Wasted-life-musings - Musings Of A Wasted Life

You’re not a bad person for the ways you tried to kill your sadness.

(via dignitea)

Man created God in his image: intolerant, sexist, homophobic and violent.

George Weinberg (via question-everythinng)

Even the most courageous among us only rarely has the courage to face what he already knows.

Nietzsche

https://www.youtube.com/embed/U2bMIvY3twI

If you have any deductive power you will know, A.) I AM a rap fan, and B.) 90% of rap is just, total shit.  When I took poetic verse in school we learned different formats for rhyming most rap A rhymes with B and sometimes C is thrown in, so you get blahblah blah A, blah blahblah B, C A B C C, if you can follow all that.

Much like Reggae, Funk or Blues rap is very formulaic, but this is a man who not only has something to actually say but does it in a format entirely his own.  Does he have better songs, absolutely, does this song prove the point, definitely.  Ladies and Gentleman if you dont know that DOOM’s nervous large you don’t know rap.  I’ll put money on it, interview any rapper worth a fuck and he will tell you he’s a DOOM fan. 

" It wasn't until I was quite big I saw my first train.  I climbed up and down the station bridge, quite unaware that its function was to permit people to cross from one track to another.  I was convinced that the bridge had been provided to lend an exotic touch and to make the station premises a place of pleasant diversity, like some foreign playground. "

" I remained under this delusion for quite a long time, and for me it was a very refined amusement indeed to climb up and down the bridge.  I thought that it was one of the most elegant services provided by the railways.  When later I discovered the bridge was nothing but a utilitarian device, I lost all interest in it. "

A man, perhaps even you, sits one day on a rockface high above a roaring sea.  He lights a cigarette, and watches as the water batters the rocks, as he watches, for hours the waters rise and fall, he contemplates that fate itself must work in much the same way, he inserts himself into this concept and continues contemplating his existence.  

A small child happens upon the man, the rock face though precarious being easily reachable by a certain means, and pulls from her pocket a small collection of shells and rocks she has found, and how proud she is of them.  The man speaks with her awhile, about her collection and how its a wonderful collection, the only of its kind in all of existence, and produces his own pretty rock he found on his walk, and places it in her hand.

The mother, finding lost child apprehensively calls to her, seeing she is amongst company of this strange man on the rock face.  As it happens, it then comes to pass a strong breeze hits them and the frail girl is sent hurtling towards the edge of the rocks, and the man grabbing her coat, stops her from tumbling down the cliffside.

The mother frantically runs towards the man and flings herself onto him, latching on in unbenounced appreciation and depth.  The man not anticipating this, loses footing and the man and mother topple down the rocks and the child is left an orphan, just her and her rocks.

No good deed goes unpunished, as they say.

Swedish children discuss the concept of god in a way that makes most adults look like morons.  Just for fun, here’s a list of the most atheist countries in the world:

1 - China

2 - Japan

3 - Czech Republic

4 - France

5 - Australia

6 - Iceland

I tell Nicos flowered backside how beautiful she is, how sweet she is and how much I need her. Her skin and hair. To make it last, because this is the only time I can say it. Because the moment this is over, we'll hate eachother. The only person we'll hate more than eachother is ourselves. These are the only few moments I can be human, just for these minutes, I don't feel lonely. And riding me up and down, Nico says, ' so when do I get to meet your mom?' And ' never ' I say, ' That's impossible, I mean. ' ...Ask any man about his mom during sex, and you can delay the big blast forever. And Nico says, ' So is she dead now? ' and I say, ' sort of. ' Anymore when i go to visit my mom, I don't even pretend to be myself, hell i don't even pretend to know myself very well, not anymore. My mom, it's like her sole occupation at this point is losing weight. What's left of her is so thin she has to be a puppet.... The next time I go to visit my mom I'm still Fred Hastings, her old public defender, and she keeps me yakking all afternoon. I tell her I'm not married, and she says that's a shame...The next visit I'm still Fred, but married and with 3 children. ' Three is too many, people should stop at two ' she says, the next visit I have two. Every visit there's less and less of her under the blanket, in another way there's less and less of Victor Mancini sitting in the chair next to her bed. The next day I'm myself again, and it's only a few minutes before my mom rings for the nurse to escort me back to the lobby. We sit not talking then she says ' Victor ' she says, ' I need to tell you something....Fred Hastings was here, you remember Fred don't you? These days he has a wife and two perfect children, it was such a pleasure ' my mom says ' to see life work out for such a good person. ' ' I told him to buy land ' my moms says ' they're not making it anymore ' I ask her who she means by they, and she presses the nurse button again

Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

It is really a puzzle what drives one to take one’s work so devilishly seriously. For who? For oneself? One soon departs this world, after all. For one’s contemporaries? For posterity? No. It remains a puzzle.

Albert Einstein

(via

entheognosis

)