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This poem begins in this corner,
where barely awake and naked
I stand at the top of the stairs,
a bas-relief against a book-encased wall,
and watch you leave for the day.
You may ask: how does the nude
fit into the contemporary setting?
And Cezanne thought apples
were the most difficult fruit.
Remember the year I stopped eating apples?
remember the summer I kept bringing home
abandoned chairs? A lucid Vincent wrote
to his brother: I have tried to express the terrible passions
of humanity by means of red an green.
His self-portrait now hangs in the Fogg.
Remember the summer I had to walk
to the Lake just to feel anything at all?
When I descend late in the afternoon
there's a blue plate of heart-
shaped cookies, there's an orange
on the kitchen counter. I notice a crack
in the seam of the ceiling, a spider
vein on the inside of my knee.
What a still still life!
The rest of the day is a slanted floorboard.
The rest of the day is the color of absinthe.
Note the personal and detached attitude.
Note the application of arbitrary color.
The tilted perspective.
This poem is all surface.
You may stand where you choose.
This poem has no vanishing point.
It's a miserable planet you've landed on, sickness. But it's mine and I don't want company.
You don't tell me what I do with my work. You have to be as much a slave to it as I am.
That's how it works here. That's all I've ever known. And nothing changes that.
Even if I wanted it.
So, now, you see what I tell you to see, whether you want to or not. Because you're mine now.
you fuckin' idiot. You made yourself a part of me and my shitty, compulsive life.
You're my sad, tortured little audience.
Now...
Doesn't that sound nice."
Devi - from I feel Sick #2
how do you start to undo a knot?
but its not a knot of rope, its more like a rope of sugar threads...
delicate
in need of careful
surgery.
Dont you wish love was as easy as a techno song?
throbbing and hard and momentus and perfect?
I cant seem to get myself into the groove - cant make it go where I want it to go.
But then, therein lies yet another problem; where do I want it to go?
how can I start going if I dont know where I'm going?
so, I come home and my house is falling down around me
and i'm sitting in a chair numbing myself into complete oblivion.
Can I have a priest?
my hands are older looking today - i feel like i'm getting older. I read a photo essay of people
before death... most of these people had such sad tails, and even sadder endings. they were all in their
50's and 40';s and 60's - is this the average life span now???
if so, why am I saving my money for retirement? why an i living so unhappily?
is it me? is hit him? is it both?
where do I start?
oh gods, please.
with a mixture of disgust comfort fear mutiny wonderlust pain pleasure confusion and lapses of conscience i write this blog
so forgive me if its a tad disjointed.
i feel so lost and stuck because i dont know where to fucking go!
I keep looking at myself in the mirror at 27 thinking if 30 is the new twenty can I have a do over?
time out
I have 3 years
to make a decision
if not before
love aint what it's cracked up to be.
I was listening to the girl at the restaurant tonight talk to her friend, her friend asked how married life was, she sighed - slumped and and said - its.. ok - and i thought to myself, well hell, i'm not the only one.
When you have a relationship with someone that is passionate, you often hate that person just as deeply as you love them. In recent times our roles have reversed and finally my better half understands, thru experience, some of the things I used to get so worked up over. And I see things better from his view. I'm not sure I would want to date a woman who is highly creative but also sick more often than she is healthy, who is too sensitive over her own appearance, and who has an elephant like memory that holds all things in for landmind use later on. I think when you can see yourself for the rotten bitch you can be, you better love the person who still loves and desires such a rotten bitch, whether they be crazy or sincere. Having that person hold you in an ER, rubbing your back while you cry and blubber about being sorry for always being ill, there is no value for that, it exceeds value. Doesn't mean I don't still bitch at him for not helping around the house more, or lamenting over his computer time. I'm only human... and packing estrogen.
it's funny how you can think about sooo many damn things during the day but when you really try to sort them all out they flutter away like little butterflies trying to avoid being caught. i fucking hate it.
