|
| and my heart was beating fast...
i'm torn in so many ways about what i should do with my life.
I was born just in time to watch the country fall apart from the inside. It's fascinating but really scary... because it's not just in a book.
I'm caught in a tailspin, unable to work my way out of poverty. I'd like to make more money but I haven't found anything yet.
But at that, what happens when the currency system collapses?
Do I worry too much, at the expense of action?
America is dead, but this is no surprise. Being a state, it was doomed from its inception. We just happen to be living now in the unfortunate time of collapse. Unfortunate in the sense that survival will be difficult. The general public will, at some point in the near future, realize (or admit to themselves) that our entire economic system is indistinguishable from a Ponzi scheme. And then it will all be over.
---
I had a dream where I wanted to show my grandfather my skills at sharpening knives. But when I pulled my whetstone out of my bag, it was shattered into pieces.
---
I want to go back into the land and farm for my living, even if making a living simply means feeding myself. I want to be a hemp farmer. I want to learn about carpentry. I want to learn to hunt with a bow and craft fine bows and knives. I want to learn math and physics and create a generator run by magnets, and then I want to send out the plans on the internet so that anyone can replicate my device. I want the internet to be as free and available and natural as the air we breathe, with no one in charge and no one to charge. I want a cow and a horse and a donkey and some chickens. I want to cook fabulous meals everynight for/with my friends and family.
---
There is some vision. How does one bridge the gap. | | |
| love love love
sorry, sorry
love love love
i'm sorry, i'm sorry,
i love you, i love me,
im so sorry
we're alive, we're okay,
love you love you, love me love me,
please please,
forgive you, forgive me,
don't worry, don't worry,
we are okay, i am okay | | |
| drunk drunk hate me hate me
drunk drunk hate me hate me
why why why?
why do i hate me?
drunk drunk hate me hate me | | |
| I was walking down the road one day when I stumbled across a corn field. Being an inexperienced agriculturalist, and being that my stomach was empty, multiplied by my innate curiosity, I decided to venture into the field.
The first row i came across was the weakest. It faced the road for everyone to see and it obviously was not given the nourishment of the stalks towards the interior of the field. I found no fruit on this row, only stunted corn stalks with no corn to show for them yet.
I ventured yet a few rows further and found a stalk of moderate height, the tassel of which rose to my chest, and near the base of this plant I found a cob which had matured partially. The hair on its head was brown but the outer husk was bright green, and as i cut into it I found a miniature corn cob with firm, pale kernels. The base was firm but the tip was supple and easy to cut through. I sampled a taste of this corn and was disappointed to find that it was not yet ripe. It had a nutty flavor and texture, unlike the creamy, watery texture I am used to.
So I climbed yet deeper into the field until I faced a plant of abnormally large stature, as compared with its brothers and sisters. I found a single ear of ripening corn near the base of this plant, which easily matched my height of just over six feet. As I cut into it, I found every sign of ripeness, except for actual ripeness. I tore away the husk and the tuft of hair at the tip of the husk. I sliced through the top and the bottom and stood in the darkness, beholding something familiar. It was as long as an ear of corn that one would find in a grocery store, but I had just cut it away from a living plant!
But as I bit into it, I found myself yet again, disappointed. The kernels were firm, with the texture and flavor of a coconut. So, I walked home empty-handed, resolving to revisit the field in a week's time, or perhaps two weeks.
What is the moral of this story? It's a parable. Get it? None of the corn is ready, not even the biggest, healthiest ones of the bunch. It will be soon, but I'll have to be patient until then.
---
just a storry written while drunk. goodnite all, <3 brandon
zero edits, take that! hu-yah! i should drink and write more often. | | |
| the suffering in my life which i experience as stress, is the birthing pain of a new reality which is greater than i could possibly imagine. I am here as a catalyst for a new era. | | |
|
