swaetshrit asked: good blog title!
aaa thank you!!! it’s a line from teardrop by massive attack UoU
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A debt is a price that goes beyond it’s contractual obligation. A debt is a damnation of the spirit as a whole, a curse and an instant, impenetrable blockade to any steps forward. A debt is unpaid when it is paid. How can one sit back with a feeling of all consuming success, knowing you were the bitch of another? Is a debt administered by a slave driver or yourself?
The question that plagues the one with the conscience is if he owes his parents for keeping him alive and healthy. The question that drives him to nearly vomit is if he owes his friends for giving him his sense of belonging. The question that will have him slamming, screaming, and crying as if re-experiencing his own birth is if he owes the donor when he begged.
The answer is no.
A slave driver with expectations is a leech. He will suck you dry of your resources, he will destroy your will and he will say it was owed to him. Nothing is owed or expected. Your life and your resources are yours to create. Those who look at you and say, “What have you given me?” are beggars, clear as day. They hide it in clothes worth 3 times more than them. An expensive suit cannot compliment a figure worth hiding.
A debt owed to yourself does not exist, but feels realer than a punch to the ribcage. Why is that? Why must the decent and the hard working suffer the torture of the guilty, the sinful, and the dishonest?
Simple. A mind trained to take up the punishment of the damned, trained by the damned themselves. Those who cheat others out of their finance, their livelihood, realize how obvious it is they may have something to compensate when they drive in cars that look to be from the future, live in mansions that just barely contain their swollen egos, and abandon anyone who ever gave them any aid at the hint their usefulness may have run dry.
While Jesus may have died for our sins, the honest and pure-hearted must suffer for a new generation of sins; those who simply do bad because the opportunity was given to them.
A debt is a useless, imaginary concept invented by ungrateful leeches. You owe nothing to anybody. Nobody owes anything to you. We are free, given life because we were the fastest sperm, not because of a divine intervention. We were and continue to be victorious, and to celebrate whenever the mood strikes is one of our finest rights that we have so thoroughly earned.
Alright. I suppose this marks a new chapter in this page. I’m reviving it and will try to write when I can. Hopefully improvement will be visible over time.
All the best,
Jay
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Why would you ever settle for less? Why would you ever go with what’s the easiest option? Do you have any sort of shame? How could you go on knowing that the best you can do is the minimum? Why would you blame others for your own mistakes? Is it that hard to admit your failures? Is it that hard to look in the face of adversity and not break down? Do you think anything in this world, including your own life, is owed to you? Would you run when the going got tough? Or would you run straight at it? Whether it meant life or death, if you believed in something, would you fight for it? Would you watch a bleak cloud cover all that shined like gold, or would you intervene?
Are you a name on a list or a king among the damned? Do you deserve the air you breathe?
Are you worth anything at all?
Look at me and give me a straight answer. Say it with confidence, stand up straight, say it loud, look me straight in the eye, and give me your answer.
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I hopped on the back seat of the bicycle with him, and put my arms around his waist.
“Where are we going?”
“We can ride we don’t have to stop we can keep going.”
He spoke like he was nervous, but his tone was calm and his heartbeat was consistent and felt like it flowed. He put me at peace.
He started riding, past all of the houses we knew: our neighbors who always had cookouts, who played football on the front lawn, who shoveled the snow in the Winter, who checked their mail and sat on their lawn mowers and drove from one end of their lawn and back, like therapy, productive therapy. All memories of a time and place now gone like a demolished building. What does its history matter? Its legacy ended in rubble.
We rode through backyards, through patios, past in-ground pools, past old dusty sheds, under multicoloured lights for a Luau party never given the chance to be taken down. It was like a dream but it was a waking dream. Where it all felt like a bad play on a grand stage. It was all too theatrical.
I wanted so much to fly away. I was hugging the boy I loved, and I wanted him to fly away with me too but he’d be too stubborn for it. He made me so happy but I knew he’d never believe it. It started to rain, and the lights began to shake with every smack of the running water running down, coming from an endless tap. I lost my virginity with him, and he never bragged. Sex didn’t mean that much to him but he seemed more confident after that. I was so happy….
And now, we were riding, riding to take a break, riding to do what we needed to do. We needed to relax. We couldn’t sleep well and we didn’t eat much and he couldn’t keep it up but it was alright. He was always pleasant to look at. He could put me in a different place, a nice place, maybe not a happy place but the sadness at least felt soothing. Like running water. Where I didn’t age and I could feel pretty and I could eat something nice and be able to stop, to stop and sigh and get that warm, deep feeling inside.
But it’s still just a fantasy. Hahahaha.
Our intention was to get to the airport, but even when it happens would anything be functional? If it was would we be able to use it? Could we learn?
I remembered my sister telling me about everything she was going to do when she turned 18. Not want to do, going to do. None of it happened. It never got the chance to happen.
