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??
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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
different.
--------(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.
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Theres a bunch of people coming over soon for a party, I need to invite people
over.
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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.