Had this wierd dream last night.
I went into my attic and inside was the front door of my house and inside was an exact replica of my house again. So then I went to the attic of the replica, and of course there was another replica. And it went on like this for a while until there was just a big hole and a bright white light.
So if my house had my house in the attic. Then that house in the attic should have the house again in its attic. It should be a never ending cycle, yet in the dream there was an end to it.
Well, I guess dreams don't have to follow the rules of logic. But isn't this idea of recursion very difficult to grasp. Some thoughts are very natural, you say to yourself, "oh yea, that makes sense" and thats the end of it, but with stuff like this there isn't that sense of finality. You can say "oh yea, that makes sense", but if you really think about it, it doesn't make sense and you find yourself lost in an ever expanding line of thought in a futile attempt to find finality in it.
Can stories give us the finality we seek??
Ted: So Bill, whats in your attic?
Bill: If I told you, you wouldn't believe me
Ted: No go ahead, I keep dolls in my attic, how much stranger could your attic be?
Bill: OK, I have an exact replica of my entire house in my attic
Ted: What the fuck?
Bill: Yea its alot stranger than your dolls isn't it? Whats even stranger is that since my house has a replica of my house in the attic, the replica in the attic also has a replica of my house in its attic. And I assume it just keeps going.
Ted: Shit, im having trouble following you.
Bill: Yea kind of hard to follow isn't it? Well see my 'original' house, the one that we are in, has an exact replicate of my house in the attic, since it is an exact replicate it therefore must have a house in its attic. So even though the house in the attic is a house itsself it is still part of the house below it.
Ted: That doesn't make sense, how can a house be made of itsself. Where does your house really end, if in fact the house in the attic has a house in its attic and so on. I mean there must be an end right?
Bill: Nope, no end I figure, I once traveled to the 10th house or subhouse-subhouse-subhouse-subhouse-subhouse-subhouse-subhouse-subhouse-subhouse-house.
Ted: Have you ever tried going outside one of the 'sub' houses?
Bill: What a stupid question, of course its just an attic outside of any sub-house as the exact replica of the house is contained in the attic of the previous house.
Ted: Oh yea right. But then how does an entire house with an attic fit in your attic if it is the exact same size of your house? I mean, your attic would have to be as big as your house.
Bill: Yup, actually it is slightly bigger than my house so we can have room to open the door.
Ted: OK, its starting to make sense now. But I need to see the end, where does your house end?
Bill: Well I suppose it really never ends. You should theoretically be able to keep going onto new replicas of my house for an infinite amount of time.
Ted: HAHA, shit, I got you now. So if this is so then where is the space the house replicas occupy, it obviously cant be the attic because you said earlier that you attic was just slightly bigger than the size of your entire house. So its impossible to fit all those other exact replicates in there.
Bill: OH yea, I forgot to tell you that the duplicate houses dont obey the laws of nature. For example, once you enter one of the replicates you are actually not in space at all, even though you keep climbing up into each next house, you arent actually going up, you are just entering another dimension.
Ted: Oh ok, I think I understand now. So this house isn't based on our reality here and now. It occupies its own reality which is totally separate than everything we have here and now.
Bill: Riiiiight now you get it.
Ted: So what do we do now?
Bill: I dunno, but Im going to go into one of your extra-dimensional-duplicate houses and live there for a while, just to see what its like.
Ted: Ok you do that, but stay away from the 10th replication, thats where I hide my porn and hookers.
Bill: Ok, Ill go to the 7th one then. I always liked the number 7. Take care man.
Ted: Alright, later man.
I finally realized it, the true meaning of life
I have mastered the art of muffling my farts
I can now pass gas in public without fear of being noticed
I feel like being literary today. I was reading someones blog and came across
the line "freshman writing teacher". It reminded me of my freshman year where I
learned so much about writing, about people, about life.
Writing like this is strange. It has limitless possibilities. No real restrictions. A little mental playbox.
While I was taking a shit a minuite ago a lot of things I could type about came to mind and the directions I could take seemed so solid. I was in the moment, every word in my head came to me for the first time, but now I am just looking back on these words, trying to put them here the right way. Its like watching a simple movie that you have already seen. You know exactly what will happen, so what is the point of doing it again?
I don't want to use writing to just re-iterate things I've done or said, thats boring. I want each word to come out golden, a new intresting birth.
