irsinkast

It is really cold isn't it. Some one percent  is hauling it in.  The rest dangles  from the trees.  Hanging out to dry  or something.  No stranger than  southern fruit.  No different from it.  As color is no longer  a discriminating component  in this here dusk.  This is all of  an unprecedented blackness.  The new weight  is ownership.  The heavier you are  the harder to hang.  Everybody has bought into it  for the promise of a chance  at the title. This is a clever arrangement  with a huge contingency of failure  and an even larger circle of collateral.  They will take it all  and blame you for being  so stupid and careless.  For signing the contract.  It almost seems devised  to serve the purpose  of scraping the flesh  off the bones.  Every single acquisition  gets lost to the method.  The family land too.  You'd...

I see. You and me  and all of us  have these moments  too impossible to mention. We think they are  too feeble to mean anything.  So we cover them up  with beautiful  and exciting adventures  and forget all about them.  We delude  our potential.  We promise ourselves that  we shall live every ounce of this wretched life  to the fullest.  Wasting time is sinful.  Living,  forcibly is a deafening churning  conspicuous turmoil.  A flagrant legacy.  Every silent minute spent in search of  your own truths and standards  apart from the ruling belief system  is punishable by social rejection.  Which is like death  for a living being.  Our weakness  makes us fold.  Obeisant.  As if we are unable  and unworthy to discover  and develop our own morals.  Our self-worth.  That is something  all of them have feared  always.  Be...

Here is a principle of authority I would like to address. It shouldn't be so but in many cases the importance of things or most certainly the effects they engender are defined more by their envelopment than by their engrained value. This shows how people defile and strip the meaning of all things. Everything gets peeled and skinned to atoms. A word spoken by one gets a different designation than it would get if spoken by another. People derive meaning from their idea of others. From the impression left by others. Which is just conjecture if you're really honest. More impressionable people find more meaning. They stand in front of it looking at it wanting it. Frantically rolling in it. Less impressionable people absorb more meaning. They are doused with it through a dearth of urge. Disinterest is like a lustful magnet for substance. It scrapes to the bare flesh of a spreading chasm. A seeping, solidifying ...

What does the world need? What is ‘the world’? Is it: the people? The economy? Nature? The planet? The future for your children? The social idea has been outlawed in favour of the capitalist oppression. In the US they would call me a communist for that. In Europe they’d call me all over the place. Still the eco-fascist I guess. Am I wrong to believe that everything is intertwined? That, due to our exploding numbers, whatever we decide will have a profound impact on everything else? That, if we want to maintain this pathetic claim of being a moral species, it would be our responsibility to factor in all variables in every decision we take. If you say: yes. Then we’d better start acting accordingly and respect the real order of things. Planet, eco-system, wildlife, humans. And not vice-versa. If you say: no. Then you’re declaring natural law. And there will be no more hiding behind anything. Not for you. Because we us the lowly the commu...

I've been out of it for a while. And it felt good. Not that I was ever really into anything. I get tired of getting stuck in the rut quite quickly. So I back out of my obligations. I’m bad with compulsions like that. Or other. The year is coming to its end and we haven’t come any closer to finding each other again. You set a standard that is no longer in my spectrum. I can’t meet it anymore. And it frustrates you. And I don’t care about it. Somewhere I lost the urge to justify or to heal it. I have amputated this need with a blunt device: replacement. A highly unelegant solution. I see your feats whiz by. The pose the gestures the allure. It’s all still there as if you never even blinked once. Again, as always, we are all completely obsolete. Your flapping of the arms. My getting all aggravated over nothing. I no longer believe it is about you. Nor that it ever was about you. It was, and is about me. I irritate me. That’s good to know. No? Very helpful indeed.

Come on. Make it happen. Proceed, grow, develop, evolve. I look up and see the clouds fly by. They race onward with insane velocities. It’s crazy come to think of it. Nothing ever stops. Neither should you. That’s what you hear every second of every day. But does it really have to be true. Isn’t it just like that because it has always been like that. Because no one knows how to challenge it anymore? Isn’t it so that all things are exactly the same? Made from the same materials bound by the same dark matters? So wouldn’t it be more true to say that in fact nothing changes? Ever. Aren’t all our efforts and all the manifestations  simply superficial. When everything comes to a shrieking halt and we squeeze ourselves out of the pace. And we interlock with the violent modulation of what we call ‘now’. Isn’t that were we feel best? Isn’t that when we feel at our very best? Isn’t that how we succeed in feeling  beyond our feelings? Whence came to life this contrast betwee...

Strictly speaking, we should all be going nuts. Killing each other off, brutally. Raping and looting town after town. It seems there is no hope whatsoever that our imaginings will overcome anything. This farce of a life is fully mechanical. Intricately conceived as it may be it remains but binary because we are caught in a simple vessel operated by cravings. Literally everything can go wrong. And so it does. A life mistakenly fabricated and knead into the pretension of expressing divinity. The painfully disfigured simulation of essence. The atrocious side-track. The universal excuse. The common failure. All indicators are there and they keep on swelling. You will find them projected into all of us on a smaller but more detrimental scale. That is why we all quickly identify them as liars when they try to push it on us. But like true cowards, we don’t flinch. We stay well on track. Not even dreaming of contradicting it. Of speaking against the allotted importance. The fight is fixed. The...