so, i think my ex's girlfriend died last month - or ex girlfriend, i don't really know. i keep thinking one of these days i'll write him a letter - explain things. then i start thinking about how unfair that would be to him, to dredge up a past he's probably already forgotten. like the damn coldplay song i'm listening to - no, i never meant to do you harm.
so, i've made some life choices lately that i never expected to make - i'm not so sure i appreciate this grown up crap. life just keeps getting more complicated every damn fucking day. i'm sick of it. but, there i go bitching again... i gotta stop that shit.
and i'm cussing - like seriously cussing a lot. but not normal cussing, nooooo, i gotta be the weird one cussing under her breath like some kind of deranged homeless guy. all i'm missing is the stench and the beard.
i'm getting damn crumbs in my keyboard, but i don't want to leave this coffee shop because its cold as an ex wife out there in the world tonight. jesus christ - what sucks is i cant smoke my pot in here. fuck drugs being illegal - but, you know, it's all well and good if its in pill form and the dr. gives it to you. hell, i can get fucking hydrocodone any time but hell if i could ever get opium. FUCK THAT SHIT
i hate it when people i don't know mandate what i can and can not do with my own body and my own brain and my own fucking life.
speaking of mandates - i feel crazy sometimes. i don't like rules accept to break them, and lately i've felt the need for punishment. i mean, what the fuck is up with that? i would love nothing more then a serious punishment spanking right now. who in the hell wired my brain?
and while we're on brain wiring - i feel like my sex is broken. for the life of me i can not bring myself into the sex i'm having - i'm just not there. it's hell trying to cum and my triggers keep changing - i feel all over the place. i feel damn broken.
my body is broken lately. if i have one more fucking dr. test i will go mental, i swear to fucking god.
cat scans suck, cat scans where you have to drink contrast are even worse. i'm just damn thankful i got to drink the shit instead of getting it enema style - now, that would suck.
yeah, anyway - need some arsenic
and some old lace
HA HA HA
Becoming a Freethinker and a Scientist
By Albert Einstein
Taken from:
Albert Einstein's Autobiographical Notes
Open Court Publishing Company,LaSalle and Chicago, Illinois, 1979. pp 3-5.
When I was a fairly precocious young man I became thoroughly impressed with the futility of the hopes and strivings that chase most men restlessly through life. Moreover, I soon discovered the cruelty of that chase, which in those years was much more carefully covered up by hypocrisy and glittering words than is the case today. By the mere existence of his stomach everyone was condemned to participate in that chase. The stomach might well be satisfied by such participation, but not man insofar as he is a thinking and feeling being.
As the first way out there was religion, which is implanted into every child by way of the traditional education-machine. Thus I came - though the child of entirely irreligious (Jewish) parents - to a deep religiousness, which, however, reached an abrupt end at the age of twelve. Through the reading of popular scientific books I soon reached the conviction that much in the stories of the Bible could not be true. The consequence was a positively fanatic orgy of freethinking coupled with the impression that youth is intentionally being deceived by the state through lies; it was a crushing impression. Mistrust of every kind of authority grew out of this experience, a skeptical attitude toward the convictions that were alive in any specific social environment-an attitude that has never again left me, even though, later on, it has been tempered by a better insight into the causal connections.
It is quite clear to me that the religious paradise of youth, which was thus lost, was a first attempt to free myself from the chains of the "merely personal," from an existence dominated by wishes, hopes, and primitive feelings. Out yonder there was this huge world, which exists independently of us human beings and which stands before us like a great, eternal riddle, at least partially accessible to our inspection and thinking. The contemplation of this world beckoned as a liberation, and I soon noticed that many a man whom I had learned to esteem and to admire had found inner freedom and security in its pursuit. The mental grasp of this extra-personal world within the frame of our capabilities presented itself to my mind, half consciously, half unconsciously, as a supreme goal. Similarly motivated men of the present and of the past, as well as the insights they had achieved, were the friends who could not be lost. The road to this paradise was not as comfortable and alluring as the road to the religious paradise; but it has shown itself reliable, and I have never regretted having chosen it.