During the week I am a sailor on a sailboat going through terrible storms. The crew panics as they run across the deck to get the sails right as huge waves test human limitations. I run with the crew too, in this panic. Through the darkest nights and the greyest days, the swells get so high, spend all that time just trying to line the boat up with the next wave so it won't be obliterated by it; to get it set up for the next wave.
But now, now I am watching the sailboat from far away as it enters the calmest seas and the warmest days. I just watch it comfortably as it peacefully sails to some unknown destination.
My parents came over today, it was good to see them after so long.
Detachment is good. Watching the boat. But surprise, that boat is you. But thats ok, you don't realize it now. You just enjoy watching it sail along.
Attachment is good. Being on the boat. Controlling its destiny directly. You control the boat. But you are not the boat.
Depraved. What a strange word. Lacking. Missing something. But is there really anything to lack or anything to miss? Outside of the boat, outside of watching the boat, do these missing things lie out here? Should you grab onto these ghosts that don't exist or should you ignore them and not ignore them at the same time?
Now, I can just breathe, no more thoughts producing more thoughts. There is no boat.
Man, life is getting strange.
Things are getting hard to grasp, reality fantasy, all blended together. I cant even feel the pain of waking up at 6AM every morning anymore. Its like nothing.
I dont seem to feel the weight of my own life anymore, like an empty shell. Before I didnt feel emotions, but I still recognized that they existed somewhere. Now, I dont feel emotions and I have not the slightest clue that they exist anywhere.
Today at wal-mart I was standing in the checkout line. I started looking around, realizing that their are people around, and wondering what I did last weekend at wal-mart that allowed me to ignore this fact.
I dont have time for other people, they only complicate my life. I am a machine on this earth to overcome the challenges that come before me no matter how much pain it causes me, nothing else.
I am begining to see the pointlessness of life, just a bunch of images and experiences placed before me. Im not really sure where this happened, in the best case maybe too much beer, in the worst case maybe not.
But dont worry. I dont want anyone to worry. Because if people worry it will complicate my life, yet, I place this where others can see, why? No, im not asking you, im asking myself, but no answer emerges.
Shit, ignore my last entry, I was really drunk, now I'm a littlesobereer.
Yea, so the secret to life is totally ignoring yourself and doing other shit. When you focus on yourself like a laser it will kick your ass.
Ok, I think I figured it out. Or I want to figure it out.
My life has many layers. I can't begin to fathom them all, theres too many. But when I am in one layer I am not necessarily aware of the other layers. I suppose a better word to use is 'mode'.
The only way I can survive is by becoming whatever mode the situation puts me in. By 'the situation' I mean life.
At work -> work mode
At school -> school mode
At home -> ???
Thats why things seem so depressing now, the ???. There are no strict rules for being at home. I can be or do anything here.
Holy shit, that made me feel better. That realization. Theres not much else to say then.
Ok, I know why I drink so much now. Its so I can wake up in the morning and
feel like Uncle Scrooge did when he woke up after going through all that shit.
Yea, so all better now.
I got my little thing that pumps me up. I'll be doin stuff at work and when something gets hard I just go HAIIIIIIII!!!! in my mind like that guy on Soul Calibur 2 and I get all pumped up and get it done. And after work when im on my way to school I go 'I still need more souls!!!' it keeps me goin.
So yea good stuff, time to play video games and wash clothes.
So I was standing in line at wal-mart getting my usual groceries (beer and
food). I noticed ... ah shit.
Someone just called. There was like a 2 second pause, usually when I hear the pause I automatically hung up, but this time I waited an extra second. I heard a hello, I hung up. I think it could have been my neighbors, but im not sure. HAHA oh well, I figure that when you call someone you should have something to say besides hello when the person on the other end picks up and says hello. Logically speaking it probably was a salesperson or something, but emotionally I FEEL like it could have been someone else since the voice sounded familiar. The emotions and the mind are always fighting each other. Anyways, this kinda leads into the story I was about to recount....
So yea I was checking out at Wal-mart, got in this badass short line. A few seconds after I got in line, I realize something is wrong. The usual happy checking out process ain't happening in front of me. The cashier won't accept a coupon from a customer because the picture doesn't match the product, however, the wording does.
