powerless?

peeped in on the world news.

saw fighting in liberia. a small child limping through a doorway. children running through the streets, fleeing gunshots. another child lying in a room with what looked like masking tape covering head wounds. another child lying shirtless, ribs showing through skin stretched taut, struggling for breath.

suddenly i felt a sadness and anger. i should do something. there is so much to do... too much. what can i do?

i've thought about joining the peace corps, i've worked at a nonprofit that supposedly helped developing nations become self-sufficient... but the world isn't run by pacifists and idealism. it is run by guns and political maneuvers, brute force and subtle power games. the united states is the most powerful nation in the world because of its military strength, not this muddled democratic experiment of which "our" president is making a utter mockery.

can i do anything? is there really anything to do?

emergent politics is an awfully cheery concept, but utterly naive... millions can spontaneously protest all over the world, but those in power feel no obligation to listen. that is why i didn't go to washington -- the political landscape is based on majority, not collectivist opinion. voting is the [at least in theory] the mechanism of change, not smart mobs in the streets. but of course, the democratic mechanism has been largely subverted by corporate power and special interests.

why was it that my friends who did protest found themselves constantly referred to as "comrade"?

smart-mob the voting booths, and then things might change. populist uprisings just don't make sense if there is no intent to cause metamorphosis or overthrow of the existing power structure -- if the fat cats stay in office, who cares about protestors?

hm...

<paean to opera7>

opera 7... *shivers*

so much props... about 3megs to download [without java]. it's faster than i.e., slimmer, better gui, better keyboard shortcut support [for those of us who hate mice (the computer kind, that is)]...

... it even got me to write a little javascript after i had sworn off that bizarre addiction to writing code. dammit, i might end up downloading apache and php again, too... and even *gasp* -- perl? i hope i don't start debugging code in my dreams again. that was kinda creepy. cool and very lucid, but creepy.

someone save me, i am suddenly rendered helpless in the face of dormant technolust. well, it's not my computer so i can't go completely apeshit...

and as always, i found a workaround for the opera7 adware: hit 'F11', then maximize the window. no more banner ad. hehe.

</end paean to opera7>

[ + ] serenity rose.  

m u mbles

been on this earth for only twentytwo years and already feel like there's nothing left to do.

quiet desperation is [a quivering, forlorn puppy taking a piss in the corner with its tail between its legs]. loud desperation is [a manic-depressive circus clown with a bullhorn].

maturity is [death looking backward on youth with a rose between its teeth, the vexation of taxation and brainless procreation].

the meaning of life is [to live], and that's [a circular definition]. there's a curly-queue at the edge of that circle, but this appendix is no vestigial organ: [death lies at the end].

what's at the center of a zero? empty space.

i'm not in a rut, and i'm not in a grave... so where the fuck is this place?

read the rhythm.
. . .

[twin hells: intellectual emptiness of definitive reason || chaotic instability of unguided passion]

summer semester ended with two final exams yesterday. I feel restless now, having tortured myself with meditation for only fifteen minutes of wall-gazing in seiza. to no avail, lamentably and obviously; jobless, i am confronted by my aimlessness. no distractions, now, as the computer sits quietly to my right in the small bedroom. outside, and five floors below, someone drives to the interseection nearest this corner of the apartment building, the brainless pounding of anthemic trance music announcing its mechanistic repetitiveness for a brief moment. the light turns green, and the engine grumbles smoothly in competition with driving rhythms as both recede into the distance and quickly return to nothing.

a restless monkey sits perched atop a marble pedestal, tail dangling over the edge. the monkey bares its teeth, smiling a threat with sharp jagged edges. it howls and screams, then becomes quiet. sitting, tail curled around its buttocks and feet, the monkey stares off into the distance. the pain of stillness has internalized its aggressive instincts; mortification of the body through pacification of the senses gives the monkey a false air of reposed introspection. what does it see within its own mind? no thing at all. the tail loses tensile balance and falls, once again dangling over the edge.

i sat restlessly, mind flitting about from breath to sex to disembodied everyday images floating in dreamspace a few feet in front of me. six feet ahead, a three-dimensional cube began to rotate in the air, an object whose visualization replaced the dull ache of legs folded beneath body. the urgency of emptiness confronted me suddenly, not as words but as a raw sensation. muscles clamored for tension, breathing strained at its pace. i held the sensation, consciously relaxing and exhaling evenly. is it objects that i crave? things? or is it the kinship of good company? as i conjured archetypes of both and sat them before me, the mental "object" instance just as quickly faded away, and the "person" instance immediately stood up and walked away into dissipation. all that remains is the observer, and yet the observer [my self] also comes and goes. quantifying, giving shape to my desires, seems not to bring me any closer to fulfilling the contentment that they promise to reveal. then the quality itself must yield the answer. but immediately, having begun the process of comprehending the intensity of feeling itself, i was confronted by the relationship of attachment between quantity and quality. is there only quality in the presence of quantity? is wanting the result of the mind that wants?

but i had forgotten, i realize now, that emotions, impulses, urges, and desires are largely non-rational, unless triggered by rational thought. these urges come and go; reason can sometimes function as a guide, but it can never replace or destroy the passions.

is the creative edge of human chaos defined by the intersection between passions and ideas?

---

okay, no more summer philosophy classes for me...