Every time you wish the sky was something happening to your heart, you lose twice
I slept the afternoon, but you know what Breton says: I was not in the mood for visitors. Picture yourself inside that word. And yes, my house is a word, but my words, aren’t the words also? Today, the sky just wouldn’t happen. Today, I was blind sided. Neither pain, nor its powdered absence. Like most days, I became the kitchen sill. I’m simply saying what I always say: what is lace-winged cannot be strong.
My wedding dress hangs at the end of things. It’s the kind of thing you think while sitting on someone else’s couch: There is something elegant implied by length. Or: So this is a living room, what was I thinking. Grass stains where the peach-colored silk drank in the ground. But when I get home the urge to clean immediately leaves me. Alone, I can only think of visiting those plain and exotic places. Oh, my cloud covered heart.
She was a branch covered in hoarfrost. I must forgive myself. Something clings to the whore’s hem. Dear visitor: you divide your age in two then square it by a dying mother. I am always gathering her up in my arms. Believe me, you never forget someone that thin. You start remembering the way that summer lay differently on top of that year. The hood burns you. I tried driving as gently as I could, but you know, the road had last winter inside it, the winter before. That drive was painful, just look at her face. You remember because someone starts talking about time. Someone says time, time is like water. Someone says: There was once a living room made entirely of death.
Today, the sky was white. And the ground was white, too. Yet, I could tell them apart. They were that easy to distinguish.
Olena Kalytiak Davis - And her soul out of nothing
with the world that I once cherished
did it bring me to this darkened place
to contemplate my perfect future?
I will not stand nor utter words against this tide of hate
losing sight of what and who I was again
I can't say that you're losing me
I always tried to keep myself tied to this world
I suppose things like that shouldn't affect me but it does. Since I was a small child I thought my life was going to have a great purpose, a great meaning - something to be proud of, yet here I am still sitting on the floor nursing wounds - screaming to the tune of the background noise.
When enough become enough?
Valerie. do something right for once.
you are such a fuck up
no forgiveness for my sins
What were you about to sayy?
sorry
fuct again
bye
can you get an amen?
the answer is no
but oh - a bottle of pills
for twenty five bucks a week
and everything that you seek
and everything that is hunting you down
recedes to the sound of a dull roar
but you're up off the floor
and not so unsteady
ready? swallow the first one...
maybe we're only as sick as our secrets
and maybe our secrets are all that we own
maybe you pump air into the belljar and maybe you're under the belljar alone
maybe salvation falls from on high
maybe there's no salvation up there
maybe there's a secret
maybe we share
I got a secret I should tell
I'm going up to Heaven on a split pea shell."
- Peter Mulvey
You said -
All you said -
You lied
It's cold
I'm just about to cry
I've just realized that I am turning into my father.
I see his sunken-in eyes
and crooked-sad smile
Every time I look in the mirror.
I oft' find myself in his shoes
Living in his dreamworld
Smoking his cigarettes
Writing his worn poems.
I am becoming my father.
Heaven help those who love me.
I talked to god today
I was put on hold
All The Words
All the words I wish your fingers could feel,
all the times I've wished you could know
the silent sorrow
lying stiff in my throat
like cold and broken teeth.
I wish you could hear
the child that cries in my flesh
and makes my bones ache.
I wish you could speak to my fears.
I wish you could hold me in your arms
like oceans and smooth what my muscles remember
all the bruises, all the sour hope
all the screams and scraped knees
the cloudy days so dark
I wondered if my eyes were even open.
The days that I felt like August,
and that I, too
would soon tun
to fall.
you can hear the paper burning.
The moon is the only light,
in the silence you can hear it turning."
In Tukwila Washington, a little south of the city, in the industrial areas and nestled down near an interstate overpass there used to be a little white house. On one side of this house was the police department gun range and on the other side was a Russian mob chop shop and in this little house I used to live. I lived with the K. family - a nice enough newly married couple that fought a lot and fucked a lot.