At first it was an emotional conflict. The lady checking out said stuff like "Ah common, your just being difficult" to the cashier. Then it went into more of a logical conflict "the wording matches the wording of the product". Eventually a CS person was called and things got settled, the cashier was 'won'.
This reminded me of my days as a cashier. It was so shitty. You always have these older women(mostly) that come in and bitch about coupons not working and stuff, or getting overcharged something like 20 cents or so. I can remember countless times where I would spend a few minuites trying to confirm that a product was 20 cents less than the register said it was. God what a pain in the ass. It just seems so petty and pointless. Why would someone care about 20 cents? Well its emotions, I figure they feel like there getting screwed. Like the big bad cashier gets off on conning them out of extremely small amounts of money. Yea, some people just feel like everyones out to get them I guess.
I dont really know where I am going with this, just a few mundane thoughts.
I want to believe that this kind of writing will somehow improve my life or something, but it probably won't. I just kinda get off on breaking things apart like that, it makes me feel kinda good, emotionally speaking of course.
Man, I havent gotten off in a few days. Things are starting to get a little
--------(please dont read below unless strong mind)---------
I've had this little fixation on death today. It all started around 11AM when I was sitting in my room. Suddenly something nailed my front door. My first reaction was that it was a rock or something and some people outside wanted to fight. I wanted to go out there and kick ass, but I kinda just zoned it out. But later on I imagined having an M16 and just taking them out. Just 'chich' 'chich' 'chich' as I squeeze the trigger back, they fall to the ground dead. I went to the door and it turns out it was just a new phone book, the deliver must have thrown it a little hard, nothing was broken tho.
After the M16 thought, I starting thinking about war, life and death. It was strange, I could imagine my self in such a hostile situation, gun pointed at me, lifes about to be taken. But I felt no emotion, I felt a strange peace. I imagined not heroes or victims, not good or bad, no emotion. Just two people pointing firing small pieces of deadly metal at each other, and total peace.
One second your standing there, thinking, focusing, the next a flash, maybe pain, a sensation that something is wrong but not quite sure what it is, everything seems so different. You realize a wetness, you realize you are dying. You can feel life drain away, the one thing you cannot control or fight, it pulls you down; nothing you think, do or feel can save you. Helpless. Then nothing.
That was my memory of almost dying by choking on a giant jawbreaker. Up until the nothing anyways. Thats the feeling I get when I think of deadly violence or see a corpse on TV, or hear about death on the news. But today I imagined it and felt peace. Im not sure if that is good or bad.
Theres a bunch of people coming over soon for a party, I need to invite people over.
Birth, Life, death. 0 1 0. You come from nothing, become something and then return to nothing again. You were dead for eons before you were born, and you will be dead for eons after this mortal state.
Do what makes you happy. Don't let anything bring you down. There is nothing you really have to do, death will come naturally, a rainstorm to wash away consciousness. This is the true meaning of life. To accept death, accept pain, accept suffering, accept happiness, accept everything.
Your mind has so many layers. Like a box that contains smaller boxes, which contain even smaller boxes. The top layer is where life really is.
Man, so i should just be waking up now, but im awake.
HAGHA. Im really drunk. Funny?
Shit, i tryed to talk to women tonuight. I enjoyed the act, but I would have enjoyed more.
A really hot girl, nice, she seemed to like things I like and I went all over her. Ruining it. She had a boyfriend too that sucked,
Another girl, not so hot, but nice mental connection.
I talked a lot it was fun. Yea, shit i did smoke weed too didnt I? I am still high right now, plus a little drunk.
I just want a partner, physically and mentally
Ah, what a refreshing weekend. Hit the beer really hard, lots of friends
around. Hot girls. Its good to do that every once in a while, its worth the
price of a hangover.
But on the other hand, theres nothing really wrong with living a life of restraint and solitude. If you look hard enough you can find happiness in anything, even nothing.
Substances that alter your state give you a quick path to this natural happiness, for a short time. Its good sometimes.
I find myself recounting these positive social events in my mind often. Its kind of depressing to compare these episodes of temporary extreme happiness to regular mundane life. But, eventually the memories will fade and everything won't seem so comparitivly bad anymore.
I could go through the details of happiness in some attempt to capure it. So I could carry it around with me always, but its just memories, the experience is over. Its best to just move on with life.
This is why I practice zen meditation, it allows me to wipe away the immediateness of the memories and accept life with a clear head.
With that, its time for zen.