irsinkast

I freeze up when I hit it. There’s nothing I hate more than the public road to achievement. The expectations that line up like miserable mutilations of life. Because they have succeeded in fooling some that ambition matters. That things, other than real things, could matter. Which of course they can’t. The real things like life, death, food, housing, compassion, … are absolute to us while we are alive. Ambition is your pretext to justify egoism and hedonism. And while I love exploring, enjoying and developing my senses, there is no point in glorifying them at the cost of others. Mistakes: yes, ruthless ambitions: no. My disdain for objectives and milestones is inflexibly exaggerated, beyond any realism. I carry it in front of me like a doctrine. Strutting like a peacock. Wielding my contempt like an axe. (It has become the perfectly accepted excuse for my ongoing mediocrity, which almost feels like a Zen practice. But I’ll tell you about that some other time.) Ambition is on the cuttin

One of those days, again. Seem to be having many lately and it all falls down on my head. All at once. So I’m sitting back, relaxing the shoulders, lowering my breathing, loosening the jaw, lowering my eyes. Days like cliffs. Like tall building’s roof tops. Days like rope. Of reckless driving. A forever sleep. I can’t even pinpoint what I believe to have lost. It tells me nothing. It shows me everything without explaining anything. Barely staying afloat in these days. And no longer afraid to admit it. I no longer have any practical issues. But I’m left with inner turmoil. Ravaging and howling. It’s a day for heading to bed early. And to sleep in late tomorrow. Just made a mental note. Will do.