wiseman

wiseman

Wiseman closed his mouth
Madman closed his fist
Young man shows his age
Judge man named it sin
Bad man don' exist, no, no
Evil man exists
Good man don't exist, no, no
Righteous man exists
Sad man cannot cry in place where man can see
Never witnessed father weep
This old man thought it weak
But strong man don't exist, no, no
Undying man exists
Weak man don't exist, no
Just flesh and blood exists

But your mother would be proud of you
I bet your mother would be proud of you

novacane

novacane

numb me
so i cant feel the pain
i'm just flesh and blood
and my bones are brittle
my hands are shaking
and the sweat falls off the side of my face like beads of mourning rain
the chains are locked and loaded
and crack
the bullet and the spine snap
and my eyes hang low like the bible by the nightstand

*                        *                        *

the dilemma of experience is faulted.
there are somethings that lead to no good
really stupid shit leads to no good but pain regret and contaminated people and futures
flap like dead fish flap around fuck around and get exactly what stupidity deserves

nature and nurture. some people, by nature are emotionally weak and feeble creatures.
they are easily fucked over by their enironment. despite how good they may be, people are a product of their environment, and no one give a fuck how good you are when the things you and your friends do deserves no respect
no one give a fuck and no one give the respect, that ya dont even deserve

sucka motherfuckas fuckem motherfuckas

im feelin numb to it but the hate still rings in my ear like an aftershock of a rifle shot to the face

yah man look around for fun and emotional attachment and become numb to it later.
the aftershock of stupidity and weakness

is there a point of stating something really obvious? i could play ignorance and just smile
just be numb like the anesthetic that the desntist gives before he hammers your face with a chisel.
theres a dog and theres a tail and it just picks up dirt from the stupid places it walks and then i pet it and then i get dirty and my head hurts and i want to cut off the tail but i cant because the tail is flesh and blood of the dog. stupid dog.

weak people stupid people damaged people sad people bullet to your head fuck people

the dilemma of experiences

the dilemma of experiences

It's a widely regarded, and often trite expression that experience is the heart of all growth. In order to grow, one needs experiences and whereas good experiences are a decent teacher, bad experiences are much better. Experiences are almost entirely retrospective in the way that they work, and despite the emotional currents that may run through during the experience, they fade away in the wake of looking back. And that's how people learn, upon realizing and admitting mistakes or things that should've been a certain way, they shape their future decisions upon the mistakes and regrets of the past to not repeat them. If not, then there is no growth, and like the prevailing notion of the past: history repeats itself.

Well, fuck, I guess that summarizes it. There is no dilemma. I had originally thought that the dilemma was that experiences also act as a contaminant for future ones, but I guess it's not exactly the case. Well, there are exceptions, and there are gray shades, but for the most part, yeah. I doubt a prostitute will find a comforting relationship because problems and insecurities sometimes grow to a point of no return, but for the less damaged person, the paragraph above stands true.

Growth is illusory because of our human faults, but what is just required is some wisdom to know that bad things happen and we all make mistakes, and the humility to realize the mistakes. So this isn't a post relaying the thought that we should go and make mistakes and fuck around to "learn", because that's a faulted mindset. When in that mindset, growth is nearly impossible because growth requires a humble mindset, to know that experience can be bigger than the person.

EDIT THERE ARE MANY EXCEPTIONS TO THIS

conversation.

conversation.

Sometimes, I want to be alone.
I am a sinner, who's probably gonna sin again.
Lord, forgive me.
Lord forgive me.
Things I don't understand.

antirant

antirant

I've really been considering writing a really long rant about all the things I hate in life, because those seem to be the dominant things on my mind these days, but I've had a change of heart. I'm generally a negative person, and despite being weird sometimes, I am for the most part, very reserved and pensive. I often go into looms of depression and go through phases of cowardice and self-consuming wrath. Often times, the issues range from very small things to things that span over periods of time. Most of these problems come from problems that I lack control in and am not able to change. Things like that frustrate me to no end. I have a hideous latch on controlling things, even those that cannot be changed, like the past and the future. What results is not very pretty and hurts my head and emotional state to no end. I could go on and on about certain problems I have because of this and being the perfectionist that I am. And even after this, I continue to destroy myself by going into states of self loathing where nothing can reach me and I just burn up inside. Aside from small glimpses of momentary smiles, much of my private and inner life is filled with reasonless anguish and pain. Often, I wish I could just retire from life take myself out of this game because I am a coward and unable to come to terms with things I cannot change, or are too big of a challenge to tackle. I have two problems that hinder myself even more: I cannot start things, and I cannot finish things. When things get started they are usually left unfinished because my interest in them wanes in a month. And I cannot start things which seem to big to handle because I cannot handle failure or dismissal.