The gust got colder and the rain seemed to pierce my skin through my wool jacket, reminding me just how worn it was. The .22 in my pants pocket felt colder. It all got a little darker and a little denser.
one choice no regrets. not your fault take it up with the higher ups. saw it here heard it there must be true. “don’t know what to tell you.” yes you do you can tell me im a god damned fool you just don’t want to go home wondering if you said the wrong pizza and wings for dinner! patriots vs. giants! friends! chips! snacks! super bowl sunday morning wake up church so a devil isn’t put aside for you. work get paper someone told you means something spend it spend it spend it on mine no mine not his nor hers mine fuck wife make kids make kids do same thing. pepsi means a lot to you.
I’m a saint by day and sinner by night. Don’t tattle.
we went fishing and let all the fish go. a pretty drone continued and no one wanted to talk they wanted to hear it. it never changed tone or anything it sustained and went away when it wanted to it went away but I wanted it…. but it didn’t want it so who was wrong?….?
my stomach is screaming it wants out. it’s In my throat
body’s a bad mess it falls apart when one thread is pulled out. no drive gives up. life is scary when impulse is your drive you dont think you act you act you regret………
am I abstinent or deprived? I’ll let you gUess
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And I questioned him. I questioned him but not in any traditional sense, no - I left impulse in my back pocket.
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[SESSION #000000000864301178 BEGIN]
A: How are you feeling?
B: (silence)
A: Come on, you know how you’re feeling, so just say it.
B: I don’t - (sigh) - I don’t… really feel completely comfortable with that?
A: Well, I know that, but you need to tell me anyway.
B: Just a bit… detached, I guess? Just like, I can’t tell the difference between things?
A: So, you’re mentally ill?
B: Well, if you want to put such a soulless label, then I guess you have every right, but -
A: Trust me, you don’t have to remind me of my rights.
B: …but I consider it just being me. I’m just a bit detached, and I’m working on it.
A: Well, it’s all very nice to try to make yourself feel better, but I’m afraid you’ve got your sense of self-respect mixed up with the facts. Let me go from the top - uh… you’ve got about 400 plus pages of writing scattered around your apartment, with the majority of them rooted in the topic of governmental and societal corruption. You cite many sources, many of which do not exist -
B: They’re unpublished research from -
A: Yeah, unpublished, ok - many of which do not exist, as well as detailed plans to kill several of the current presidental canidates, I mean -
B: And as I’ve -
A: Shut up. I mean, is there something wrong with you?
B: As I’ve said multiple times before, I’ve never written any sort of plan to kill anybody. I just write to get things out floating around in my head.
A: The quicker you give this bit up, the easier it’ll be to get you situated and we can move on.
B: Situated? What the fuck do you mean “situated?”
A: (quickly speaking) What do you mean “what do you mean ‘situated?’” You’re not going home, you realize that.
B: What do you mean “I’m not going home?” How long does this take?
A: No, I mean you’re not going home ever again.
B: What?
A: You’ve commited treasoneous acts, Mr. [NAME REMOVED]. As I’m sure you’ve heard, we have a zero tolerance policy for those wishing to terrorize innocent citizens, now -
B: What the fuck are you going on about? I haven’t commited a single fucking crime! I wrote things down on a piece of fucking paper, and I’m having a real hard time believing there’s anything wrong with that.
A: Mr. [NAME REMOVED], if you don’t calm down and sit down, you will be forced to do so.
This is your only warning.
B: How about you sit down and kiss my ass, you sleeping -
(B 172, A 006)
A: Ah… that wasn’t a very smart idea, in retrospect?
B: (screaming, clutching chest)
A: I’m not going to call an ambulance, if that’s any question. Unfortunately, our chat is going to continue with you in this condition. Now, uh (looking over paperwork), I understand you’ve been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and General Anxiety Disorder since you were fourteen. In your own words -
B: (screaming)
A: In your own words, how has this affected your daily life?
B: (mumbling)
A: What?
B: (mumbling)
A: I can’t understand you, you’ve got to speak up.
B: (quietly) You’re still…
A: First he’s screaming, now I can’t hear what he’s going on about - You need to speak up.
B: You’re still my baby girl…just hang in there…
A: What?
B: You’re still my baby girl…just hang in there…
(silence)
A: Ah, shit, I think he’s dead.
(silence)
A: Ah, I really gotta practice firing at that sweet spot next time. (looks to camera)
A: But, heh, we all make mistakes, don’t we?
[SESSION #000000000864301178 END]
hello i am jay suck my fucking balls you n*rd
this is where i’ll put writing so if you like to read (LOL GEEK) i guess come here?? a lot of it is existential, philosophical, psychedelic, nonsensical, linear, nonlinear, possibly cool(?), and also possibly might inspire you??? that might be one of my intentions with stuff iunno, it’s like it’s for YOU to decide….
so yeah why aren’t you sucking my fucking balls yet SHEESH….
