(no subject)
I wrote this last week, I guess it best sums up how I feel now. Also, new photo update, probably the last for a while.
There is no sense to life. For twenty-five thousand years man has pondered the meaning of the continual cycle of life, death, and the return of life. I would like to have been the first of the species, the first mutation of our primate ancestors, of our Neanderthal cousins, of the small-headed, large-bodied organisms whom we trace our steps toward. I would like to have been the first conscious organism, free to think without the influence of Lao Tzu, Plato, Christ, Berkeley, Nietzche, Yogananda, Sartre. I would like to have been the first organism to be able to produce thoughts not yet tarnished by the influence of lesser men, as even children are succumbed to the invisible (and sometimes flagrant) influence of the infinite conundrum of life and death and life. I would like to have been the first organism to experience the joy and astonishment that comes from seeing something grow, full of life, without any idea that death would soon be coming. I would like to have experienced the initial shock of realization of understanding death, whether it be under the circumstance of my premature mother, that of waning yellow flowers, or of the animal murdered as food to continue my very own life. I would like to have stood there at the foot of my cold mother, or with dry flowers in my hand, or staring into the blind eye of a boar as the realization of the feebleness, of the unending torrent of life-death-life brushed against my naked skin. I would like to have been the first organism to see the uselessness of life and then take up my crude flint dagger and pierce my own shallow heart, watching the stream of life flow out of me. I would like to have been lying down, my consciousness waning as life and death were becoming balanced within my body and then coming to the realization that what if one day my consciousness were to return to the earth and I once again would have to learn of this unending cycle of life-death-life. I would like to have been this organism drowning in my shallow pool of blood, staring up at the stars, wondering perhaps if somewhere out there was there not a world where life never came to an end, if perhaps through my death I could live on. I would like to have been the man who breathed the last breath as hardly a mist escaped my mouth despite the cold, until the last pulse froze - all the while my eyes staring hungrily into space.
There is no sense to life. For twenty-five thousand years man has pondered the meaning of the continual cycle of life, death, and the return of life. I would like to have been the first of the species, the first mutation of our primate ancestors, of our Neanderthal cousins, of the small-headed, large-bodied organisms whom we trace our steps toward. I would like to have been the first conscious organism, free to think without the influence of Lao Tzu, Plato, Christ, Berkeley, Nietzche, Yogananda, Sartre. I would like to have been the first organism to be able to produce thoughts not yet tarnished by the influence of lesser men, as even children are succumbed to the invisible (and sometimes flagrant) influence of the infinite conundrum of life and death and life. I would like to have been the first organism to experience the joy and astonishment that comes from seeing something grow, full of life, without any idea that death would soon be coming. I would like to have experienced the initial shock of realization of understanding death, whether it be under the circumstance of my premature mother, that of waning yellow flowers, or of the animal murdered as food to continue my very own life. I would like to have stood there at the foot of my cold mother, or with dry flowers in my hand, or staring into the blind eye of a boar as the realization of the feebleness, of the unending torrent of life-death-life brushed against my naked skin. I would like to have been the first organism to see the uselessness of life and then take up my crude flint dagger and pierce my own shallow heart, watching the stream of life flow out of me. I would like to have been lying down, my consciousness waning as life and death were becoming balanced within my body and then coming to the realization that what if one day my consciousness were to return to the earth and I once again would have to learn of this unending cycle of life-death-life. I would like to have been this organism drowning in my shallow pool of blood, staring up at the stars, wondering perhaps if somewhere out there was there not a world where life never came to an end, if perhaps through my death I could live on. I would like to have been the man who breathed the last breath as hardly a mist escaped my mouth despite the cold, until the last pulse froze - all the while my eyes staring hungrily into space.