The Ubiquity of Self

Alright, rant time. So, people around the world speak in various languages, but what language does everyone think in? That is the key to stellar knowledge and knowing, because if you can crack the ultimate code on the inner language, you can discern things before they happen, in theory. Now, my theory is that our thoughts transfer in synapses and trades of images which pass at relative light speed or faster. This too must also be taken in consideration that understanding is a transference of material all by itself which is ultimately separate of these synapses. In honesty, I believe all humanity thinks in a hivemind, transferring ideas in a giant peer-to-peer thought tank, capable of housing everything, but also separating everyone's individuality with barriers of the mind.

It is my hope that we can puncture this hivemind with a device such that we do not empty the flood gates of our thoughts or shatter the brittle reality of the lesser thinker. I propose something of a vessel which we can build upon the earth, something that can tap into the multitude of sparkling lights known to us as the human ingenuity of the idle mind. It will be in this fantastic world of mode and function that thought can be virtually explored like a current day person on the internet.

"All this worldly wisdom was once the unamiable heresy of some wise man."
-Henry David Thoreau

I suppose even you as a reader are brimming with thoughts capable of shattering walls and destroying nations, but you keep them to yourself until they are so idle and solitary that they become forgotten! Ideas as profound and untainted should not be so hidden, they should be spoken in true light.


Our society puts so little focus on the individual (so it is in America), taking into light the whole of a denomination. And it's a right shame that people think this way. Individualism is the key to a growing mind and a growing populace. The stark laziness of our over 300,000,000 residents in America comes from the obvious idea that many need not work! Why? Because the government is supposed to provide everything. No! This is wrong, we must forge our way forward, but in America this is nigh impossible for the stark and stagnant rulers have grown to powerful.


We are no longer ruled by our minds or our wills, but by our media and by our wishes. Our lives reflect what we are presented before us, and many/most prefer the simpler side of things, to sit aside and watch without having to become involved. This is itself a fallacy. Observation is the worst form of behavior as you do nothing and have no part quintessential events. Life is best lived on the fringe of raving madness and abrupt calm. If we as a human conglomerate is insufficient in supporting our own weight, how can we even hope to indulge in the thoughts of the greater humanities ubiquitous knowledge?

On a different, less profound note, my comment system is wrecked, I'll figure the error out somehow, till then, please feel free to email me: matt_tricks@rocketmail.com

Always, Matthias.

lonely god.

I became one of them. I just wanted to fit in. I became one of the beasts slithering and swirling, twirling around the abyss. The abyss was full of them and yet, they still clambered to the top, always to the top, standing on one another and falling back down, time and time again. Did they not realize how much it would hurt to escape?

On the outside, I had been, looking in, but never being within. A lonely man with a brooding past, how much had I to offer at last? Was it my fault that I couldn’t speak the same, or laugh, or play or obey the same? Is it my fault that my voice was stronger than the others, that my mind was firmer than those around me? Did it hurt you to know that I could achieve? I just wanted to fit in, once more.

But like a god, I slew you with my words, my booming voice. I did not plan to this, nor did I ever have want of such a thing, but why did you still reject me? You all ran away from me, or you shunned me in my actions. I only ever walked toward; I only ever tried to embrace. Yet, with hammer and fist had I been met, time and time again. Threatened me away, showed me out and out I went, away in company. A star brighter than those around it is easier to alienate.

So, I became a god and a god I did walk, until I was toppled. Upon my knees, which bled, I watched and then crawled and then I was slain.

The lonely god.

Among the scurf of realization, lay me among the low green seas. Relapse and continue, thought process brimming with the flow of decades. Knowledge belittled to just a small wonder as emotion heightens and explodes within me. The perception of perception is the aimless unknowing. What we deny as real can become real and objects are only thought driven. The image of an image is a fallacy and the justified is never rectified.

the waking

The world is quiet, it has always been quiet. Since the end of the beginning, there was only noise; Terrible, terrible noise, ringing in my ear. It never stops, never stopped. Did it just stop? No, it never stops. The colors flash so quickly, creating thousands of new spectrums, burning themselves into my non-existent corneas. Feelings and emotions blow through my mind, like a tidal wave. I’ve experienced more joy, grief, happiness in this moment than could ever be possible. A poetic death is useless when the world has ended within and without.

It happened in a flash, or was it the longest second in history? It was an eternity of bloodshed, contained within the single, decisive event. It was a decade of tears and sobbing fear, compacted within a strand of hair. It was the crunching bones and wounding blows of a million wars in the press of a button. It was the world and it ended. It never happened, not until it did.

Tomorrow I will wake up and I’ll get dressed, go to the store and find that I’ll have wasted myself upon the minutes of passerby’s. I will think on petty things like the weather or how I’ll make it to a job I hate or how I’ll have my bland pseudo-European style lunch served, with or without the basil. Thoughts of what I’ll wear when I get out of my dead end job and go to a dead end ritual of self-loathing and peeking observance of other’s happy lives. I’ll drown myself in the pith of my yearning persona, which strangely tastes like cheap lager.

I’ll sling myself home, swaggering down the street to my dead end neighborhood, to my dead end apartment, which is just filled with nihilist possession, meaning nothing at all. A four room, high end living space which anyone would love to have at the price I rent, but there’s nothing. These walls do not define me, for these walls are bare. They may not define me, but I do feel so bare. I’ll spend time leafing through a catalogue of fine living, making me wonder what color drapes define me as an individual, or what sort of coffee table makes me look like a minimalist, but also a confident. For a time, I’ll do this and then walk away; as if the time spent committing to the want of purchase only behooved I cease my temperament.