I lived in the basement of this little house - I had concrete floors and moldy walls and the staircase down would kill you if you weren't careful.
My mattress and box springs were on the floor next to the old defunct 1930's boiler and once in a while one of the rats that lived in the attic would fall down through the pipe and scratch on the inside of the boiler until it found its way out - sometimes in the night I would wake up to a rat in my bed. But nevertheless it was my home for a while.
See, Joe and Alecia K. took me in when I had a bad living situation and no where to really go. I had no job, no money and a broken down 83' BMW with a leakage problem - but at least I wasn't in Colorado so I'd be damned if I was going to complain - much.
Sometimes in the twilight hours I would sit on the front porch listening to my music and smoking cigarettes and I would watch the legion of rats that lived in our attic run across the power lines leading from the house to the holly trees that surrounded the house.
"Down over the ridge by the highway,
you'll hear the cars, they come and fade.
It's like that out here,
you can hear things for miles else, and miles away."
Back in those days I was not old enough to buy alcohol legally and even if I was I had no money to buy it so I spent a lot of time in my head and I didn't really enjoy the company of others. Joe and Alecia did their best to bring me into their world and I have to admit that those times I really felt like I had a family - they were good people.
My own family was moving on without me out in Colorado - 1,300 miles from the porch that I sat on every night and missed them.
I couldn't go back. I knew if I went back I would be dead soon after. I couldn't tell you why, it's not like I wasn't welcome or loved but that town that life, that me - I just couldn't go back there.
"Out here I make the only human lights,
I am the only human sound.
It's my privilige to lie awake at night
and think of what I have lost, and hope for what might be found."
I was different from that person, and I never wanted to go back there.
I was slowly making my life happen. Soon after moving into that little house I got a job at a music store and adopted the persona of "Bob" - even my damn name tag said Bob. I was tough and I was weird, I had piercings all over my face and I had developed a very strange sense of humor. People were nice to me but I noticed they always kept their distance. It was a time of darkness and self discovery and I wouldn't trade those days in my life for anything.
"Out here you'll find out who your friends are
when the darkness comes and kills the day.
There's an ache in every corner of the heart
for the ones who are miles away.
Out here there's always work to be done
and I do what I can.
Came down to a choice,
love or run...I ran."
That was the year I met Petey. Dear Petey, such a major player in my life - It's hard to think of him even now.
Pete worked at one of our sister music stores a few cities away and being a sister store we called each
other's store every so often to check stock. One day Pete called and I had never, in my whole life, had a conversation like that. We laughed, made jokes and then my manager walked up - shit. I spent the rest of the day thinking about that guy I had talked to, Pete.
Nice name.
Pete started calling my store more often and when he did he would always ask for me, I loved it. I would jump whenever the phone rang, Is it Pete? One day we decided that we should meet each other. I think I tried too hard to look good because my roomie asked me if I was going to go whore myself out in that outfit- ouch.
Pete and I dated for a few months and when we broke up I felt heartbreak I never had known before - He truly was my first true love.
"Winter will come and get ahold of my heart and squeeze,
and I will long for your touch.
Wonder what kind of fool am I when I leave it,
if I loved it so much.
I would call you on the phone,
and I would struggle for the words to say,
"I swear that I am working on the things
that keep me miles away."
My family means the world to me. We have been through so much life together and our bond is ever stronger for our strife. I missed my family every day I was not with them. They were my lifeline, they were my sanity, they were my insanity.
I could not have made the life I have if not for my family.
But not once did I regret being away from them.
"Out here it's not as bad as I tell it
you got your rocks, you got your rivers, got your trees.
Nothing comes easily,
but what comes has brought at last a little peace."
My roommates always thought I was a bit weird for wanting to sit outside all the time and smoke my cigarettes and listen to my music, but there was just something about those moments I could not give up. I was learning about myself, dissecting life and god and myself.