Ever since I was a child, I had always been quiet because when I spoke I would either be ignored because of my reserved nature, or dismissed because my opinion wouldn't hold ground for plebs because in elementary school, loud voices are what seems to rule the crowd. So most of the time, I would not speak at all. I would rarely say hi first or greet people first because of those fears. Even though talking and expressing myself became easier than it used to be,  those fears are still ingrained into my personality. I absolutely hate being dismissed or ignored, and thus I react in very strange ways to combat this internal battle. When I feel the feelings coming, I scramble to avoid it or to run away from it. And consequently, I've found music, where I can express myself without the fear of being dismissed or ignored, because with practice, skill will speak louder than my voice.

I've always had the thoughts, "I have to change this" or "this has to change," in order to structure the way things work perfectly. And despite this, I still favor the unstructured to the structured which doesn't make too much sense. Finding things about myself and acceding in those respects, but having deeply ingrained personality flaws have consequently made me something of a contrarian. Nothing I do really adheres to the thoughts I have and my personality radically changes depending on my mood or people around me. As one person once said about me, I have no middle ground. When close, there is no middle ground.

And yet. I don't know, I've just had a change of thought. I've been blessed to meet people, and it's a comforting feeling I have forgot. Really, not too sure yet, but I hope it can grow in that respect. Kind people really have an impact. And this time, it's not based off drinking or social bullshit, but rather on God and fellowship. And I suppose it makes me look forward to different days. Honestly, I don't know what exactly I am feeling, but I earnestly hope that I can make something positive out of it. Feelings like this are hard to describe, and I do not want to make anything definitive, because honestly, I don't know. I needed people to talk, I needed role models, and people to look up to. I haven't had much of that in my life. I was never close to older people around me, and I literally did everything myself. Much of my life, I suppose I felt alone in the respect that I didn't have people to look up to or follow. And treading on your own path can become really stressful and tiresome.

Although I know that my path is mine and mine alone, it is a comforting thought to know that people will be down for you, and got your back. And the control. I know it's right to give my control to God, but sometimes I want it so badly, I can't match those two points up. Whatever, I'm writing this too fast and without thought, but I think that maybe I don't have to only rely on myself. Maybe I can trust others and maybe I can make new friends. Maybe I need to make new friends, but more so, maybe I need to find the right friends. Ever since high school ended, that friendship has been more or less lost to me. That loyalty and communion. So I suppose, in that respect that's why I avoid school. One, because I don't like it, but also because I can't see the friendships as genuine as they should be.

If it's not genuine, it's not me. If it's not me, I can't do it.

Well, yeah. Umm, I honestly donno where I'm going with this shit, but fuck it I'mma be more positive, driven and disciplined. the fuck is i doin with my life till now man gotta stop being a bitch and feeling sorry for myself

#hashtag

#hashtag

//mind is clouded //heart is heavy //head is insecure
#firstworldproblems #depression #stupidhead

how i am

how i am

How are you?
I'm fine.

Maybe I am fine at the time, but really, how am I? It's been a long time since I've been asked that question and I actually felt compelled to answer. Most of the time, it just felt unnecessary to answer. Why bother other people with my issues? I hate doing that. Like, what's the point if the other party understands? Do I care? More importantly, do you care? Does this solve anything? No, no, no, no, no. But you, deep inside, those are my personality defects talking. I'm sure I know better beneath all that thickened layer of shit, but no, I won't admit it, and I won't ask for help and I won't say what I actually want to say.

Anyhow, how am I?

Well, it's been kind of a rough internal road these days. There are just issues under issues under issues, all wrapped nicely with this pseudo smile that I sometimes let fall under emotional pressure. It's a mix between dealing with other people's stupid actions or my own stupid thoughts. It's a mix between trying to rationalize my inner self with the outside reality and trying to get other people to understand my heart. And it frustrates me to even get myself to speak of these things, because I don't feel comfortable with many people to be honest. I don't like people getting too close to me, because then they can see my flaws, which I try to hide (and do a pretty decent job hiding). I mean, once I get other that stump, I'm fine, but to get that to point is a challenge.

So I said there's two main points right? Well, for the first part: dealing with other people's stupidity. Well, fuck, why even care? To be honest, for the most part, I don't. I could give a fuck less, but you know, there are exceptions. "Look, THIS here is what you are doing wrong. FIX IT." People don't exactly work like that. "No that's not an issue, no I'm doing this, well you do this, but this, but that." This is the usual response. And sometimes it makes sense, but you know what, everything makes sense. According to the human mind, there are no rights and wrongs. There are only kinda wrongs, but okays, and well not really, but yeahs. So how do I deal with it? I don't fuckin know. If I had an answer to this, I guess it wouldn't be an issue now, would it?

