i’ve fully embrace the night as my partner in crime. it is during this time, when i am alone and in the darkest hour that i find reason to wake up in the morning. the normal waking hour becomes nothing more than systems of patterns that i am obligated to play out. be this, be here, explain this, pretend you care. it’s only during moments of solutidue that a free form of will takes shape and i began to understand the nature of my patterns. the dreams are defered for an expulsion of self medicating action. most of the time, there isn’t any sense of struture nor accomplishment. only the knowledge that the ego was fully served to whatever and however. it wanders in dark places but returns with a sense of urgency that i am wasting my time. the more wasteful the moments, the more painful the sleep becomes. a sense of frustration prevades sleep and it’s never a restful sleep. only a lingering dispise of the grand illusions that continue to to dig deeper in the waking life. it’s not a good feeling but knowing that it’s so transient, i am not hurt in it’s web. emptiness on deconstruction. what a tricky game i play.
i had a mini relevation in the past couple of days. it’s quite silly actually but for some reason the actual realization of the concept was signifiant in understanding how the ego works. apparently, there are numerous qaulities in most of my male friends that i really identity with. i have plenty of female friends but none of them are really in the top 5 of people that know me the most. actually, the realization really came into full crystalization last night when i was talking with my creative collaborator in the business. it’s pretty apparent that we share a really deep pespective that manifests very differently because of the life choices we made. he of the husband and father role and my life as a free willing bastard. i mean i am even free from the constraints of normal family ties. i can disappear tomorrow and not feel any guilt about not taking care of my parents in their old age. i say that now but it’s probably not true. still, we expression the cherishment of our collabration but lament on the exhaustation of the experience. the inherent tensions in the roles we play out for others. and so, i realized how much we are alike and how all of my other friends remain me of myself. the good and the bad. one thing that was really clear was the parallells in our definitions of standards. in each one there was some form of higher standard that was a major force in the path of our life. that we weren’t anywhere near the transfatty portion of the bell curve of normacly. and so, i said, who am i to make a summation of my personality in such a narrow focus. i laugh at my ignorance and small thinking. the punch line was a barometer on my level of maturation. wickedly acidic texture with a bit of fruity finish. obviously, grown on vines of cursed soil. makes excellent compost for future batches of world reown smoothness. but on this night, the bitterness of the experience digs deeper in the soul. there is so much work to be done. at what point does shit become fertilizer? does shitter shit make better fertlizier? what is the nature of shit that makes it good fertiziler. how we cultivate that kind of shit if we know that it can be good shit? these are the questions that drive the waking life. how shitty can we make it so that even non smelling shit is like a rainbow body. it’s the sort of double negative thinking that will destory me spiritually. for the flicker of light that seems so bright in the darkest moment is still only a fleeting fragile flicker . still, there must be some truth in the blossom of the lotus flower. apprently, it is’t so easy to derail the path of induglence destruction.