Wasted-life-musings - Musings Of A Wasted Life

I soon came to understand that drink, tobacco and prostitutes were all great means if dissipating (even for a few moments) my dread for human beings. I came even to feel that if I had to sell every last possession to obtain these means of escape, it would be well worth it.

Osamu Dazai

Concerning Lucifer part 1

Lucifer, latin for the morning star, venus, or simply light bringer, the enlightened one.  In pre Judaic times, Canaanite mythology, Lucifer, or Attar, as he’s referred as, attempted to claim the throne of Ba'al and, finding he was unable to do so, descended and ruled the underworld.  Our Judaeo-Christian version is about the same, in ours Lucifer thought God was treating humans as children and puppets and thought we could handle more, he also thought he could handle more and was being underutilized in heaven, and god and him had a war and you know the rest.

In the garden, he appears as a serpent, and tells Eve to eat from the “ tree of knowledge of good and evil “ which we all sort of assume is sex, and yeah, it is, but it has more undertones than that, anyways I digress.  He wanted humans, being godlike in the very nature of their creation, like lucifer, in gods image, thought they deserved to know more. 

If you actually read the bible, and take it literally ( it’s been proven atheists actually know the bible a large percentage more than devout christians, like the bible says, know thy enemy... ) then everything that makes humans, humans, is due to lucifers influence.  Our need to question, explore ( especially sexually ) our distaste for authority and our love of knowledge and of conquer.  Our innate need to scape the world in straight lines we can understand rather than letting the path wind as it may. 

All god did was make us, kick us out of his house, drowned us, turned us to salt, then said well you’re on your own now, and abandoned us.  In the book of Job God makes a bet with Satan, God being petty as he is says no no, people all love me, look at job, job praises me daily.  Satan says well thats just because you’re good to him, if you werent hed curse your name.  So god killed all of jobs livestock and crops, killed his wife and children and gave job painful blisters all over his body, and job still praises gods name.  God turns to satan and says ha ha poopyface, see, i win!  Poopyface.  and Satan presumably takes a sip of booze in silent horror and confusion and says yup, you win again, i guess...

Satan appeared to jesus when he was in the desert and said you know, ya dads gonna kill you, your friends betrayed you and i just wanted you to know, im not like, asking for your soul or anything.  And jesus was like fuck you satan my daddys the best, my daddies always right poopyface!  and satan shrugged and said like, the fuck is up with these people...can lead a horse to water I guess, then he presumably got drunk and had some kinky leatherclad fetish sex with someone. 

People are always hating on Satan, because they dont understand him, and nothing scares humans more than what they cant understand.

“ But who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most, our one fellow and brother who most needed a friend yet had not a single one, the one sinner among us all who had the highest and clearest right to every Christian's daily and nightly prayers, for the plain and unassailable reason that his was the first and greatest need, he being among sinners the supremest? “ - Mark Twain

Do not sleep under a roof. Carry no money or food. Go alone to places frightening to the common brand of men. Become a criminal of purpose. Be put in jail, and extricate yourself by your own wisdom

Miyomoto Musashi

“ Jimmy’s teacher was very annoyed, he gave Jimmy the cane, he shared his syringe with a class full of boys, now they all want the same, heroin heroin, and cocaine, heroin heroin and cocaine... “

“ For seven long years I’ve been in prison, for 7 long more I have to stay, just for knocking a man down in an alley, and taking his gold watch away.  Sitting alone, sad all alone, sitting in my cell, all alone, oh thinking of those good times gone by me, knowing that I once had a home “

Clay, did you ever love me?" I'm studying a billboard and say that I didn't hear what she said. "I asked if you ever loved me?" On the terrace the sun bursts into my eyes and for one blinding moment I see myself clearly. I remember the first time we made love, in the house in Palm Springs, her body tan and wet, lying against cool, white sheets. "Don't do this, Blair," I tell her. "Just tell me." I don't say anything. "Is it such a hard question to answer?" I look at her straight on. "Yes or no?" "Why?" "Damnit, Clay," she sighs. "Yeah, sure, I guess." "Don't lie to me." "What in the fuck do you want to hear?" "Just tell me," she says, her voice rising. "No," I almost shout. "I never did." I almost start to laugh. She draws in a breath and says, "Thank you. That's all I wanted to know." She sips her wine. "Did you ever love me?" I ask her back, though by now I can't even care. She pauses. "I thought about it and yeah, I did once. I mean I really did. Everything was all right for a while. You were kind." She looks down and then goes on. "But it was like you weren't there. Oh shit, this isn't going to make any sense." She stops. I look at her, waiting for her to go on, looking up at the billboard. Disappear Here. "I don't know if any other person I've been with has been really there, either ... but at least they tried." I finger the menu; put the cigarette out. "You never did. Other people made an effort and you just ... It was just beyond you." She takes another sip of her wine. "You were never there. I felt sorry for you for a little while, but then I found it hard to. You're a beautiful boy, Clay, but that's about it." I watch the cars pass by on Sunset. "It's hard to feel sorry for someone who doesn't care." "Yeah?" I ask. "What do you care about? What makes you happy?" "Nothing. Nothing makes me happy. I like nothing," I tell her. "Did you ever care about me, Clay?" I don't say anything, look back at the menu. "Did you ever care about me?" she asks again. "I don't want to care. If I care about things, it'll just be worse, it'll just be another thing to worry about. It's less painful if I don't care." "I cared about you for a little while." I don't say anything. She takes off her sunglasses and finally says, "I'll see you later, Clay." She gets up. "Where are you going?" I suddenly don't want to leave Blair here. I almost want to take her back with me. "Have to meet someone for lunch." "But what about us?" "What about us?" She stands there for a moment, waiting. I keep staring at the billboard until it begins to blur and when my vision becomes clearer I watch as Blair's car glides out of the parking lot and becomes lost in the haze of traffic on Sunset. The waiter comes over and asks, "Is everything okay, sir?" I look up and put my sunglasses on and try to smile. "Yeah.

Bret Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero

Concerning Books of Literary Importance

In highschool I took Classical literature, creative writing, and poetic verse, I’d like to think I’ve read at least 75% of the things you were all forced to read.  of those books maybe 75% of them mattered, if that.  I found long after I was forced to read, I read and found things significant to me, not significant as a generalization, and to me that proves most if not all learning is self learning.  Don’t real what youre told to, or do and make ya own judgement, learn what you want, dont learn what you dont, as much as society hates it, our brains tend to pick their own topics of specialization unannounced to us, dont be “smart” just use your brain the best you can. 

Dickheads.

Dream Journals

I’ve decided to start writing dreams down, so I might as well take up space here with em, some will be old dreams I remember still, some will be new dreams, just dreams, the only time we’re honest with ourselves and therefore the most honest i can be with you ( not that my 3 day old tumblr has alot of readers yet )

October 15th or something:  Fell asleep drunk watching the walking dead, dreamed I was being attacked by cops, it was a good ol time for a while til i was overwhelmed.  They’re run up, id stab them in the heart, another would come, stab, etc, eventually there was too many to stab and i ran, pretty self explanatory really, dreams are half subconscious mind and half replaying what we’ve seen experienced that day.  Now if i had that dream on say a Bahama vacation, well, worry then