People are scum.
People are beauty.
People kill people, and people raise children. People travel to the moon, and people poison the planet earth. People care for the elderly and people rape the young in dark alleys. people write poetry, and people fight wars. People love. People think. People hate and react and burn down what they don't understand. People are all fucked up on dangerously experimental designer drugs.
I am people. You are people. We are people.
I will understand people if it is the last goddamn thing I do.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Magic Numbers
Energy caught, outside of time, so over controlled-
I am losing my mind.
What is required, what must I do, are you for real?
Can you take me with you?
This is the force of life, 7300 kilo-calories per mole; of pure unadulterated energy
What are you doing right now?
taking notes? crossing your legs? coughing? digesting your food? listening to your voice mail? when the professor is lecturing, every aspect of the human body.
EVERY SINGLE THING IT MEANS TO BE ALIVE!
I sleep with a ball-peen hammer. Or at least, there's one in my bed. I haven't actually slept in four days; every time I feel myself blink for more then a few seconds I go to my sock drawer and wash down a handful of vasopressin, piracetam, anhydous caffeine and a little octopamine with a glass of grapefruit juice.
I am going to kick open the skull of society and jack off boiling poisonous truth directly into its brain even if it kills me.
I am losing my mind.
What is required, what must I do, are you for real?
Can you take me with you?
This is the force of life, 7300 kilo-calories per mole; of pure unadulterated energy
What are you doing right now?
taking notes? crossing your legs? coughing? digesting your food? listening to your voice mail? when the professor is lecturing, every aspect of the human body.
EVERY SINGLE THING IT MEANS TO BE ALIVE!
I sleep with a ball-peen hammer. Or at least, there's one in my bed. I haven't actually slept in four days; every time I feel myself blink for more then a few seconds I go to my sock drawer and wash down a handful of vasopressin, piracetam, anhydous caffeine and a little octopamine with a glass of grapefruit juice.
I am going to kick open the skull of society and jack off boiling poisonous truth directly into its brain even if it kills me.
DEUS EX SAPIENS
YOU are god and if you believe in an external god you are taking belief away from yourself and putting it into the hands of the universe, blaming freak accident on someone else's choice. You are wasting precious hours reciting passages of another man's writing, another man's god, to try and subscribe to that man's views.
And on those same lines, you will read this and believe whatever you want to believe. I am not your god. I do not want to be your God. or god. Capitalise or don't, it's irrelevant, for His name is Her name is Your name.
Our fathers were our models for God. If our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God? You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you. This is not the worst thing that can happen. We don't need Him. Fuck damnation, man, fuck redemption! If we are God's unwanted children, so be it!
So said Chuck, and on many counts, he is right, but in the wrong way. God hates you because when you take faith away from yourself you take love away from yourself. God is in the mind. God is in the details. God is love and love is the message. Love yourself. Believe in yourself.
And find someone with whom you can share the little details.
And on those same lines, you will read this and believe whatever you want to believe. I am not your god. I do not want to be your God. or god. Capitalise or don't, it's irrelevant, for His name is Her name is Your name.
Our fathers were our models for God. If our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God? You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you. This is not the worst thing that can happen. We don't need Him. Fuck damnation, man, fuck redemption! If we are God's unwanted children, so be it!
So said Chuck, and on many counts, he is right, but in the wrong way. God hates you because when you take faith away from yourself you take love away from yourself. God is in the mind. God is in the details. God is love and love is the message. Love yourself. Believe in yourself.
And find someone with whom you can share the little details.
Monday, February 2, 2009
momentous momentum, unveiled at last
this will not be a long blog post.
this will not be a self-piteous whine hidden behind the thin veneer of aesthetically enjoyable literism.
I have reached a moment in my life wherin I am face with total catharsis and disconnection from the anchors that hold me in place.
it is not my intention to forget. I know how I feel, and I think I know how she feels. But until such a point when such feeligns can overlap, I have to make the most of it.
I have discovered certain... elements of nature to which we natural philosophers cannot yet ascribe a logical explanation. I cannot live in a world I do not understand.
The central misfits who all of them, owe me money, time and emotion will have to solve their own problems from heron in. There is no longer any reason for me to see them ever again. I have friends there, yes... but they are fair-weather friends to the end.
it is time to take my work back underground. To prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.
pleasant dreams, world. experience thineself.
this will not be a self-piteous whine hidden behind the thin veneer of aesthetically enjoyable literism.
I have reached a moment in my life wherin I am face with total catharsis and disconnection from the anchors that hold me in place.
it is not my intention to forget. I know how I feel, and I think I know how she feels. But until such a point when such feeligns can overlap, I have to make the most of it.