I’ll crawl into my king size bed, staring at the empty ceiling, fantasizing about the wondrous dreams and possibilities that I could have in this magical world of fluid creation and destruction. A world in which I could be anything I wanted and everything I ever could have hoped to be. I hope for a horizon and a crested being standing at the edge, resplendent in the light backlighting him or her, a figure of a savior, an amazing being who descends in rays of holy precipice and divine power; Someone to cling to, hold to, never leave.

It is then I realize my alarm is ringing, a buzzing noise, destroying my concentration and obliterating my hopeful dream, my reach for a pleasant life. It is then I realize it is half past four in the morning, so I resume my day, as if it never had ended, nor ever begun. In fact, it never did, I had no closure to my morning within and without. Desperation has parched my tongue and I feel dry and cracked, like man mummified before his due period. Out of bed would I crawl and don my working armor, but not today. Today the world ends, with fire and brimstone. The haunting voice of a wailing banshee does not account for the destruction before me. Today I close my eyes. And the universe explodes.

Good death, there’s morning all around.

Relationship and youth

"Love is the state in which man sees things; most widely different from what they are." -Frederich Nietzsche

Maybe you wonder why I'm linking both relationship and youth together, maybe you're just looking for a quick read, but still, I'd hope this retains some pertinence within your thoughts. First love, as to be acquitted with young love, is the bane of our youth, in all countries. Our schools and our halls are filled with the traces and the affection shown by what is popularly known as the tender trap, or simply, love at first sight. One of the most powerful emotions a human mind has to offer, Love is a great collection of every whisper, every though, we ever wanted, crystallized into human contact and emotion. Love is a four letter word describing strong affection. What meaning may make, we all know love as it is, but the love of a youthful soul does naught to find words.

Struggle as one may, it's very hard to describe the first time you actually fell in love, or thought you did. It could have been somewhere you never would have expected, like at a gallery for bad fractal art, or an exhibition for toaster strudels. I think people find they forget where they meet the first one, but they remember where they were when they leave the first one. Nowhere near where they started. My extended leave from our societal indoctrination destination, dubbed school, has been enlightening, to the very epitome of the word. The youth thrive on three things: Food for the body, food for the eyes and food for the heart. Food for the body, as to say regular consuming of nutrient and cooked morsels. Food for the eyes to mean things seen, which confirm ideas or enlighten dark ones. Food for the heart to mean a type of sustenance that only intimacy or relationship can bring. Or so they believe.


Today's modern youth like to think of love as something that is always sought for. the most important thing in the world. In fact, their world revolves around the estranged idea that all you need is love. No, love cannot provide everything you need. It cannot give you what you want out of life. It can't even get you three square meals a day (unless you forcibly "love" someone). Our youth idolizes love, fueled by an even more supporting media. Buy this and she'll love you, instantly rectifying you of the money you wasted on something so material, so false. Love today is an object, gift wrapped, shoe-shined, spruce pined, dusted and then shipped all over the world. The thought of love remains free, but the action, the very execution of love costs! If not money, then mind, if not mind then body, if not body then soul! Love stopped being what it was and should have been a very long time ago. Around the time people started making money and exploiting other people.

Why can't every thing stop being complicated?



Call me a cynic, but I'm an escapist.

- Matthias; no heart for you

The Happiness Thermostat

In all life and all situations, it has been said there is a set level of happiness, what Dr. Csikszentmihalyi called a “set thermostat.” A set level of happiness is false, I think, for it affords a view that we can never be any happier despite what may happen to us. Considerable, yes, there is a mellow mean to which we can average our days’ stress, but joy can be boosted, can be increased. To continue the original topic, I believe my core happiness “temperature,” if you will, lies within a malleable range, capable of being changed and set. I can become irritable or joyous by the simple flick of a switch, the press of a button and the decompression of a valve. What I would call happy, others may very well call melancholy, but I like to think on it in a different light.



If I could literally set my mood instantly, it could offer enjoyable opportunities. Maybe I needn’t worry about so many things if I could immediately find everything around me appropriate. Maybe, in a grander scheme and an even grander scope, I could teach others to do this. we could all live in even harmony, manipulating only our own emotions, like drugs, but without the side effects and without the addiction or cost. It would simply be our bodies and our minds.


We would not hate, we would not loathe, we would find adequacy and tranquility. Material things would seem pointless, unneeded. At least wars would not be about money, or "need." They would be about true conflict, a real difference and a real hate, which is from within us all. Maybe there wouldn't be wars because we'd realize its' folly.


These wars, these past mistakes, they are becoming our bane. The bane of humanity and its' own self preservation. Tossing bombs and nukes at each other like a child would throw a ball. If they only had a child's volition and thought. A child does not want to destroy, or at least it does not destroy willingly. A child creates and as it was created. It is only as we grow out of childhood that we find the want to destroy something beautiful, to destroy what was and has been built. A child is its' mood. What it is, is what its' mood reflects. If a child is sad, it acts in manners of being sad. If a child is happy, it acts in a fashion that is happy. Growing older, rarely anyone does that. Only a child feels safe enough to do so, but an adult, will hide it, will mask it, destroying the point, the reason behind it. Why? It is of no knowledge, but if you find out, come tell me.


God knows your lonely souls,
Matthias

Birthdays and Due dates

Well! Well, well, well! I survived another year in my life, as me! It's sort of strange, actually, thinki8ng all the way back, even to the beginning of this blog in January. Maybe I sound all conceited and such, but I feel rather accomplished. So much in this whole year has happened and it;s shaped my life for the next year to come, you know, brothers and sisters?

I'm a whole new person, but the exact same person, at the same time. It just happens to be the same body, but a new spirit? Yea, that's it. Well, happy birthday to me, I s'pose.

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