My own stupid thoughts? Well, golly that's an understatement. Sometimes, my head puts things in a certain way, and I can't see things in any other light. No, I don't care to explain what those 'things' are, not here anyway. This is like that, that's why it's fucked up, but there's nothing I can do about it, so what do I do? I feel helpless when I can't do anything. Like an ant. I've been told growing up that we can do what we want when we put our mind to it. Well there's certain things you can't do.
1. You can't turn back the past. You can't change things that happened, and you can't go back and do things you would have done/
2. You can't make people smarter. You can't change people. People gotta learn for themselves to really change. And to get caught in the middle of that and feel the helplessness is truly torment.

So stupid decisions and stupid people at stupid times. I suppose that's one way to put it. I don't like not being able to change things. I don't like when people fall into peer pressure because they don't the courage to say no, and I the people initiating the peer pressure could burn in hell for a cool minute. I don't like stupid things, I don't like stupid thoughts and I sure as hell hate stupid decisions.

And I hate being helpless. I hate falling into my emotions and being stubborn.

Tell me my flaws, maybe then I'll learn. Yeah? Nobody really fuckin does, I gotta do this shit always by myself. And I guess that's just the way it's been, doing things by myself because I've learned that people are unreliable. PEOPLE ARE UNRELIABLE AND HAVE THEIR OWN LIVES TO LIVE. In addition, I don't want to listen to flawed people. I see the flaws above their own advice and I don't want to listen ESPECIALLY if the other people don't listen. And to be honest, who really listens these days? LIfe is like this, why are you doing this, why don't you brighten up, you're pretty stagnant these days, you shouldnt do that, you should do this, you should do this and that and this and that. NOBODY LISTENS?? Why even talk? That's right, I've stopped trying.

Sometimes I forget that I'm a learning human being too. I think other people do too. I'm always pointing out flaws and shit that I can't even see my own, and I'm so caught up in myself that I have these little cop out statements that I say: too much pride, be humble, too arrogant  not warm. But does that MEAN ANYTHING?? It means jack shit to me, because I already know it. I'm trying to figure out the roots of the problems. You can't root a plant by tugging at it's leaves. And I can only go so far in trying to figure out my flaws. In the heat of the situation I close myself off entirely. I don't like being reach after, even though I need it. No, I take that back, I like being reach after, but I don't ever go and ask for help. I don't want it, rather just die in my pit of self-loathing than to go humble myself to ask for help.

And you know what's funny? That's a flaw right? But I don't KNOW anything about it. I just know it exists. I don't know why this or why that, I just know that. Because my thoughts are flawed, and I recognize that, but what can I do about it when I can't think any other way? Not too sure, not too sure..

You know, sometimes I think that I really need someone to go and talk to when my insecurities rise. And truth be told it's true and I recognize it. But then again, people are unreliable. Talk is cheap. PEOPLE LIE, and PEOPLE OPINIONS ARE LIKE THE WIND. Because we say one thing and do another. The consequences are so far away, things just don't seem like they matter.

And career path??? CAREER PATH?? Don't even get me started because I know I sound like a broken record. Maybe I am a broken record. Self pity is disgusting.

Man, people just annoy me these days, and I just don't have the energy to do things about whatever things left in the dust when nothing really left but things that dont matter stringed nothing care to do but why i dont know the things just sometimes drown in myself and i drown and drown and drown and i want something but i dont want to admit it and i dont.

Under the assumption that you read all of the above, here it is: I just want to be understood, inside and out. Why and how, and however. And I'm sure there's more too it, but that's what I'm compelled to say.

yessir

yessir

we just some flawed human beings tryin to do our best at communicating and understanding. when you give up the effort to communicate and understand, hah, then you're just a flawed human being, yessir.

composition10

composition10

It doesn't matter how talented or skilled you are. If you're outdated, you're outdated. You were just born in the wrong time period; consequently, this means you won't get the recognition you may or not deserve. Styles are constantly changing, and the demand for a constant freshness is always apparent. I think this is a common sense that seems to be overshadowed a lot. Fresh melodies and beats are much needed. Music really is a difficult game to play. RIP Dave Brubeck, you did a lot for jazz.


fuck the guitar lol

inability?

inability?

I am throughly confused. I am unable to visit the sites I usually visit when wasting time and yet also unable to focus on the things I am supposed to do. When I try to sleep, depressing dark thoughts pervade my head and I am unable to sleep. Where is this inability coming from? I feel absolutely useless and unable to do anything and I do not know why.

barely relevant title.

barely relevant title.

Unknowingly, I have blocked myself from every website that wastes time except blogspot. Something like this would probably be better in a place like tumblr where I dump really stupid things without thinking, but for now, blogger is my only friend. Look as I demonstrate the anatomy of a post.

I like to start really dumb posts with some sort of disclaimer, to somehow hide my vapid insecurities and deep rooted terrible affliction. So there it is. And then afterwards, I like to write something really convoluted and heavy, like a dying elephant. A breathing hunk of mass that can't really be deciphered, but lying there as if it's supposed to. I guess I don't like to be obvious in these sort of things, of their exact nature, so I like to write as 'bullshit' as possible.

