God is dead

…we killed Him.

espresso vibe
Caspar David Friedrich

In an atheistic and desacralised world, men thinks he has liberated himself from gods. The burden of a transcendental power has been lifted, no worshiping, no faith, no axiomatic truth. All is permitted, as Raskolnikov declared. No other judges other than the faulty and finite mortal judgement. I guess that suffices our unrest for justice.

But then again why do we feel guilty whenever we do wrong even if we convince ourselves it’s okay? One could argue that those are the society’s rules propagated through education by parents, teachers etc and those rules put a moral restrain on our consciousness . But then again, this means that everything is a social construct and, for example, murder (prohibited by the 6th commandment) is fine and one should not feel guilty.  Therefore, if  you can take someone’s life without ever getting caught, no higher authority can chastise you.

Do yo’ thang honey.

But paradoxically,  the human nature in its quest for freedom, enslaved itself with terranial stuff. Shifting from an all powerful entity, people needed intrinsically to adore something and to prosternate. Therefore we made idols from whatever we could find: booze, cigarettes, celebrities, sex, drugs so on and so forth. Idolizing the perishable instead of the perennial.

It’s all fun and games until you suffer and you feel your fucking heart being ripped out of your chest, when you wake up and there’s nothing worth living for and pounds of concrete hold your mind and body.  Craving pleasure, after pleasure but you can never fulfill this urge, because you’re looking for it in all the wrong places. All followed shortly like a counterpoint by suffering. The more intense the lust the more profound the pain.

But who gives a shit about that, at least we’re content, right? We must be if we consciously made that translation.  We must be if this brings harmony to our lives. After all we have a meaning in life, right?

In this cultural-Marxist era we consume our teen years for fickle hedonism, not being aware of sacrificing sometimes a virtual virtuous lifetime.

Be

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Thought of the day #4

Have you ever been on the street or in a public place, listening to a song and you just wanna burst out dancing? If so, you are pretty weird. I like you.

This is my daily struggle, the seed of my suffering, the moon to my stars, the bad espresso to my day the… Well you get the idea.
Its like tourette syndrome but with body movements. Well, I guess I’m ok.
But really though, life would be a better place with people dancing around. I mean not like dionysiac bacchae, more like apolinic-calliopeish kinda dance, if there would have been one.

Ill leave you with the wise words of my tormented friend Frederich Nietzsche :

Unless you’re schizophrenic, that’s not romantic.

Thought of the day #3

 

Everywhere, well not in the bathroom, there’s this echo lingering “Be yourself”.  Everyone hears it at some point or another but they go on with their lives.  It has become so trivialized that it lost its meaning.

Who the fuck am I actually? Am I who I am at this present time or the virtuality of a future me? I have no idea.

Nowadays everyone is a special snowflake. The previous idiom is so subliminally engraved in their unconscious that there’s no doubting of its veracity.  They’re all unique and wonderful. Nobody is like them. At least that’s what they think.

Oh but I’m not thinking like them. Oh yes, yes you are, you all have that mentality, just look around and start questioning things

I’m doing my own thing in life  No, no you’re not, you’re following a pre-defined societal pattern. What specifically are you revolting against?

It’s not like that, I’m not doing what they do. Really, though? Just because it’s on a smaller scale it doesn’t deny its occurrence.  Isn’t somewhere in there some cognitive dissonance?

Bah, but then again, who really cares if they think they are the counterculture when in fact they represent the system, right?

Be

Thought of the day #2

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René Magritte

Friendships are tough and if you do have a beautiful one, don’t take it for granted. I know we are all faulty in our own ways, self-absorbed, looking often for an individual outcome out of a relationship. People fake their way into a friendship, consciously or subconsciously, in search of social status, material stuff, emotional trash, information and so on. We’re not driven by sacrifice and love anymore.

What good is that for? If everyone’s hands are dirty, why mine should be clean? People stopped giving more than they receive. And I’m not taking about superficial things. We all want something in return, as fast as possible and this egocentric expectation fucks up the whole thing. We respond to problems in regards to our fellow friends with a talionic punishment. If someone yells at us, we yell harder, if someone says harsh words we make sure ours are more hurtful. If they do wrong to us we, of course, we raise the bar. And most of the time, we are the only reprehensible entities, because it’s only our perception of a certain thing and not the real intention of that person. The tape is playing in our head. Over and over.

And mind you, there’s a fine difference between kindness and gullibility. Don’t let the fear of loneliness keep you trapped with people that vampirize you, ’cause you’ll be the only one culpable. If you can’t handle being alone then you’ve gotta work on yourself first. Struggle to be the best soul you would like to spend time with and then others will crave your vibes. (Off topic- I’m fascinated with humans that are paradoxical, the appearance doesn’t match the essence, but in a alluring way. How you can find in them peculiar talents, intriguing ideas and interests. So cultivate your inner world and make it magnetic.)