I would think of people and thoughts and ideas that I admired and I would try to figure out how to be like that . My music was my path and my destination was a perfect me, whatever that was supposed to be.
I suppose I still do that.
"Out here it's so silent
you can hear your heart talking.
One day that heart might tell you which way to go,
you might start walking.
You know that I will"
At the end of October my Sister and I will be flying down to VA to visit my brother who is stationed at Norfolk Naval Base and I am excited beyond belief - but the joy is bittersweet because at the end of the trip I will be leaving both my sister and brother there to serve their time with the Navy. I think about the times that I had to be gone from my family and grow up and though I will miss them with all my heart, I will cheer them on every damn day because this is their time to grow and figure things out. This is there time in their own "Little White House".
But that doesn't make me miss them any less for again we are separated and lonely for each other.
"Out here when you light a smoke on the porch
you can hear the paper burning.
The moon is the only light,
I hear it turning."
Song in the bold - Out Here by Peter Mulvey
Please excuse me if this blog makes no sense, it's Saturday afternoon and I'm a bit tipsy, a bit stoned and more or less in a damed mood.
I don't need anyone else sharpening their claws on my thoughts thank you very much, Owen.
See, the reason I write here is not necessarily because I want to blog, I write here because my husband is a nosy nosy man and I can not keep a diary any longer, I learned that the hard way, and my thoughts are my thoughts. I don't mind if other people read these thoughts because you can't divorce me. I think the comments are cool and I am sorry if I don't reply to them but I really prefer to stay out of all the blogging world.
The last month or so I have been battling stomach issues where I can't really eat without being in pain and so I just don't eat which has led to drastic weight loss and very bad blood sugar problems. I've been living in a world of the altered state lately - The surreal outlook of hunger. Which has, in part, led to the stress and issues of my daily life.
My husband is a good man, he is not a kind or sympathetic man, he is stubborn and condescending and confrontational. He is also immature irresponsible and passive aggressive - and completely driving me nuts. What in the fucking hell did I do getting married? Fuck! I should have thought, I should have waited. Now I feel stuck and miserable. I wonder if this is really going to be the rest of my life, trapped in a marriage I promised to be in and don't really want to be in right now.
Last Friday I got to work and realized that everything was about to fall apart in my head. I heard the walls in my mind shuddering - the dikes holding everything in groaning under pressure and fatigue.
I did what I had to do - I left. i drove home, stumbled to the door and collapsed on the floor. Everything was sore when I surfaced from the violence in my mind - everything hurt. I struggled to move - my body playing tricks on me.
I recovered enough to wonder out side and light a cigarette, I just can't seem to quit them.
I sat staring out into nothing and I felt so lost, so scared. I felt broken and abused, like my own mind had chosen to rebel against me - my own heart wouldn't listen to reason any more. I was separate from myself I floated somewhere foggy my thoughts bombarding my already beaten soul. What am I going to do? Who am I? What am I doing here? Have I done it all wrong?
Only heaven's silence for an answer.
I think somewhere along the way things got really fucked up. I don't know where to go from here. I just don't know.
How do you console your own conscience, how do you reconcile the feelings of guilt that come from your secret joy?
I have no one to ask, no one to tell. I have just my own self to blame for all this.
1. Because I have had too much tragedy in my life to believe in a god that supposedly loves me.
2. The Bible is full of so much pain and suffering that if there really were a just and kind god that book would not be his legacy to this world.
3. Just the shear size of the universe is enough to prove that the Bible has lied about our origins.
4. Science has dis-proven many of the claims of religion and Science produces tangible evidence, blind faith does not.
5. Because if there really were a god he would not let so many terrible things happen in his name.
6. Because the gods portrayed by the religions of this world are too finite and too focused on this small blue world, just a grain of sand in the vastness of the universe, and too focused on the problems of small humans and too human themselves to be real gods.
7. It is very easy to see that god is a mere invention of primitive human brain when we were incapable of explaining this world any other way.