Okay, so where to start? I tried to sleep early today, but inevitably failed because I drank too much caffeine  It's night like these which are really kind of bittersweet. It's a bit reminiscent of the past, when I really was a stupid and more careful human being. But as time goes on, people intercept and we become better, a bit less pure and more emotionally stable. I suppose that's what happened to me. And in the midst of all this writing, look it's a poem (that seems terribly irrelevant, but in some strange and convoluted way, is relevant) that lodged itself within my writing:

rainy nights and cigarettes seem to go awfully well with each other
the ashes and the leftovers i keep coughing them up
as if all i can do is keep breathing, cant really swallow the ashes
its suffocating and i wonder if it will go away

Okay, so that wasn't really a poem, but I think it was convoluted enough. And here's an ending statement that reaffirms my (not-true) levelheadedness: I need to clear my head. And a followup that seems irrelevant, but is ultimately is (only to me): Of the implications. I guess it would look like this in a real post:

blahblahblah. I need to clear my head. Of the implications.

Lookit that. Two fragmented sentences on purpose. Wow, absolutely wonderful, was a great and emotional writer, I totally understand my sentiments.

Ultimately, this post had about fifety percent of the sentiment I originally wanted to put in (but obviously didn't because I didn't want to be too vulnerable). And watch this stinger: take it with a grain of salt. That way I don't really have to stand up for my words, I am blameless for my bullshit. But really, I need something like that.

WHY CAN'T I PUT IN A PICTURE?? UGH I PUT IT IN LATER

ps. I do not want to learn how to forgive. I don't wan't to but deep inside I know I must, does that make sense. I want to yell at the top of a mountain and hope my problems run away with my voice.

it sounds so nice when bright voices sing dark songs. i like that

my vision: 808 drums with electric synths and light voices with the RnB butter without the insincere hipster bullshit.

MUST RECUPERATE OR ELSE I WILL EXPLODE HELP

afflictions and shit

afflictions and shit

Why do I have problems? Flaws, inconsistencies, foolishness and bullshit. If I recognize flaws and sin, I should want to get away from them as fast as possible right? No, shit don't really work that way. For some reason, I'm driven to my sin. It's like my mind has some sort of compass that always pushes it to some sadness, anger, or other terrible affliction. This is truly some senseless shit. Saddening, saddening, senseless bullshit. If it's hard to deal with myself, then how will other people close to me deal with me? iono, fuck. It's as if the human mind is unable to fully hate it's flaws, and I'm drawn to them everyday at some point in time where I just want to do terrible things to people and cause anguish and pain. Know why? It's cause you can't ever take back anguish and pain. Once it's afflicted, it leaves a scar, a memory that will never go away. And if I can't make that go away, then I'll give them the same, like karma and hope that the pain will burn just like the others. Bullshit people with their bullshit sayings and shit. Bullshit people really deserve pain and suffering. If you're not helping people or surpassing those before you, burn. Fuck your self centered happiness and bullshit, really fucking burn. It's really a rare occasion when I want people to burn in hell, because it's terrible in every respect, but fuck, those words are so tempting sometimes.

It's just one of those things I can't really get rid of. As much as I hate this feeling, I can't let go of it, because it's much easier to let hate run free than to absolve it with forgiveness. And sometimes, I'm too much of a prideful bitch to do it. iono man, it's such foolishness. Human brain bedridden with foolishness, unable to repair itself.

sins:
wrath
pride
lust
sloth
envy

One thing leads to another, and snowballs into something terrible. A little indulgence feels okay, and then it just spirals down and down. The more I think about it, the bigger the problem grows and grows. My head feels like it's spinning and I can't get shit done. Depressing and convoluted post. Gotta deal with it or else I'm just gonna end up hurting myself or the people around me.

ps. nobody give a fuck about being second. being best at being second is still fucking second. ugh fuck it i dont even know im saying. i want to be first. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck isnt there a better word than fuck fuck fuck

random thought

random thought

Random thought:

Sometimes I think it would be really funny to spend some time with people that you aren't really close or compatible with and was forced to spend time with them.

Then maybe we could document and film a tv show together.

Just watched some Parks and Recreation.

END.

EDIT:

The characters in TVs are for the most part pretty one or two dimensional, maybe that's why they are so funny? For comedies at least.

pwe

pwe

sooo.... What exactly is the point of me taking classes?
I cleared most of my GE's, and I can't take more than one english pre-rec at a time.
I donno.

Does this lead to a more important question?
Perhaps...
Perhaps not.

Perhaps yes.

Why am I going to school?

Perhaps not.

Irrelevant, no comment.

Well since we are talking about the irrelevant, I might as well go on a tangent about something irrelevant.

