Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Abracadabra

There is no self!

Gone in search of self and found nothing. Searched every angle of our universality and found no self to be found. Always thought all fools who had not found themselves, now I come to know that it was I that was the sooner fool. Know thy self, I think therefore I am, Knowledge is power, come to find that there is no center, no self, no fundamental essence, zephyr! Found an absence of fundamentals, the self, or what we know as the self is merely a hemorrhaging funnel of what we gather through existence. The self can be filled with anything, depravity, vacuum cleaners salesman, church icons, emeralds and Rosemary’s hardened nipples.

There is no self!

Containment, a vessel to selfhood. Here I am: what I have gathered with honor, and with sweat, and with fear. But now I am none of those apparitions; I have no self to find, my search in vain will make me vain. There is no me but for my vanity.

There is no self!

With no genuine self within me to know you intimately, fictional. I am nobody that can get close to you and kiss you and sleep with you and know you as I ought know; I am what I hold in my hand and for that long. I seek to know you because you make me, and not because you are a you.

There is no you!

Creative people tend to disappear because they have the absence of mind to do so. If you can think yourself persistently an engineer your engendered. Creative people have to be open to the impossibility of ephemeral existence. That is what allows the birthing of new ideas, stubborn creativity has to deny the existence of everything to allow for that which is not here now. If something here dies something new will come along. Creativity wants to destroy nonfiction. There is no you.

There is no you!

There are advantages to your nonexistence, the nonexistence of the self, when you die you don’t know that you are dead. Its just not you. Death only hurts those that cling to being. Death despises dogmatism. If you keep your socks off, your heels always cold, death on a leash.
There is no me.

Now that there is no me my brain is larger. It grew last night, I used to be a demon, then I became a sadistic dentist; there were many in between apparitions, but now I am a pig with a large brain. Bigger than my skull, my brain. There is nothing I can not move or change through concentrated mental indifference; even blank blackboards speak to me now, everything is somehow connected to my brain. When your brain exceeds the girth of your skull everything floods within, in; your nullification becomes of exorbitant importance to the universe. I am going to sign my death warrant: There is no self.

The universe sinks into manic depression. It wants me to interrupt the price on my head. The universe knows there is no self. My terrible knowledge propels the universe to promulgate the fumigation of my soul. If you care about yourself you care about the universe because there is no self, discover no self and you have the universe and all of its immense animosity by the balls.

Your being is a magical apparition, something to think about: abracadabra.

The zero is the only number in the universe that was not invented, everything equals it and it squares with everything.

If your heels are cold

RC