8. god doesn't answer prayer.
9. No matter how many times I have asked, god has never struck me down for saying he does not exist.
10. Because Religion is the greatest excuse ever come up with where bad people get to do bad things on a global scale and it's always justifiable because "GOD TOLD THEM TO"
Fuck religion Fuck god. I'm outta here
Fuck
With the lies they told to you
And the least they ever gave you
Was the most you ever knew
And I wonder where these dreams go
When the world gets in your way
What's the point in all this screaming
No one's listening anyway
Your voice is small and fading
And you hide in here unknown
And your mother loves your father
'Cause she's got nowhere to go
And she wonders where these dreams go
'Cause the world got in her way
What's the point in ever trying
Nothing's changing anyway
They press their lips against you
And you love the lies they say
And I tried so hard to reach you
But you're falling anyway
And you know I see right through you
When the world gets in your way
What's the point in all this screamin'
You're not listening anyway
After two intense failed relationships, {both which, in retrospect, were almost completely my fault but I was able to successfully manipulate things so as to make each man believe they were in the wrong} I have spent a lot of time thinking about who I am and I have isolated several personality traits that make it somewhat difficult for a normal person to have a relationship with me. I am looking for a man who is secure enough in himself to tolerate our exciting lifestyle {a background or degree in psychology is a plus.} I am determined to find a healthier way of approaching things, as I never want to ruin anyone's life ever again.
I have decided to be completely honest right off the bat, therefor eliminating the time it takes to 'get to know one another' {i.e. time it takes for you to realize I am a complete psycho- but by then you are completely helpless to resist my allure and charisma and are unable to wrench yourself from me, your beautiful demise.}
Some things you should know:
*I have a major 'Daddy' complex. My father, whom I adored as a god, left when I was young. No matter how well you treat me, you will never be as good of a man as my Daddy.
*I will never trust you. The first of two men I thought I loved and slept with cheated on me time and time again, and impregnated other women and paid for their abortions with my money. I did not find any of this out until two years into our relationship when we had a home and a life together and I was pregnant with a child of my own. These indiscretions, and my tendency to be rash and impulsive led to me having an abortion. I am prone to bouts of melancholy and self-hatred because of the guilt I still feel over this decision.
*I have no communication skills. I will never tell you what is wrong with me, nor will I share any of my secrets, fears, hopes or dreams with you. {I do have several of these- one of them is to someday not be so crazy.} You will have to pry information out of me. I feel like if I confide in you, when I ultimately drive you away- which I am bound to do- you will have these personal pieces of me and that makes me feel vulnerable and I am terrified of being vulnerable.
*I have an addictive personality. I was a crack addict when I was 15-16, and relapsed again when I was 18. I like to think I have conquered these addictions but it wouldn't surprise me if I relapsed again.
*I am a cold and unemotional bitch. This, of course, is all a facade, but you will constantly wonder if I truly care about you or not. If you do not pay me 100% of your attention, I will feel rejected and inwardly wonder why you do not love me. Then I will pretend that you are nothing more to me than a mote of dust- which of course I do not notice. If you pay me too much attention I will feel cagey and suffocated and walk out the door without telling you where I am going and may not return for several days. No matter how long we are together, you will never see me cry. I am a brick wall.
**CLARIFICATION**- About once every five months I will cry over my vacuumed fetus but when this happens I will lock myself in the smallest possible space I can find so you cannot see me. This is usually a closet or a bathroom, although I was partial to a large trunk I owned until someone confiscated it with my best interests in mind.
*Although I will always be completely faithful to you, I will have no less than five men in line who are able and willing to keep me platonic company if you ever need to leave for any reason. This is because I cannot bear to be alone, even though I pretend that that is all I want.
*I am terrified of commitment. Know that I will never marry you, or if in a moment of confusion I do agree to marry you, I will not show up on our wedding day.
*I have some sexual preferences that some people may not be able to handle. I want sex several times a day and I like to be hit, choked, and called nasty names. Please be comfortable with such abuse.
