, yet you consider yourself my saviour.  So bloody go to Heaven then, and swap knitting patterns with your hymn singing, turtleneck reindeer jumper wearing virgin friends, maybe they’ll let you watch Spice World, oh, you have it downloaded do you. Well congratulations, you’ve somehow successfully managed to make piracy gay! You’re the kind of person that applies to be an actor and ends up playing the flamboyant policeman on Balamory, you quartz-brained puny ninnyhammer, you vexing helminth with your Art collage bus pass and Chris de Burgh music CD collection. Go and prance about on the M6 in the dark you moronic wannabe, you’ll soon see the light. Do you really think God would approve of your dogmatic internet-gangster routine? I know I should just let you get on with it, but it irritates me.
It’s like a Jack in a box; you turn the crank, a puppet jumps out, everybody cheers, and I die a little inside.

Numerous born and countless dead, in a world of dreams and nightmares, it’s crowded in here. Put the milk in the cup first, your divergence is the testimony to your madness. Pick a cat and provoke a fight, hands on table, lips pursed, and, go! Retreat, then, into the hours of night, which is your deluded haven, “be polite”. Society is a symphony of logic, but only on paper, it burdens the creative individuals that can potentially generate the spark, which becomes the flicker of light in a room of darkness. The weirdoes become eccentric, the eccentrics become geniuses; don’t underestimate what you cannot evaluate. Time continues regardless, you don’t, so ‘heads up’, judgement day is a comin’, accept the leaflet, and donate the two pounds. You know how to whistle, don’t cha Steve? Heaven is paradise, but for who is the fantasy tailored? Oh, and duck! Ha, you actually believe something sympathetic can willingly conceive a concept such as Hell? Lies! Lie more times than a cheap Japanese watch. God, you are submissive to the oppression of mass, fear not the Spanish Inquisition. Mackerel sky and mares’ tails make lofty ships carry low sails. All the cats will go and the million pigeons remain, ready to be hooked on new religions, clip your wings and fly to Daddy. Existence is a toss of a nickel. The fizz is in decline, gulp it quick or slurp it flat; you can’t quantify life, don’t squander it in trepidation. They do do though don’t they though? Patriotic vitriolic potatoes in uniform make horrific cheesecake. The field is overflowing with sheep, thank you Mr Jintao, don’t ask Reagan for help; he has a cold. Four horsemen with an arrow of time, good show Friedrich Heine, shame about Thor, must have been looking for North. Welcome to the Oscillatory Universe; are you ready for The Crunch? Look in my bag of entropy, there’s a Big Rip; you can blame Caldwell for that. Uh oh, St John is on the punch again, oh look at who’s the messiah; “it’s all who you know”. It’s getting hot, no cold, HIV, HMV, oh mind your step, there’s a Meteorite there, just push the red button and it’ll all go away. Say what you see Mr Chips, “fat lady singing?” and so our survey says *uh uh* No sorry; death is not on the ‘to do’ list. Just row your boat down the stream, life is just a dream. And in 2012, when you’re up to your knees in snow sunbathing twenty-four foot under the sea, raise your glass to the invading aliens and say “chin chin old chap”.

I couldn’t care less if your mobile phone could err, sharpen pencils! My phone can call people, which is odd isn’t it, considering that is why I brought the dame thing! It’s quite depressing that I’m the one considered ‘odd’ in a world full of trivial monkeys nervously shouting “that’s Spartacus there!”  Whilst, like illuminated crickets, they text people stood next to them ‘did ya get me txt?”
Materialism is a burden on your disposition, like baggage of ‘this is me’; like vomit in an ASDA plastic bag with one of them paper miniature umbrellas that you usually find in cocktails. With the aforementioned yoke carried, you’ll fail to fall through the self-sieving that is, what is, the development of constructing a constructive experience of your experience, err, hang on. Your glass maybe half full now, but there is no escaping the fact that the glass is also half empty. Happiness is a temporary distraction. Every distraction and every obstacle is a cause of concern and an obstruction in your will, that is, by you, labelled ‘evil’. He whose desires are in difference in comparison to yours is wrong; he who blocks you from your destination is ‘evil’. Revenge is wrong and unnecessary, unless said act is committed by you, apparently, by your innate logic anyway. Man serves himself, and his neighbours loathe it, as it interferes with their self-interest.
What is ‘evil’? Do you think, really, that the universe has any concept of ‘evil’? If in musical chairs you lose, then you lose, and that is ‘life’ as they say, whoever ‘they’ are, presumably a bunch of haughty, overpaid, overfed, triple chinned hermits sat round a table inventing job titles.
Praying to a God for a ‘get out of jail free card’ is simply just being arrogantly delusional. You are naturally polarising your perception by naively ranking yourself above standard on the goodness scale, stop it! You are not God, kinda. The dichotomy of good and evil is either a lack of knowledge or a refusal of acceptance; crowning one evil is the equivalent of “ask your mother” in this dynamic world of bigger houses and noisier cars, where charity is collateral, and love a token unity.
Rivalry is the mother of development, but development is then the product of envy, thus unjustifiable outrage is the frustration of man and the architect of war, thus rendering the ignorant monkeys forever belligerently unsettled.  Ok, to some, life is a game, and to win a game, everyone else must lose! True, but, unlike the duration, life is not relative, define winning before you throw the dice.