But you know what? I don't like the rules, so fuck the rules, yeah! I'm going to talk about something kind of irrelevant, but not totally irrelevant (just because I like to stay in that little shade of gray between follow the rules and breaking them so that when I'm caught I hope I can be on the side that is following and not knowing the rules). Thanksgiving! Since it's coming up, it's relevant, but it's not totally irrelevant. Wait, did I get that backwards? It's not that relevant to what I wrote above, well I guess it is, because I'm talking about school and we have a small Thanksgiving break and stuff. Am I getting distracted?

Perhaps...
Perhaps not?
Perhaps, more likely.
Yes perhaps.

I'm thankful for the people around me. I'm thankful for you, you, you, you, you, you, you and you! Maybe not you, I don't care about you. Neither you or you... Sorry, but yeah. I'm thankful for you though. And you too!. And I can't forget about you and you. And youuuu I love you. I'm thankful for you. You are cool and stuff and redundant blahblahblah. And you too I guess, and you and you and you you you. Yeah I'm thankful for you too. But mostly the you, you , you, you, you, you, you and you; and the you, you, you, and the you (of course), and the YOU hehe yes you, silly u, lovely u, no youtube just you. I save you for last for dramatic effect isn't that funny? But really, all you guys, so thankful.

I could be dirt poor and not have this mac, but you guys make things better.
Relationships with people are so important. You are your company. I'm so glad I've surrounded myself (in an emotional way) with people that I care about. I have a really solid group of friends. Smart, capable  and most importantly LOYAL. Sincere in the group. Thanks. People are so important.

People to talk to, people to talk about music to, people to vent you deepest frustrations, people to just talk to and just enjoy the company of. People to not talk and just chill without being awkward. People to play pool with when bored and be super comfortable with. People to keep you accountable. People that you want to protect at all costs. People, people, people. The rest can burn up in flames, oh how I wish it so, but no. Thanks guys. You guys know the thanks. We all know. All the connections I have, I am thankful. Gawd so lame halp me.

poem.

poem.

the droplets of sweetness are tainted by

hate. Yes, it is just as much I, as much as

you, who dribbles and daps in this sweetness

as much as the wrath. Hopeless we are,

but valiant in pursue. I am not Hemingway,

maybe am I Dickinson. More Cummings,

but I can still relate these emotions and maybe

call them pretty. Yet, life is not poetry, and

neither do I live it like so. I would like to

take in every moment and be like soft flesh,

and despite what poetry says, not drown

myself in gin when time is grim and wrath

is clawed. And the moments come and go,

unlike knives, the sharper they are, the sharper the

pain. What is pleasure without pain? Smudged

pain is smudged pleasure. Quietly, I am pensive

Quietly, I am hateful. The wrath feeds on the

joy. The joy cowers in fear. But the fear is not there.

Because I am valiant. Arson, maybe. Yet fear? I know

of no such thing. The unwilling, the foolish,

and the cowering fear. Be valiant and revel

in the uncertainty.

certainty

certainty

I like to start off my posts with a pretentious blanket statement, something cliché, but inevitability true.
Here it is: we live in a place where we try to make the uncertain certain. And so we say and do things that don't make sense. We are afraid of leaving the future up in the air, because then we are vulnerable to failure. And to us, vulnerability is weakness, vulnerability should be avoided. So it feels better to make things seem certain even when they are not, so we can hide our vulnerabilities.

I still have qualms about this whole vulnerability thing, because i have this terrible affliction for it, and I enjoy numbing it, sometimes consequently the joy that may follow. Let me give you an example of making the uncertain certain: I want to be with you forever. Those are couple words, but are they even close to valid? Sure you may feel it, but why do you feel it? It's because you are afraid of vulnerability. It's because as people afraid of vulnerability, we have this desire for controlling and predicting  How did I come across this conclusion?

I'll break down that sentence for you. I want to be with you forever. So you want to get married and have kids? Maybe you want to rot with each other? And then they may say something like, well I don't usually like think of marriage: wait stop. So you don't want to be with each other forever? Then why say it?

It's because that word: forever. It put's this pretense of certainty on something that is better left uncertain. We can pretend about certain things, but that dismisses the integrity of the emotion.

BEST FRIENDS FOREVAAAA AWW I LOVE YOU FOREVER ILL BE WITH YOU FOREVER

And that my friends, is the prime example of insecurity (shut the fuck up). Do you understand where I am getting at? You have to embrace the uncertainty to feel the real and to uphold the integrity of the relationship. And what's more important than that is you have to be willing to be vulnerable. You have to be willing to say I love you first. You have to be willing to love with whole hearts even when there is uncertainty.

*                                               *                                               *

Oh, hello, I'm back. That was my inner therapist talking. UGH FUCK what the FUCK
Im such a wrathful person FUCKIN GOTDAMIT FUCK i hate being vulnerable UGH

1 or 2

1 or 2

Antiquated minds have this obsession of portraying objects as they really are. They have this obsession with a realist perspective, being able to see things and portray as they are. They don't realize their skills will always be overshadowed by a photograph.

