Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Pavement Inspired
June 14, 2005
All this quest for happiness and all the monks would do is give a slap to the face of an unsuspecting disciple…After all awake is happy. Their actions tell us that every instant is sewn in the fabric of spiritual bliss and does not elude one moment in time. When? One might ask… that instant is now. Tonight my cheeks have lost their luster as this computer screen sucks the pigment from my skin. The sun rays I stole at lunch had an equaling parasitic relationship to draining the moisture from my body and I sit here parched. My leg cannot stop twitching in its personified nervous contemplation. I’m thinking of the new global market and how we Americans feast on the buffet of resources in which the slaving world so diligently provides for us…and for what. Is there not one person that doesn’t mistake the menu for the meal? As if the plentiful of our life is not enough the overgrown stomachs of capitalistic hunger eats at every human quality that lingers. We are always rushing and always consuming that we are forgetting to rest, to love, to enjoy..to be human. We drink the beer for the price and the wine for the social status. But is there one person that would tell me in spits of laughter what that very wine’s body tastes like as it soaks up in the sensation of her mouth? I watch all the scenesters decked in blind adherence of social rags and in an anthem of slumping moral. They go to the show and pretend to be above the time offered and get mere enjoyment of saying they were there…it’s nuts. Maybe I’m just bitter because it’s been 15 years since I took off my socks in a scorching summer day and raced a friend on Aurora’s black asphalt. Maybe I’m bitter because I miss the those Denver dry nights where my eyes were glued to the canopy of the Colorado sky and God rained down showers of falling stars for viewing of best friend’s delight. Maybe I’m mad because I spent my embryonic years peering over my younger brother wondering what his personality would be like when he could speak…To my dismay he grew up in young man’s jail and part of that damn I.C.P. cult. I should stop typing now and lubricate my dehydrated body but before I do I close my eyes and see the check list of life before me. 1st mow the lawn 2nd do the dishes 3rd practice Jazz guitar 4th finish transcribing that Dillinger 4 song I was working on 5th eat 6th get ready for the show 7th call Janet 8th go to the show 9th watch Spoon 10th get about 4 hours of sleep 11th start my day at 5 am and spend 8 ½ hours in a cube. Once this menu of to do’s has squashed every juicy morsel of life tasteless…I wake up and do it again. I know it’s just a passing phase but I really need a Zen master to give me an enlightening slap in the face…my cheeks have lost their luster.
June 14, 2005
All this quest for happiness and all the monks would do is give a slap to the face of an unsuspecting disciple…After all awake is happy. Their actions tell us that every instant is sewn in the fabric of spiritual bliss and does not elude one moment in time. When? One might ask… that instant is now. Tonight my cheeks have lost their luster as this computer screen sucks the pigment from my skin. The sun rays I stole at lunch had an equaling parasitic relationship to draining the moisture from my body and I sit here parched. My leg cannot stop twitching in its personified nervous contemplation. I’m thinking of the new global market and how we Americans feast on the buffet of resources in which the slaving world so diligently provides for us…and for what. Is there not one person that doesn’t mistake the menu for the meal? As if the plentiful of our life is not enough the overgrown stomachs of capitalistic hunger eats at every human quality that lingers. We are always rushing and always consuming that we are forgetting to rest, to love, to enjoy..to be human. We drink the beer for the price and the wine for the social status. But is there one person that would tell me in spits of laughter what that very wine’s body tastes like as it soaks up in the sensation of her mouth? I watch all the scenesters decked in blind adherence of social rags and in an anthem of slumping moral. They go to the show and pretend to be above the time offered and get mere enjoyment of saying they were there…it’s nuts. Maybe I’m just bitter because it’s been 15 years since I took off my socks in a scorching summer day and raced a friend on Aurora’s black asphalt. Maybe I’m bitter because I miss the those Denver dry nights where my eyes were glued to the canopy of the Colorado sky and God rained down showers of falling stars for viewing of best friend’s delight. Maybe I’m mad because I spent my embryonic years peering over my younger brother wondering what his personality would be like when he could speak…To my dismay he grew up in young man’s jail and part of that damn I.C.P. cult. I should stop typing now and lubricate my dehydrated body but before I do I close my eyes and see the check list of life before me. 1st mow the lawn 2nd do the dishes 3rd practice Jazz guitar 4th finish transcribing that Dillinger 4 song I was working on 5th eat 6th get ready for the show 7th call Janet 8th go to the show 9th watch Spoon 10th get about 4 hours of sleep 11th start my day at 5 am and spend 8 ½ hours in a cube. Once this menu of to do’s has squashed every juicy morsel of life tasteless…I wake up and do it again. I know it’s just a passing phase but I really need a Zen master to give me an enlightening slap in the face…my cheeks have lost their luster.