He didn’t look happy.
I have stuff to worry about, he said.
He then furrowed his eyebrows.
Sh*t, he said. Fuck*ng sh*t.
This went on for a while. And then:
Oh no, he said. Oh no!
What? I said.
Sh*t! he said.
He was really into it.

So I was hula hooping naked whilst singing Surfin Bird by The Trashmen, just like I do every Sunday morning, when a woman started staring at me from across the street. Seriously, she just stared for a good 10 minutes, with a face like a bulldog licking p*ss of a nettle. Why do people have to be so weird? When children are young, they learn what it means to be inside or outside of their home. Food can be inside or outside of the oven. Dogs can be inside or outside of their kennels. It occurs to them that “inside” and “outside” are terms with wide applicability. So what is outside the universe? There are monsters, hungry monsters, which eat little children who ask too many questions. And rightly so, children are horridly spoilt now, new car, caviar, what did I get as a child? Chicken pox is all I can recall.

My religion says you have to conclude that your own ability to conclude things is faulty, she said.
That’s the only way any of it makes any sense.
I conclude that your religion is faulty, he said.
She concluded that too, but she concluded that her conclusion was false.
So you believe in it too? she said.

In the words of I, even a stopped clock tells the right time twice a day…

Time, and the very existence of everything that is the human concept of reality, is the measurement of what is potentially, immeasurably potential.  Emotions, fear, hate, pain, joy, love, and so on, are conceived to sustain the organism’s existence, and are required to develop what is better known as ‘experience’.  Consciousness is the ability to observe what you think is reality. We’re intimately hooked into the very existence of reality, without observation there would just be, this, expanding superposition of possibilities, with nothing definite ever actually happening.  Every attempt spent on studying particles beyond a certain level, is flawed by the very act of studying. There is no one electron; an electron or any elementary particle exists only in relationship to other particles, or even the universe at large. This means that deeply enough, when you dive down into the nature of matter, everything we know about the everyday world dissolves. There are no objects any more, there are only relationships. There is no locality anymore; there is no time anymore. The more you look at something in detail and what we think of as solid matter, the less solid it begins to look.
The only realities we know are the ones our brain manufactures. A brain receives millions of signals every minute, and we organize them into holograms which we project outside ourselves and label reality. Everything you smell, taste, feel, and see, are simply electrical signals interoperated by your brain. However, it is this very said ‘hologram’ that creates what is, although not, essentially real; what you see as existence, is so because you observe it as, what is, existent. The fabricated reality is reality because you defined the observation that you have presented yourself with. A spatula has the ‘potential’ to turn into a pink elephant, it doesn’t because of consciousness and its perceived concept of the reality it is presented and is collectively responsible for. So, more interestingly, what is then the raison d’être of our consciousness? Is sustaining the existence of what is existence to us the meaning of life?

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.

Alone I am perched upon my rigid chair within my frigid chamber. It’s dark and gloomy, deeply obscured by inky shadows devouring the warmth, devouring the very soul, devouring the very existence of the room. Only the echoing pulsation of a clock drumming its piecing rhythm remains. This is my chamber, this is my life. I find myself lost in a pointless void, with neither reason nor benefit to persevere life. What be the purpose in such a life I am burdened with, hampered, trapped in the restraining chain of anxiety that be the very existence of I? I’m a talent-less fool with nothing but a dream I can not translate, nothing but a concept of life I can not understand, like an inkless pen I stand here inanimate, in the shadow of my own dream, a nonentity. With all my sins and foul judgements, I am not disorientated, adrift, or astray, I am lost. Everyday this tormenting reminiscence tickles my throat, a sort of displacing and desiccated feel that submits me to sensations of sickness. I can’t even look myself in the mirror anymore without diverse feelings of defeatism and loathing as my mind becomes segregated from me. I seem to have washed my hands of myself in an attempt to rid myself of hurt and hate, I am not me, and I will never want to be.  I welcome the utopia of death, I desire the worlds end. I hate the human species, no compassion; I have no sympathy for them at all. They have overstayed their welcome. They are corrupted with greed like lust and gluttony. The mentality of Hitler, the self-discipline of Roscoe Arbuckle, and about as useful to the world as Graham Norton, This is not madness, this is simply observation.

An epiphany has dawned, forgive my previous haste towards the aforementioned sin, I am no sinner, how can I be? It’s fictional like evil be just opinion. I feel a self disrepute, but how can I be shameful of particular reminiscences when only I have knowledge of them. Who is judging me?
However, innate personality also nonexistent therefore said memories is me, I am the product of my upbringing. One should then embrace these sin labelled memories as token. Life is no test!
As contradictory as the following statement may sound I insure you it is not. You must realize that there is no rabbit hole. The meaning of life is the desire of life. Emotional obstructionism is the human sphere, a nucleus manipulating the pulses of the self renders our one desire into a multifaceted intricate imagination of aspiration however utterly insignificant, and all the splendour is this bio-contraption simply desires life, nothing more. I am no sinner.