The modern mind is no longer concerned with being able to imitate a camera, but is concerned with the essence of an object, how it is seen and why it is seen in the light in which it is seen. They are concerned less with the represented, but with more how the represented is related to the viewer.

And then there is this separate tier of people incapable of doing either. These are fucking fools should stick to flipping burgers.

Is burger flipping encoded within genetics? I don't think so. The minds of people and their ideas are closely related to proximity and how their near and what ideas they are exposed to. More importantly, for the most part it matters what geniuses they are friends with, so that they can leach off one specific idea and expand on it immensely. It only takes one original idea for people to totally go off. See, the average person that is focused on the realist expectations does not, and more importantly, is not concerned with creation of new ideas, but rather the expansion of old ones. And then they pass it off as art. But its better than trying to do one or the other (portrayal of real object or phenomology) when he or she is totally incapable of 1. the skill required for the former, 2. the ingenuity required for the latter.

The first thing required is to understand this concept. this is very hastily and unclearly written.

complimentary colors clown duck forest of the mind child float

new tumblrz

new tumblrz

two new tumblrs. #followme FTW!! LOL haha #ilovemyh8erz!!
but itz wteverz i dun rlly care 2 much UGHH #heartbroken #lonely #textmemaybe

love is beautiful
&
the fucc boi

appalled

appalled

[acular culture provided by default the artist's only apparent grasp on modernity. Even this notoriously hermetic and withdrawn poet, like the anarchist-socialist Signac, held that the advanced artist was necessarily allied with the lower classes in their struggle for political recognition: "The multitude demands to see with its own eyes;... the transition from the old imaginative artist and dreamer to the energetic modern worker is found i] talkaboutfuckingstupidshit

why bother writing if you write so nobody can understand you? It goes against the very purpose of writing which is communication.

READ THIS

READ THIS

I keep trying to write things, but I just end up sounding like a broken record player from thoughts I had before. Maybe it’s because I want other people to understand the meaning behind everything that I think that I keep repeating myself. It doesn’t really work.

One of the main reasons is because skulls are thick and can only be penetrated from the inside out. It’s too difficult to poke a hole through the outside. It’s like an egg, a chick can only come from the inside out. Cracking an egg could not be done by the chick from the outside in, unless with an extremely hard force that just devastates the premature chick. So me keep saying these pearls of thoughts is really no use for the most part. I’m throwing pearls to pigs, who just devour them without much use to them, or to me. Things can rarely be learned the easy way (me telling you); they are almost always learned the hard way (someone damaging you). Even a little bit of hardheadedness really allows learning only by experiences. They say the truly smart learn from the bad experiences of other people, but the almost impossible nature of doing that kinda makes it a throwaway sentence.

* * *

Couple things I would like to load into a bullet and lodge inside the skull of a person, if I could. Things I want to teach people

Um, don’t be emotional. This is impossible, but be at least detached from stressful situations as possible. Know why? Being emotional leads to being stupid. A fuckin idiot. That’s where mistakes that could’ve been avoided arise. This is another way to say don’t be stupid when you have all the chance to avoid it. When things start going bad, try talking to a friend and get an outside glimpse. Do not be a dunce and go in states of self loathing. And when you do this: LISTEN to the other person, and maybe accept the fact maybe your vision is actually twisted by the emotion stress you are under.

On the same plane as not being emotional: do not fear. What is there to fear? The worst things to happen to people besides death is bad experience. Bad experience is something to learn from. Only the foolish brood upon bad experiences and let those hurt future aspirations and experiences. Those who do that will inevitable fail at the experience altogether. Experience is a good teacher, but bad experience does a hell of a lot better job at it. Don’t think too much, don’t be afraid, and stop fucking loathing and brooding like a lil bitch. It low key pisses me off when people act like lil bitches and can’t burn their bridges and just cry on the inside and rot. Just do whatever’s next. Don’t think too much, seriously, just move on and get on with your life. Shit happens.

Time wasted is time wasted. And there is nothing worse than wasted time. Talent without a work ethic is absolutely useless, and almost all of one’s time must be devoted to what he wishes to succeed in, in thinking, in doing, or in mediating. Every minute lost to something else is so invaluable and can never be found again. Go get drunk and smoke weed, really good things will come out of it. When’s the last time ANYTHING good came out of an experience like that? I honestly can’t remember. I can remember throwing up, laughing, a couple useless kisses (and the bitch forgetting it in the morning), and some other stuff, but nothing really good. Wouldn’t it be the same for you? But note self: Why oh God why do I like to drink? I suppose I fail in that aspect too. Oh goodness, but I just can’t wait to see some people ruin their lives because of this fact. All the time they wasted may hit them like a snowstorm when they are thirty five and broke, and I can’t wait because it’s so true. But in all seriousness, I wish I could tattoo this principle onto my soul: Do not waste time, do not be human, be immortal.