# posted by Nick D @ 12:38 AM 
Comments:
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Taco Bell may feed your soul, but your body needs more. Did you ever think the creatine might be responsible for the nervous twitching? ;)
I've been pondering these posts of yours for a while. Listening to music and letting it take your consciousness away is great. Capturing it is even better. Herein are numerous thoughts that can be expanded on.
Millions of Americans feel as we do. This scheduled life, the cynical plots of the corporate world, this false prison where we give our time and privacy in exchange for dollars, this living in squares, and living by lists: it's absurd.
I can't say whether it's always been there, but I imagine humanity has lived differently at times. Two things impressed me about Quinn's book Ishmael:
1. The critique given for modern life.
2. The value placed on alternative models for civilization.
For example, I imagine Native American people may have lived a life of hardship. I wouldn't say it was easy. However, I bet they saw a lot more meteor showers, dwelled in emotions, and remembered to love.
What I didn't like about Ishmael, is that a problem was constructed and very little was proposed in terms of a solution. I don't believe it's a simple one-size-fits-all answer. While there are any number of answers one might propose, I suppose listing them in the book would have been too preachy. At least others have taken the theme and ran with it: doing something more to bring about positive change.
There's something about the pace of our industrialized commercial world that cannot last much longer. I think you are touching on it very well in these and other posts.
I've been pondering these posts of yours for a while. Listening to music and letting it take your consciousness away is great. Capturing it is even better. Herein are numerous thoughts that can be expanded on.
Millions of Americans feel as we do. This scheduled life, the cynical plots of the corporate world, this false prison where we give our time and privacy in exchange for dollars, this living in squares, and living by lists: it's absurd.
I can't say whether it's always been there, but I imagine humanity has lived differently at times. Two things impressed me about Quinn's book Ishmael:
1. The critique given for modern life.
2. The value placed on alternative models for civilization.
For example, I imagine Native American people may have lived a life of hardship. I wouldn't say it was easy. However, I bet they saw a lot more meteor showers, dwelled in emotions, and remembered to love.
What I didn't like about Ishmael, is that a problem was constructed and very little was proposed in terms of a solution. I don't believe it's a simple one-size-fits-all answer. While there are any number of answers one might propose, I suppose listing them in the book would have been too preachy. At least others have taken the theme and ran with it: doing something more to bring about positive change.
There's something about the pace of our industrialized commercial world that cannot last much longer. I think you are touching on it very well in these and other posts.
OK so I kicked the creatine habit. Now I’m administering shots of Gatorade directly to my penis.
“Submit a color for your checklist, color for your checklist, nigh nigh nigh.” Q and not U
http://www.qandnotu.org
I’m not sure I quoted that correctly 100% but have you ever listened to their music? It’s political abstract punk…if you ever make it to their live show; it’s guaranteed to make you dance.
Wait I just visited their site…R.I.P. Q and not U. I guess no more dance anthems with political messages.
“Submit a color for your checklist, color for your checklist, nigh nigh nigh.” Q and not U
http://www.qandnotu.org
I’m not sure I quoted that correctly 100% but have you ever listened to their music? It’s political abstract punk…if you ever make it to their live show; it’s guaranteed to make you dance.
Wait I just visited their site…R.I.P. Q and not U. I guess no more dance anthems with political messages.
Bummer. I might still have to check out their stuff. Gatorade injections sound interesting. Let me know if that makes the little lady happy.
I suck at bass, but have always enjoyed my time trying. I used to jam with some folks back in the day. It's been a while since I've even picked up the dang thing. Maybe I should take some lessons, refresh my skills, and then jam with you. Of course, most punk bass riffs are easy as hell and I'll never forget Stepping Stone!
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I suck at bass, but have always enjoyed my time trying. I used to jam with some folks back in the day. It's been a while since I've even picked up the dang thing. Maybe I should take some lessons, refresh my skills, and then jam with you. Of course, most punk bass riffs are easy as hell and I'll never forget Stepping Stone!
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