* I am incredibly indecisive. I do not know what I want to eat, wear, or do at any given time. Once we have reached a decision I will change my mind. I am also extremely scatterbrained and lose my keys, phone, wallet, etc. on a regular basis. I will expect you to be able to locate these items. I am also very impatient and want what I want when I want it, with no regards to your feelings.
*I throw punches when I feel cornered. I kickbox, so they are good punches.
Now that that is out of the way, I do have some redeeming qualities!
*I am beautiful, intelligent, educated and articulate. You can be assured that all of your family and friends will envy you for having such a wonderful girlfriend. I am definitely the girl you can bring home to mom. You and only you will know of my dichonomy and my psychotic antics when we are alone.
*I can cook a mean steak.
*When I am happy, {which is a good portion of the time} you will feel like the most amazing man alive and the center of my universe.
*I am artistically gifted.
*I have a stable and lucrative career.
*I make friends with everyone, including homeless people and vicious dogs. I take bugs out of my house and let them go.
As mentioned, I am extremely charismatic and you will be unable to resist my charms. I guarantee you will fall in madly and twistedly love with me, and although you know that I will ultimately leave you in an emotional bloody shredded heap in pursuit of my own needs, you will be unwilling and unable to exorcise me from your life, so serious replies only, please.
P.S.- Please be an animal lover. If you are not, then I am not the girl for you.
"Haven't we had enough of this cigar-smoking shit in this country? When is this shit going to go away? When are these fat, arrogant, overpaid, overfed, overpampered, overpriviledged, overindulged white collar business criminal asshole cocksuckers going to put out their cigars and move along to their next abomination? White, pussy businessmen sucking on a big, brown dick. That's all it is. That's all it ever was. A big, brown dick. Freud said sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Oh, yeah? Well sometimes it's a big, brown dick with a fat, arrogant, white collar business criminal asshole sucking on the wet end of it. But the news isn't all bad for me, you know the good part? Cancer of the mouth. Good, fuck 'em. It's an attractive disease, it goes good with a cell phone. So light up, suspender man, and suck that smoke deep down into your empty suit and blow it out your asshole, you fucking cocksucker!"
fucking cocksucker
The photo above was taken by Voyager 1 in 1990 as it sailed away from Earth, more than 4 billion miles in the distance. Having completed it primary mission, Voyager at that time was on its way out of the Solar System, on a trajectory of approximately 32 degrees above the plane of the Solar System. Ground Control issued a command for the distant space craft to turn around and, looking back, take photos of each of the planets it had visited. From Voyager's vast distance, the Earth was captured as a infinitesimal point of light (between the two white tick marks), actually smaller than a single pixel of the photo. The image was taken with a narrow angle camera lens, with the Sun quite close to the field of view. Quite by accident, the Earth was captured in one of the scattered light rays caused by taking the image at an angle so close to the Sun. Dr. Sagan was quite moved by this image of our tiny world. Here is an enlargement of the area around our Pale Blue Dot and an excerpt from the late Dr. Sagan's talk:
"We succeeded in taking that picture [from deep space], and, if you look at it, you see a dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings, thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam.
The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of the dot on scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner of the dot. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity -- in all this vastness -- there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. It is up to us. It's been said that astronomy is a humbling, and I might add, a character-building experience. To my mind, there is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."
The proper role of the government is to prevent other people from harming an individual. Government never has any right to interfere with an individual for that individual’s own good. The case for prohibiting drugs is exactly as strong and as weak as the case for prohibiting people from over eating.
We all know that over-eating causes more deaths than drugs do.”
-Milton Friedman
It's raw - and wounded soul -exposed and festering
It's cancer - you can see - and false smiles for humanity...
It's broken - like some childhood's doll - void of sense and sanity...
It's inside out - and dizziness - and bile that is hard to swallow...
It's cauldrons of fire - and ice that burns - and a feeling that God has died."