If you are insecure, then you will inevitably fail in life. I don’t know how else to say this. And also, if you are a cold hearted bitch, don’t expect to get any love. Die alone and angry. So many people have this twisted conception of what love is, and I don’t really know myself, but I know this much: it’s a selfless endeavor. Sorry, this is turning into a rant and I’m putting to much stupid shit in.

Be sincere. I don’t know how to stress the importance of this one. It’s almost so much harder than said, but it still must be said. Sincerity is arguably the most important trait in a human being in my opinion. Most conflict arises from deep insincerity from within. If one is insincere, progress is made in the wrong direction, and what’s the point of that? ANSWER: there is no point. Be as natural as possible, and really be unafraid to be who you are. The moment you turn to look at the gazes of other people, you look away from what you can really achieve. Know what the public sees and be aware of that fact, but do not be affect by it.

Choose your friends wisely. You are the company that you keep. If you hang out with dumbasses, whores, and delinquents, don’t be surprised when you become of the same blood as them. You can kind of tell what kind of person you are by looking at your friends. For the stupidass that thinks that they’re smart? There’s a reason why you are a stupidass, stupidass. For the bitch that thinks they the shit? Take a look at your friends and get a reality check. After you find good friends, keep your friends close and everyone else emotionally far away. Cut out the things in your life that you don’t need! Empty friends and acquaintances? Do not become emotionally attached, just simply let them exist because all emotional attachments have the possibility of bringing you down and just being weight. A good example is when somebody doesn’t talk to you for six months and the first conversation they strike up with you is if you have any information on the class you took last spring. “Oh, um, it was okay I guess. Also just know that I don’t give a fuck about your existence, thank you very much.” Don’t be so quick to trust others as well. Trust and respect should be earned, not readily given. The consequences are dire with these actions.

Actions talk. Talk is cheap. Don’t do silly things. Image is so important, and it’s so easy to fuck it up. Who wants to be the stupid slut or the pothead jock? Nobody, well I hope so. But image is created by all the conscious decisions we make on a daily basis. Fuck, smoke, and bitch all you want, but it’s the shitty image that tags along to your actions. It goes the other way too. Good actions talk a lot as well, and image gets carried along with it. Look away for a second and ask yourself: how often do I smoke weed? How often do I drink? How often do I fuck people I don’t know? How often do I cry? How often do I make enemies? If the answer to any of those is kinda high, there’s a good chance you are a pothead, wino, slut, bitch, or an asshole. Image can change, although people really can’t without something like a brick hitting their face.

That’s all I can think of right now.

Besides all the bitchin, it pretty much sums up my blog.

shh...

shh...

Would I rather be a cremated Cézanne, or the unnamed gravestone upon which lies the rose of those who loved him?

This is rhetorical, because we all know I know the answer.
But talk is cheap, and worth nothing without fruition.

So I do my best to keep my mouth shut to everyone else.

shh..

If the painter is an imbecile, then his painting is useless.

Fact

Fact

Here is a fact about life.
IF you live your life without surpassing those before you, or helping others, or live without either of those goals or bring them to fruition, then you are as good as dead.

Die.

Your presence on this earth is unneeded.

26, that's the age. If everything that is delusional and crazy does not come into fruition, then I am as good as dead. 26. 7 years

The first step in becoming immortal is becoming not human and throwing away the limits which make us human.

linger

linger

Childish to say the least. I remember when I thought that knowing meant understanding, and understanding was so central to being wise. It's much of a naive thought now, but I still do not understand the other side of that argument. What does this understanding serve? Needless to say, many have not understood or really taken the value of what I wrote below. Read the radical lingering rejection:

The rose is perfectly what it is: an undying metaphor used to remember the dead, to express beauty, corruption, love or anything else that fits the occasion. Delicate and fragile, beautiful yet deadly, and altogether perfectly resolute for what it has become a symbol for, the rose is eternal.

On a cold winter day, I sat down on a bench in Descanso Gardens and I studied a rose. I sat there for a bit, and then I left. But what actually happened was that a moment of epiphany dawned on me when my gaze collided with the ephemeral beauty, and saw beyond the rose to see a metaphor of the human mind. But in all reality, I looked at a rose, stood up, and left, because abstractions don’t exist in a concrete reality.

But what happens when a young lover gives a rose to the girl he always adored? Or when a son lays a rose upon the gravestone of his mother? Meaning is given to an utterly meaningless plant, and the rose blooms into a grand gesture, becoming a vessel of language. When I studied the rose in the garden, I saw a rose that had no meaning, yet could imply meaning on a totally separate level of insight. Just as the eternal rose can be as brisk and undaunting as the morning sun, multiple dimensions of depth give way to a new meaning of understanding.

