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Topics - Majeh

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Or Kill Me / Just a little chat.
« on: January 27, 2007, 06:14:53 am »
When you die, you’re going to regret the things you don’t do. You think you’re queer? I’m going to tell you something, we’re all queer. You think you’re a thief? So what? You get befuddled by a middle-class morality? Get shut of it. Shut it out. You cheated on your girlfriend? You did it, live with it. You fuck little girls, so be it. There’s an absolute morality? May be. And then what? If you think there is, then be that thing. Bad people go to hell? I don’t think so. If you think that way, act that way. A hell exists on earth? Yes. I won’t live in it. That’s me.

You ever take a dump that made you feel like you slept for twelve hours? Or a piss? A great meal fades in reflection. Everything else gains. You know why? Cause it’s only food. This shit we eat, it keeps us going. But it’s only food. The great fucks you may have had. What do you remember about them? I don’t know. For me, I’m saying, what it is, it’s not the orgasm. Her forearms on my neck, something her eyes did. There was a sound she made...or, me, lying, in the, I’ll tell you: me lying in bed; the next day we go out and have fun. Then we fool around some more, my balls feel like concrete. Eh?

What I’m saying, what is our life? It’s looking forward or it’s looking back. And that’s our life. That’s it. Where is the moment? And what is it that we’re afraid of? Loss. What else? The bank closes. We get sick, my girlfriend dies in a car accident, the stock market collapsed, the house burnt down; what of these happen? None of ‘em. We worry anyway. What does this mean? I’m not secure. How can I be secure? Through amassing wealth beyond all measure? No. And what’s beyond all measure? That’s a sickness. That’s a trap. There is no measure. Only greed.

How can we act? The right way, we would say, to deal with this: “There is a one-in-a-million chance that so and so will happen. Fuck it, it won’t happen to me.” No. We know that is not the right way I think. We say the correct way to deal with this “There is a one-in-so-and-so chance this will happen. God protect me. I am powerless, let not happen to me.” But no to that. I say, there’s something else. What is it? “If it happens, AS IT MAY for that is not within our powers, I will deal with it, just as I do today with what draws my concern today.” I say this is how we must act. I do those things which seem correct to me today. I trust myself. And if security concerns me, I do that which today I think will make me secure. And every day I do that, when the day arrives that I need a reserve, (a) odds are that I have it, and (b) the true reserve is that I have the strength that I have of acting each day without fear. According to the dictates of my mind. Stocks, bonds, objects of art, friends. Now: What are they? An opportunity. To what? To make money? Perhaps. To lose money? Perhaps. To ‘indulge’ and to ‘learn’ about ourselves? Perhaps. So fucking what? What isn’t? They’re an opportunity. That’s all. They’re an event. You walk up to a guy, he makes a call, something gets done, it doesn’t matter, “There’s this person that I’d like you to meet.” What does it mean? What do you want it to mean? Money? Security? Comfort? All it is is THINGS THAT HAPPEN TO YOU. That’s all it is. How are they different? Some poor, newly married guy gets run down by a cab. Some busboy wins the lottery. All it is, it’s a carnival. What’s special, what draws us? We’re all different. We’re not the same. We are not the same.


It’s been a long week.

Or Kill Me / Attn: Spoiler Alert!!
« on: September 09, 2006, 04:52:47 pm »
We are all going to fail miserably at life and waste away in the ruins of our once lofty ideals.  Then we will die.  All of us.  Dead. Dead. Dead.

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Or Kill Me / Ever wonder...
« on: January 20, 2006, 01:52:58 am »
What Eris tastes like? You know, when I die, I hope Eris will let us all ask one question that she will answer truthfully. When I come up, I’m gonna ask “Eris, what do you taste like?” I’ll bet dollars to nickels she says Strawberries.

You can see it, too. She will either lick herself or just take a big ol’ bite outta her arm, chew for a bit, and say “Huh. I taste delicious.” That’ll prolly be her answer, you know. “I’m delicious.” And if I get a second request, I’d ask “Hey, can I get a bit of that?” And she’d be all “You know, I’m not even sure if that’s blasphemous, but hey, what’s a little arm meat between friends. It’s not like I haven’t had my fair share of eating YOU.” And we’d have this nifty cannibal picnic, laughing, drinking the blood of Fluffly Bunnies (Local winery, don’t’cha know?) and eating each other. I happen to know my soul tastes like chocolate, and she will taste like Strawberries, and those are two great tastes that taste great together.

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