I have discovered certain... elements of nature to which we natural philosophers cannot yet ascribe a logical explanation. I cannot live in a world I do not understand.
The central misfits who all of them, owe me money, time and emotion will have to solve their own problems from heron in. There is no longer any reason for me to see them ever again. I have friends there, yes... but they are fair-weather friends to the end.
it is time to take my work back underground. To prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.
pleasant dreams, world. experience thineself.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Lost in the woods.
Emotion is not a lightswitch. You cannot fall in and out of love. These things don't stop and start without some incredible emotional upset.
You can stop loving yourself. When you do, you need someone else to show you the path of light. But if you love someone else? Love means forever. Love means seeing the faults and seeing the problems and still loving. Love is unconditional and undying and love. is. forever.
it's one of those words that if you say it enough it stops making sense. Like 'fork' or 'book'.
not being able to say you love someone doesn't mean you don't care for them. Doesn't mean you don't want to be there for them. it just means you place more weight on it then they do.
I do love her. I know this because even though she has eaten a tiny part of me forever, I still want things to work. And that's more then jsut a reactionary thing to having lost something I thought was secure in my life. Because if that was the case, the feelings would be very... constant.
This isn't. I polarise, between rage and misery and love and angst and apathy and nonchalance and sickness. I cried when she told me she didn't love me any more. I puked when I saw her laying next to another guy. I screamed at the sky when she told me I needed to find love in myself.
Every time I think about that doof I break whatever I'm holding. Every time I think about her, my brain drops whatever pieces of my heart it's holding.
it takes time to tell someone you love them. It's jsut a shame they couldn't wait that long. That the first better option that came along also turned out to be such a giant douchebag. It breaks my heart to see her so hurt, but it hurts even more to know that even though he was using her, even though I love her and am trying to fix what was wrong, she still can't find it in herself to say it back.
Everything's backwards. When things were at their worst with us, before this whole thing. We'd be together, she'd be two steps behind because I was always hurrying. She'd have to start everything - Instigate our connections, when or where we'd meet up, when we'd touch or kiss. She'd tell me how it hurt her to not hear the words back, to not feel in me what she knew I was making her feel.
it's because she said those things that I have hope.
Hope that I'm not that person any more.
Hope that someday she'll be who she wants to be.
I have hope because I know she didn't do any of this maliciously. She didn't sleep with him to get back at me. She's not vindictive, not without due cause.
She's not avoiding me because she wants me to feel what its like. She says these things because she means them.
it hurts. It hurts more then anything I've ever felt before, about anyone, or anything. More then physical torment, worse then any emotional heartache I've had before.
She says she doesn't love me any more. I don't believe ehr, because love is forever.
Either she never loved me, or she just isn't ready to admit she loves me still.
She says that something's gone, something's changed... if anything's gone, she took it away, but somehow I still wind up being the one apologising every time we hang up on each other.
She wants space to figure out who she was. I want her to have space, because I think she needs this. I jsut don't want to see her fall into a pit of hedonism, absolute solitude and self-loathing.
but I can't stop her if she wants to. I have to let go now, and wait and watch and jsut hope she'll be okay.
I'm walking through the woods in the dark. i don't know where I'm going, I don't know when I'll get there, all I know is that when i get there I'll be alone in the cold and the dark until someone else finds me.
I know we'll never be together again. Just writing that sentence is bringing tears to my eyes. Anyone who knows me... Knows that this is real.
I just wish she did too.
You can stop loving yourself. When you do, you need someone else to show you the path of light. But if you love someone else? Love means forever. Love means seeing the faults and seeing the problems and still loving. Love is unconditional and undying and love. is. forever.
it's one of those words that if you say it enough it stops making sense. Like 'fork' or 'book'.
not being able to say you love someone doesn't mean you don't care for them. Doesn't mean you don't want to be there for them. it just means you place more weight on it then they do.
I do love her. I know this because even though she has eaten a tiny part of me forever, I still want things to work. And that's more then jsut a reactionary thing to having lost something I thought was secure in my life. Because if that was the case, the feelings would be very... constant.
This isn't. I polarise, between rage and misery and love and angst and apathy and nonchalance and sickness. I cried when she told me she didn't love me any more. I puked when I saw her laying next to another guy. I screamed at the sky when she told me I needed to find love in myself.
Every time I think about that doof I break whatever I'm holding. Every time I think about her, my brain drops whatever pieces of my heart it's holding.
it takes time to tell someone you love them. It's jsut a shame they couldn't wait that long. That the first better option that came along also turned out to be such a giant douchebag. It breaks my heart to see her so hurt, but it hurts even more to know that even though he was using her, even though I love her and am trying to fix what was wrong, she still can't find it in herself to say it back.
