jiu ztern.

it baffles us, yes it does. that it took three men to drive a stick shift along a three-mile road home, or about five kilometers if we worshiped the merciful metric system. that it took three years to figure out that the square root of compassion is still greater than a comfy bean bag up on the third floor of a medieval mansion. that it took three blind mice to scare the hell out of you. so now come down and sit tight, as i would only speak once, “one thing is for sure, in the graveyard, i’ll have the shiniest pair of shoes”.

now as far as i could hope, today our ride should go round in circles. again, and again, and again.

BLAH.

oh so, oh so.

in a nutshell, after disappearing down a virtual cul-de-sac for 10 years or so, men have rediscovered their humanity and started living for the moment again. it’s hard to connect with people in a conversation, never mind write a song that they enjoy, or tell a joke that they think is funny. people don’t make up their own jokes. they tell jokes that other people tell them, once the joke has proven itself, because other people laughed at it. it’s different for me to make one up that you’ll laugh at… i thought of a joke about that today, what’s black and white and red all over?

men just want to eat their desserts first.

BLAH.

charles foster kane.

there is a man, a certain man, and for the poor you may be sure that he’ll do all he can. who is this one? whose favourite son? just by his action has the traction magnets on the run. who likes to smoke, enjoys a joke, and wouldn’t get a bit upset if he were really broke. with wealth and fame he’s still the same. i’ll bet you five you’re not alive if you don’t know his name.

what is his name? its charlie kane. it’s mister kane. but he doesn’t like that mister, he likes good old charlie kane.

who says a miss was made to kiss? and when he meets one always tries to do exactly this? who buys the food? who buys the drinks? who thinks that dough was made to spend and acts the way he thinks?

now is it joe? no, no, no, no! i’ll bet you ten you aren’t a man if you don’t really know.

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you buy a bag of peanuts in this town, you get a song written about you

BLAH.

space.

space: the final frontier. these are the voyages of the starship enterprise. its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.

space, so there you go.

BLAH.

sola fide.

The parable of the Garden which the righteous are promised! Beneath it flow rivers. Perpetual is the fruits thereof and the shade therein. Such is the End of the Righteous; and the end of the unbelievers is the Fire.

men primarily describe heaven in physical terms as a place where every wish is immediately fulfilled when asked. that those who dwell in heaven would wear costly apparel, partake in exquisite banquets, and recline on couches inlaid with gold or precious stones. in joy, without negative emotions. that the lowest level of heaven is a hundred times better than the greatest life on earth.

i am not wishing to be sent to hell, but if heaven is as what we believe as now, sliding smoothly day by day, without worries, without temptations, without flaws, what would be the point of being human?

BLAH.

forward: the revolution as a mechanism.

this is no writing of mine. this may be the first time i am proud to kneel down and in-the-name-of-God fully admit the superiority of another human being, without any exception. so on behalf of my intrapersonal security and senseless pride, i present to you the revolution as a mechanism by adam maher.

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The people will realize at some point in their lives that there was something stolen from them. Something important, something sincere, something decisive has been usurped from us.

To revolt against a rotten mass culture. To revolt against the mass media which encourages us to become isolated mechanisms, trapped within walls of consumption.

To consume, consumption itself.

The revolution is not an idea in the distant past or the near future. The revolution is not a metaphor for self-understanding. The revolution is the ability of the masses to break out of their bondage. The ability of the people to put their petty financial worries aside for once and for all.

The debt cycle will never end, until we break it. The credit system will never stop its parasitic attack on humanity until we refuse the monetary definition of human actions.

The revolution is a mechanism, indeed, but we must always remember that it is a mechanism aimed at destroying all mechanisms. A mechanism which allows the people for once and for all to rise above their brutal realities, to say: No, I will not be a financial slave. No, I will not be an automaton generated by the education system. No, I will not be a corporate stooge. No, I will not be a memory of a humanity that has long been killed by the avarice of capital and the coldness of state machinery.

—————

BLAH.

hilly billy hedgehog.

hilly billy hedgehog, prickles and spikes.. these are the things that a hedgehog likes: a bowl of water and a slice of bread, a nice warm place to rest his head. when the summer’s over and the leaves begin to fall, hilly billy hedgehog curls up in a ball.

“bye-bye hilly! see you next spring.” that is when his alarm clock rings.

cold cold night.

an old man by the name of jeremy jenkins once said something to me, an uninterpreted saying that fills up my mind until this very day. that to think about it, if men were courageous enough to be honest, we would all come to the conclusion that deep inside we are all longing for an imperfect world.  that it would be better to live in a crippled world, with a corrupt bureaucracy, with people who have dark pasts to bear with. simply because if the world  was so perfect, if it had no room of improvement, we would all be insignificant beings. that there would be no chance for us to step up and attempt to become superheroes who could save the world. that if the world was so perfect, martin luther king would be another working-class negro. that if the world was so perfect, presidents and leaders would be no other than men doing their jobs. that if the world was so perfect, please don’t take this the wrong way, the concept of God would merely have no difference with the concept of mystical creatures, as unicorns and the loch-ness monster.

well people who have those thoughts in their minds may be considered as hypocrites and egoistic beings by others. but we are human, and having that feeling is as human as we can be.

BLAH.

all of the walls that they built in the seventies, they finally fall.

the dreams we had as a kid are so quickly forced through the meat grinder of life, as they began to fade, and even back then we were already bored. this may be the logical conclusion of realized expectation. and today while only a remnant of those feelings exist, we find ourselves moving past them again. as we drive directly on the inability to commit to any concept of family before reaching the age of forty, a paternal instinct that seems to have been quashed by an unending quest for the continuance of the laid-back responsibility-free ethos of this generation. we only realize it when we look introspectively, and it baffles us. because we know before long those feelings and dreams will be gone.

so now, i’ve come to realize how incredibly hot pavement can become in the broad mid-day sun and suggest to move on to the cool, cool grass.

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inspired and brutally ripped off from the song the suburbs by arcade fire.

BLAH. or for today… NAMASTE.

three cheers for those who still have the courage to speak.

now the whole world had one language and a common speech.  as men moved eastward, they found a plain in shinar and settled there. they said to each other, “come, let’s make bricks and bake them thoroughly”. they used brick instead of stone, and tar for mortar. then they said, “come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth”. but the Lord came down to see the city and the tower that the men were building. the Lord said, “if as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other”. so the Lord scattered them from there over all the earth, and they stopped building the city. that is why it was called babel – because there the Lord confused the language of the whole world. from there the Lord scattered them over the face of the whole earth.

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so, who said jeremy jenkins was no longer alive? he may be dead, but not in the definition we all stumble to agree upon. he is dead in the definition we unconsciously agree upon. therefore, it is nothing special, because by that particular definition, we are all dead.

BLAH.

*from the verses of babel