you are right where you need to be
This is the fragmentation station, where ideas come to smolder and the list grows as long as the day grows old. I will slowly be adding to the total list of fragments, as well as adding to fragments that particularly interest me, some of which may someday grow into essays. The seeds of these fragments come from moments and sometimes begin their workshopping process in the land of the dreams. All in all these may each become a series of novels, or some may die in the exact form they take now, only time and my dedication will decide. Thank you and good luck.
Its horrible and cruel and absurd to say the least, where would one possibly acquire so many dead old people? Why is there seemingly no end to their arrival? And of all places why is it here that they have arrived? Stranger still than any of this however is the biggest conundrum of all; why do they all taste so damn good?! I mean grilled, sautéed, boiled, it really doesn’t matter and it’s delicious, no seasoning necessary! The first guy to taste them got killed by the mobs, but by the 5th or 6th time lone people got curious and sure enough, melt in your mouth, creamy, garlicky, wonderful! It even seemed as though the flavor of them changed person to person and perfectly fit their palate. I mean they were already dead when they got here so what’s the harm right? Well, that style of questioning has led to some trouble and now here came ours. Despite the fact that they were already dead, apparently cannibalism is cannibalism so now there is a massive outbreak of wendigos, so that’s been interesting. Yeah, it turns out the natives actually knew a bunch of shit, and we probably should have listened, but fuck it, it’s raining 100 Billion Dead Old People.
In order to point myself in a direction I have to know what my values are. This is because I feel the need to have a purpose in order to feel as though I am not stagnating. I think one of my biggest flaws is complacency, although people that fall prey to it don’t seem too unhappy. Maybe it is the pursuit that we should savor but not covet, as when we chase movement, we may run from what we don’t know we need. Similarly to how winning the lottery ruins more lives than it perfects, my yearning for progress may lead me away from what I truly need due to imperfect assumptions about the future and what in life brings me happiness. I think I feel lost often and I have been trying to make a map and get un-lost, but I think in life it’s more about becoming good at, and okay with… being lost.
It’s been a while since I checked in just because I’ve been so busy. It’s an excuse I use a lot and to be fair it’s got plenty of merit in the chaos that is my life. I use that excuse to many people for many different reasons. What are my real priorities and what business of mine merits being too busy for the people I love? I suppose it feels like a passive choice, like as I said, I was predestined to be too busy just by being me. If my plate wasn’t as full I would fill it to give merit to my excuses. As excuses go it’s not bad but what is it worth to me to be busy? I suppose if the choice is a dichotomy of either total openness or total busyness at least one has tangible outputs. This is my expectations influencing not only my choices but my actual reality. So self involved!
A chance encounter as much as any other, I knew what had been created between us would never be destroyed. I was forged of my mother’s iron will and steely resolve and I was tempered in the blood of her womb. Despite our bloody and long anticipated introduction, the pact we shared in was one of calm, kind, solidarity in which we recognized in one another a spirit of creation. In her it was present in her vision and in me it was in my head. She saw a world that was hurting but didn’t have to and I asked how. Any time I thought I was growing out of it and standing on my own she would tell me what I knew and I’d be so angry I’d just run and hide. But the problem is you can’t hide for long from the person that put all the good hiding places there for you. Even knowing I have limitless love and respect for her, I get angry with her from fear of seeing in her the origins of the things I repress most in myself, which forces me to remember me. Some days I’m mad I was put here without permission, but if anyone was going to be the messenger I’m glad it was her.
I was thinking about my shoulder pain and evaluating my feelings towards the pain. I realized that up until now I had hated, dreaded and almost deified the pain into my tormentor. At a random moment I wondered what it would be like to love the pain in the way a masochist or something does. The thought made me laugh because although it felt ridiculous, it worked. I loved my pain and decided I not only expected it but revered it! Granted, my pain level on average is probably low on an absolute scale, the psychological weight of it was the real trick. In this realization I almost instinctually applied this love universally and I have now realized that the Buddha was right that the root of suffering is expectation, but on top of radical acceptance of what is, I would posit a deep love in an unconditional form for all things equally. In this radical love is also an acceptance and understanding of the innate unity that pervades all people, places, things, and nothings. I also realized in the moment that in loving the thing, no loss was generated upon its disappearance as I loved its alternative equally as much. Loss was then therefore less so loss and more so transformation. The practical application of this radical love theory with the material conditions I find myself within feels impossible, but maybe through love change could come. My problem is a lack of understanding on so many levels but mainly I’m figuring out a way to break the cycle of violence. It feels inevitable, and therefore like the best option, for violence to occur prior to any meaningful regime or status quo change. My issue is in the cyclical nature of systems being toppled in favor of a “violence free” system brought about through violence. Or a “class free” society founded on the division of classes in order to get rid of “senates” in favor of “committees.” To me it seems when you base your revolution on the oppressors’ rule book, you’re bound to become their successor.
A lazy day is a luxury rarely afforded to people like me. When one does roll around I find myself a blur of action to facilitate my inaction. By the time I’ve wound down from setting up it’s time to clean up and settle down. The days between lazy days turn to years and all the while I’m planning and replanning my approach so as to optimize my resting. If I get any less than the maximum possible value from my lazy days they’ll be no different than the years worth of non-lazy days between them.
Entry 1: Fuck, man… 3rd week in a row, no word on when the scouts may be back with rations, but at this point I’d prefer they came back with a couple of doses for the whole tribe. Sandra had taken the last charge and the remnants of her removal still laid in the square for all of us to be jealous of. A place like this was never meant to be used for so long and it is beginning to be obvious. Even the protein printers’ best attempts fall short of sustenance, not for the body, but the soul. Just another day at Amazon 2035.
Entry 2: In today’s day and age there is no time to get lost. Every step, every breath, every second is accounted for and plotted on your handy dandy LifeTrack™. I can’t even imagine where I’d be without mine, probably lost in a field somewhere walking in circles trying to find my Amazon workstation so as to avoid the cullings™. And that’s another thing. If I didn’t have my LifeTrack™ how could I possibly cast my vote for who was the weakest link in the company talent show (it was Beverly, nobody cares about juggling)? I heard one time there was a new recruit that refused his LifeTrack™ interface as it “goes against God to put Jeff Bezos in any brain but his own,” but seeing as how he was never seen again, the message from corporate was loud and clear. All things considered it’s not too bad at the Amazon Interplanetary Distribution System, or AIDS for short. AIDS does the galaxy a lot of good. I like doing my part to facilitate the spread, and if that part has to include eating my recycled coworkers, so be it! At least I have a purpose. Thank you Jeff Bezos for AIDS. I don’t know what I would do without it.
Your life = your perception (your actions + your circumstances)
I say this because although the facticity of your life is determined by actions taken and circumstances, the sum total of your life is represented by your perception of the whole thing. Whatever your position, perceptionally (?) multiplies the facticity either upwardly or downwardly, exponentially. This being said, your life cannot be evaluated except in its entirety by its nature and thus we cannot judge life while we possess it.