Everything's backwards. When things were at their worst with us, before this whole thing. We'd be together, she'd be two steps behind because I was always hurrying. She'd have to start everything - Instigate our connections, when or where we'd meet up, when we'd touch or kiss. She'd tell me how it hurt her to not hear the words back, to not feel in me what she knew I was making her feel.
it's because she said those things that I have hope.
Hope that I'm not that person any more.
Hope that someday she'll be who she wants to be.
I have hope because I know she didn't do any of this maliciously. She didn't sleep with him to get back at me. She's not vindictive, not without due cause.
She's not avoiding me because she wants me to feel what its like. She says these things because she means them.
it hurts. It hurts more then anything I've ever felt before, about anyone, or anything. More then physical torment, worse then any emotional heartache I've had before.
She says she doesn't love me any more. I don't believe ehr, because love is forever.
Either she never loved me, or she just isn't ready to admit she loves me still.
She says that something's gone, something's changed... if anything's gone, she took it away, but somehow I still wind up being the one apologising every time we hang up on each other.
She wants space to figure out who she was. I want her to have space, because I think she needs this. I jsut don't want to see her fall into a pit of hedonism, absolute solitude and self-loathing.
but I can't stop her if she wants to. I have to let go now, and wait and watch and jsut hope she'll be okay.
I'm walking through the woods in the dark. i don't know where I'm going, I don't know when I'll get there, all I know is that when i get there I'll be alone in the cold and the dark until someone else finds me.
I know we'll never be together again. Just writing that sentence is bringing tears to my eyes. Anyone who knows me... Knows that this is real.
I just wish she did too.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Angela
I want to weave a musical spell, that leaves you unwell and thinking of me everyday.
I want to play you a tune that leaves you marooned and troubled, each time I'm away...
Is there a melody... ?
that could lead you to me - like a lullabied child led to sleep?
So for one moment in time, you'd find that your mine
And softly I'd kiss you and weep.
I want to write a simple song that's so frequently sung,
That you call me to have the thing banned...
Who's sound so endears that whole nations cheer and sigh
When you take my hand.
Is there a melody... ?
that could lead you to me - like a lullabied child led to sleep?
So for one moment in time, you'd find that your mine
And softly I'd kiss you and weep...
For I'm a gambler that just wants to lose,
and be allowed to leave.
I'm a traveler with one last mile... my journey is complete.
I'm like a swallow that wants one long last look, before flying east.
Last on my list - and then I quit - to kiss your lips and weep.
I want to play a silver note that fills you with hope
And tames you to feed from my hand.
A turquoise chord that invites you to soar
And fly… to a far away land.
A symphony that gently leads you to sit and be still with me.
And grief doesn't frighten me
Cause I want to kiss you and weep.
For I'm a gambler that just wants to lose... and be allowed to leave.
I'm a traveler - with one last mile. My journey is complete.
I'm like a swallow that wants one long last look... before flying east...
Last on my list - and then I quit - to kiss your lips and weep.
Is there a melody - that could lead you to me - like a lullabied child led to sleep?
So for one moment in time you'd find that your mine
And softly I'd kiss you and weep.
So for one moment in time, you'd find that you're mine
And softly I'd kiss you and weep.
I want to play you a tune that leaves you marooned and troubled, each time I'm away...
Is there a melody... ?
that could lead you to me - like a lullabied child led to sleep?
So for one moment in time, you'd find that your mine
And softly I'd kiss you and weep.
I want to write a simple song that's so frequently sung,
That you call me to have the thing banned...
Who's sound so endears that whole nations cheer and sigh
When you take my hand.
Is there a melody... ?
that could lead you to me - like a lullabied child led to sleep?
So for one moment in time, you'd find that your mine
And softly I'd kiss you and weep...
For I'm a gambler that just wants to lose,
and be allowed to leave.
I'm a traveler with one last mile... my journey is complete.
I'm like a swallow that wants one long last look, before flying east.
Last on my list - and then I quit - to kiss your lips and weep.
I want to play a silver note that fills you with hope
And tames you to feed from my hand.
A turquoise chord that invites you to soar
And fly… to a far away land.
A symphony that gently leads you to sit and be still with me.
And grief doesn't frighten me
Cause I want to kiss you and weep.
For I'm a gambler that just wants to lose... and be allowed to leave.
I'm a traveler - with one last mile. My journey is complete.
I'm like a swallow that wants one long last look... before flying east...
Last on my list - and then I quit - to kiss your lips and weep.
Is there a melody - that could lead you to me - like a lullabied child led to sleep?
So for one moment in time you'd find that your mine
And softly I'd kiss you and weep.