Choose wisely your confidants, because You are the average of the five people you most associate with.

Be

Thought of the day #1

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By Raluca Lungu

Why is it more appealing to say you’re a philanthropist ( cf. Thefreedictionarysomeone who makes charitable donations intended to increase human well-being) than a good man? Seeing a bio in which was stated that noun triggered me, but not in a social justice warrior way haha. Why would you describe yourself like that?

Does this designation gratify someone’s ego because it implies their wealth? Maybe. Not that I’m minimizing the importance of such an act, but when one gives from their colossal abundance a drop only for notoriety, is that moral? Because you only know who philanthropists are because they want you to know them. Otherwise they’ll be just good man known maybe by their family or close friends. Whenever a good deed is wanted to be acclaimed by other’s appreciation, the ego comes in and infects all of it. That is vicious. Some will say : Ugh, fuck off, why does it count if that person helps by donating capital? Well, judging like this I think we’re victims of a sophism. Should’t we also care about the decadence of character? Should’t we preserve it? What if all people would act this way, egotistically, but gilded in altruism?

It looks a lot like the antipode of the end justifies the means, where the end is the self-pride. Therefore, the intention is more valuable than the ostentatious grandeur of the gesture.

But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. – Matthew 6:3

So let us be good people, nicer than necessary, giving more than we receive, as cringy as that sounds. To make known our humanitarianism only if it is paramount, so that it could directly guide people to follow our example. We can’t all be philanthropists, but we can all be righteous mortals.

Ergo, go with a genuine heart and make someone happy today .
Be

Fall(ing)

Fall(ing)

It was November – month of parting birds, rusty carpets, winter scented air and wandering minds. She  lost her shadow between the pines and her thoughts along the way. Fire and gold all around, in the trees, on the ground, in the skies. She let her hazel hair down, shook it and closed her eyes taking a deep breath. Seventeen with so many ideals and insecurities. Stream of feelings rushing every minute through her little heart.

How can you feel so much and express so little? She wiped her nose.

And I dream too much, and I don’t write enough and I’m trying to find God everywhere.

The alley was gloomy and quiet.

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 If feels like I’m in a music video. I might as well look particularly melancholic and pretend I’m being filmed. Ugh, I’m so autistic sometimes.

What do you do when you feel you don’t belong somewhere? Not in a cliché way, but literally everything feels deeply uncomfortable. Like when you want to fall asleep and you can’t so you change sides constantly.

Renascentist and byzantine art gives one belonging because it’s center is not here. Is outside. Those beautifully crafted paintings are the artist’s struggle to find peace outside this world of suffering. To find a home. That is the material process, the art, the mean, but not the ultimate goal. Maybe home is a state of being within oneself.

We put our joy often in people and places, little do we know that those are temporary. Friends, family, lovers can break our trust, hurt us, leave us. That’s a pretty fucking heavy burden for them to carry and they didn’t even signed up for it. All that will remain of you will be the bits and pieces of a house built on quicksand.

Places are subject to change constantly, that little house next to that river is not there anymore, demographics shift and so does the vibes and mentality. Therefore, any attempt to insert feelings into impermanent things so that subsequently you’ll vampirize, is futile and miserable. And this includes you too. You’re perishable. So an aprioric and immutable force to fuel our content seems like a good idea I guess.

Ugh, yeah easier said than done.

The leaves under her feet cracked gently under her pressure, noise intertwining with the silence of the crisp drowsy nature. Suddenly the light of the bus pierced through the fog acting like an interlude in her thought process. It was leaving without her.

Damn! she shouted running in its direction. The moist soil sprinkled with pebbles launched her into an icaric fall  from the peaks of comical existential philosophy onto the solid ground. The poorly illuminated alley didn’t help either.

The car disappeared from her sight. It was gone. Covered in dirt, she looked like little Cosette, but with too many metaphysical thoughts.

Fuuuuuuuck, fuck fuckkkkkkkkkery!!! Aaah! The echo followed shortly. One can only imagine the scream of a raging teenage girl.

Maybe the worst thing is not losing your bus, but your mind.  A guy’s voice laughed from behind.

Do you often cover yourself in mud?

She spinned angrily towards him about to unleash her fury, but his look neutralized her.

– I just like to connect with the earth. What’s your problem, Mr Sarcasm?

– I would’ve helped you, but now I don’t want to disrupt your meditation.

– I’ve just finished it, thanks. Instead of looking stupid at me you could help me get up.  He reached his hands and picked her up. What are  you doing here anyway? You just enjoy watching girls fall?

– Yeah, and then pick them up. Pun not intended.

– Very funny, she grinned, but she was laughing inside. So what are you doing here alone?

– Searching the meaning of life, he responded ironically.

– Then you’ve found it.  I’m Zoe, which means…

– …life in greek, he interrupted her. What the heck, this is freaking me out.

After an awkward silence he stutterd for a second:

– W-would you like to go for a coffee?

Her eyes lit up, um, yeah, sure, I’m cold and dusty plus I really, really have a passion for coffee.

He smirked relieved and they started walking towards the shops. She suddenly stopped.

– Wait.

-What?

-Please don’t tell me your name means coffee.

 large (2)Be

 

Insomnia

Click.

He exhaled the white smoke into the cold night starring at its evanescence. No, not once he questioned or given much thought at his way of life. The axiological meaning… the principles, virtues, faults.

Why the fuck bother? he muttered under his breath as he put out the cigarette. The black sea above was on fire and silence was the only noise.

I saw him always living out of inertia, as dictated by the society: do this and that to be happy and have friends. Humans are so exquisitely well programmed that they don’t even oppose resistance, thinking it’s the standard pattern. Are you that fundamentalist and obtuse to not conform?

Social acceptance seems to be subliminally imprinted in his mind. The drinking, the partying, the drugs, the sex, yeah, they felt so good in the moment… However, the lingering effects were inversely proportional. Falling off a high point simulacrum into the deepest crevasse. Total emptiness, only filled by some minutes spent in front of a screen watching porn and lying to himself he’s Ok.  He started feeling defined by those moments, and he was right. They say you’re the sum of all the decisions you make. Indeed. If you’re stagnant in the project.

He walked into his room, took his shirt off and crashed on the bed, pulling his phone out of the pocket to scroll some more.

wtf. another bombing.

Where are they? Seems they’re having a lot of fun.

what is he doing, that’s retarded 

That’s a really cool car.

haha so funny

that pasta looks so tasty

Omg she’s so fucking hot

lol did she gain weight?

His hand went numb from holding it up, he shook it and ran it through his hair. He sighted and turned facing the window.

 

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Is this all there is to life?

Work, stress, some holidays, basic friends, insignificant and unfulfilling goals, mere responsibilities , maybe a wife he’ll cheat on because that’s normalized, and kids he’ll spend time with in the weekends.

His mom told him that this world is not the real one. That a transcendental being does exist and He is who He is, and that He is love. The Beauty and the Good. Plato, pretty epic guy intuited that. By contemplation of the nature, the infinite condensed in finite forms. I saw that, trust me. But those were just empty words to him. Hollow. Like the shadow of a tree on a sidewalk.

Now, angst cripples in and takes the best of him. But that’s common, right? To feel the existential burden and to suffer the strings and arrows of outrageous fortune. To feel like no one can understand you and that suffering is unshareable. But people cannot take away the pain of others, because we’re mere mortals. Maybe it will ease the misery temporarily, but how often can you complain and to whom? Humans…they found a solution. Memes are a satisfiable momentarily antidote. He has a whole folder with them. Laughing out of sadness, but until when?

Do I even have a God damn purpose?

Without a higher moral bar to reach to, everything is dust and ashes. You cling to shit that seem important in a place in time, but things change, emotions and feelings shift like a Rubik’s cube. How will you not crash under your mundane choices? One needs something immutable, perennial, the epitome of good. Because if not, we’re just a bunch of animals struggling for survival. No responsibility. Nothing. Void. Is this how they like to live? Deculpabilising by mentally destroying any kind of intelligible force seems like a good way to go. Too bad they have a conscience.

The athlete needs to train daily to win the golden medal. Blood, sweat and tears. Victory is not given to the mediocre, to the one crying that he could not perform, to the one denying the competition and the judges because he did not see them yet.

Even If He does not exist, what He has given to humanity is a set of laws to live by and an atemporal archetype to imitate. Things experimentally proven to make living worth and bearable. This does not subjugate the man, it elevates him to another dimension.  It is by no means a modern anthropocentric concept, but a theocentric one. Man is bound spatiotemporally, but the deity is transcendent, therefore only by keeping in touch with it, we break the laws of physics.

He started yawning and rubbing his eyes.

Tomorrow is another day. I’ll have my coffee and my breakfast and I’ll be good. Damn fuck my thoughts, I’m so tired. He laughed softly and slowly his eyes started to close.

 

Robert De Niro Mimes a Shot to His Head in Taxi Driver

 

The next day the sun will still shine, night thoughts will be washed away and the routine continues. Who has time to contemplate weird spiritual shit. Sadness mostly comes out at night, and they still have the day.  Though, the sleep of reason produces monsters.

But after all, they come from monkeys or to be politically correct ape-like ancestors, right?

 

Be