So for one moment in time, you'd find that you're mine
And softly I'd kiss you and weep.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Dancing in the dark
Forensic Sci 9:195-203 - Oliver JS, Smith H, WIlliams DJ (1977) tells us that putrefying bodies have been shown to develop non-negligible proportions of b-phenethylamine under the right conditions... namely, kill it, chill it, inject sodium fluoride at about 1mg/L into the bloodstream, manually massage and then allow to rot for about a week before draining the blood and commencing electrophoreisis... these were studies on human cadavers, but I'm assuming most higher mammals would do the same thing... i was thinking maybe bulk-buy baby rabbits from irresponsible neighbourhood children, or just breed my own and gas 'em with sarin, which would also nicely push out the anticholinesterase balance to our favour...
cruel and unusual, but possibly viable! some human cadavers 3 weeks putrefied in a 14*C cooler were detected to have b-phen up to 193mg/L
it's a small yeild, but easily obtained and very repeatable.
apparently natural concentrations of 'wild' cadavers peak out about 5 hours postmortem but cholinesterase rips the shit out of everything after that... so chilling promotes higher production and NaF inhibits breakdown... internal surface flesh from the superior and inferior vena cava and right heart also bears marked additional concentrations
I wonder how hard it would be to steal a vegetable body from a hospital, set up a life-support system in my lab and jsut tweak his biochemistry to the desired enzyme stats and start pushing apiole or safrole into his liver... but then again, rabbits are far more efficient for that particular conversion... "Determination of biogenic amines in wine after clean-up by solid-phase extraction" - O. Busto, M. Mestres, J. Guasch and F. Borrull says that simple ion exchange cartridges and HPLC is pulling 50ug/L of phenethylamine derivatives from commercial wines.. with a little adaption, it shouldn't be too hard to be cleaning at least 100mg/L of beta-phenthylamine from a decent cadaver. most bodies are about 11% blood of mass, so for your average human male we're talking 4.7-5 litres... 500mg of b-PEA suitably preserved with a dash of NaF is enough for a little under 300mg of molly, via the easiest (but not the best-yeilding) pathway... with a lot of good equipment I could probably get 90-100% conversion rate! So, two bodies under ideal conditions would give me a gram of pure MDMA, which is enough for, say, ten good pills. In my awful, shitty city pills of that clibre go for up to $50 each. $500 more then covers the cost of a brick to hit hobos with, plus it's really freaking cool.
then again, most processed cheeses can be carrying up to 58mg/kg of b-PEA, according to "Biogenic amines in processed cheese available in Egypt" - International Dairy Journal Volume 6, Issues 11-12, November-December 1996, Pages 1079-1086 (M. M. El-Sayed) and cheese is a lot easier to hold onto then corpses...
But oh how I LOVE to recycle!
cruel and unusual, but possibly viable! some human cadavers 3 weeks putrefied in a 14*C cooler were detected to have b-phen up to 193mg/L
it's a small yeild, but easily obtained and very repeatable.
apparently natural concentrations of 'wild' cadavers peak out about 5 hours postmortem but cholinesterase rips the shit out of everything after that... so chilling promotes higher production and NaF inhibits breakdown... internal surface flesh from the superior and inferior vena cava and right heart also bears marked additional concentrations
I wonder how hard it would be to steal a vegetable body from a hospital, set up a life-support system in my lab and jsut tweak his biochemistry to the desired enzyme stats and start pushing apiole or safrole into his liver... but then again, rabbits are far more efficient for that particular conversion... "Determination of biogenic amines in wine after clean-up by solid-phase extraction" - O. Busto, M. Mestres, J. Guasch and F. Borrull says that simple ion exchange cartridges and HPLC is pulling 50ug/L of phenethylamine derivatives from commercial wines.. with a little adaption, it shouldn't be too hard to be cleaning at least 100mg/L of beta-phenthylamine from a decent cadaver. most bodies are about 11% blood of mass, so for your average human male we're talking 4.7-5 litres... 500mg of b-PEA suitably preserved with a dash of NaF is enough for a little under 300mg of molly, via the easiest (but not the best-yeilding) pathway... with a lot of good equipment I could probably get 90-100% conversion rate! So, two bodies under ideal conditions would give me a gram of pure MDMA, which is enough for, say, ten good pills. In my awful, shitty city pills of that clibre go for up to $50 each. $500 more then covers the cost of a brick to hit hobos with, plus it's really freaking cool.
then again, most processed cheeses can be carrying up to 58mg/kg of b-PEA, according to "Biogenic amines in processed cheese available in Egypt" - International Dairy Journal Volume 6, Issues 11-12, November-December 1996, Pages 1079-1086 (M. M. El-Sayed) and cheese is a lot easier to hold onto then corpses...
But oh how I LOVE to recycle!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)