There’s a word for people like me, people that see both the fleeting rose and the undying metaphor, and come to accept that both exist where such harmony is impossible. It is the same word for people that see every weakness in education, yet pursue the elegant door of opportunity for knowledge and the growth it poses; the same word for people that see the sophistry of cynicism and yet still try to dig deeper for some abstraction to operate as a meaning for every ‘why’ that appears. A paper swashbuckler. A pacifist cavalier. A reverent libertine. A selfless egotist. A happy idealist. That’s exactly what I am: a paradox.

I saw a paradox in the rose. Although there was no literal symbol in it, I abstracted it because literature, culture, and the minds of people beg for meaning, even if it is paradoxical. Just as the rose is nothing but a plant, the pinnacle of all humanity’s achievements is nothing but words, paint, numbers and noise. But words, paint, numbers and noise are all we have to live on, because out of that chaos, literature, music, math, and art are born.

School hands me a palette of rough materials. I call this knowledge. Physics formulas and SAT vocabulary are typical examples. But more than how much of this knowledge I simply retain, what takes precedence is how I understand its mechanics and use it to transform and progress society. Just as I take the rose and fashion it with bits and pieces of implication and create wondrous meaning, I give this knowledge breath by molding and funneling it into my everyday life. In the future, I may take the formula for Power and apply it to a Dam in California to conserve water. I may take my SAT vocabulary and write a book on the discourse of nations and the fundamental need for cooperation between states to create global unity. At face value, it may seem knowledge has little meaning because facts and theories alone have no power without initiative, but this knowledge can have tremendous power. Understanding that this knowledge holds great influence, sometimes bringing civilizations to their peak, but sometimes destroying others, gives it a fresh sweep of significance. Metaphors siphon worth and progressiveness in an otherwise bland palette of knowledge. These building blocks of my perceived intelligence are what make me a conscious being, capable of changing and propelling humanity for the better. Now learning is never the same. As my palette of knowledge increases, the portrait I can paint becomes more and more progressively brilliant.

When I sat down on the bench in Descanso garden, I heard a voice. The rose asked me, “Am I beautiful? Despicable? Shallow? Deep? Mystifying?”

I looked it and replied, “No, you are just a rose,” stood up, and left. But at some point of understanding, the rose becomes a rose no more, but everything it needs to be, and more.

...

It's a nice thought, I suppose. And I thought I made it so straightforward heh

Common application.. pwah

shoot

shoot

If I could take a bullet and a gun to every asshole that broke a heart, maybe I will. But that would mean that in the end, only the bitches who got their hearts broke would be left, and the girls too nice to say no.  And also the fellows that never have even traded their hearts for anything. And it will also mean shooting a couple of my friends. And honestly, hearts break all the time, that's not a cause for death. Maybe for a moment, and for a time, but time usually heals things, or at least it feels like it. Feelings dissipate and people fade.

Maybe I'll do it in a calculated fashion. If this person broke x number of hearts or more, then he or she goes. Bam. People don't change that easily, the curve will probably continue the same rate. Is the world better off without the person and so many hearts saved, or better off with the person and so many experiences learned? I don't know.

Die, just die, it's an emotional response that can't really weigh out in the vast scheme of things. Is a broken heart better than a broken spine? Of course. But better than a broken arm? Maybe not. So a broken heart lies somewhere in better a broken spine and a broken arm? Probably somewhere in between a rib and a punctured lung. If I felt like a lame optimist I would write something like, "time heals both the rib and the heart, and they end up stronger at the end of the adversity." But fuck it, it's not true. Broken hearts can sometimes only do a fragment of what they did before, and everyone knows it. That's why maybe I can just get rid of the cause of the broken hearts if I took a loaded gun to every asshole's face. Would the world be a better place? Then people would really understand love be better to the people around them. The new world Kira, doing all for the sake of love, and teaching others that breaking hearts is no good.

If people didn't burn bridges properly, then psychos like me might just snap and take the bullet to the person's face and blow their brains out on to the cold cement instead. The trigger moves back an inch, and their lives, sins, and transgressions cement into their souls. No retribution. No nothing, just get judged by me for the things you did. And fuck a sorry, sorry doesn't heal things. Assholes and bitches just being too hasty and liking new things and forgetting old loves, maybe it's a sin to die for.

You're dead to me. It makes sense now right? The metaphor takes the place of the physical bullet. I could think of a couple people dead to me. They might as well just die tomorrow, and I wouldn't blink twice. That idea exists so bullets don't have be fired. People would go mad without that sort of option. Imagine the ruckus and remains of all the half living souls in a person's brain. They just sort of crawl around, and plead for mercy, but who knows, maybe they are better off dying slowly. Sometimes the bullet is the mercy. But, for the sake of explanation, I'll take a gun to every assholes head, for the people can't do it themselves.

And then maybe I'll shoot myself in the face.

because of the guilt of the travesty I've just commited, of course

not really because I'm an asshole.

wow

wow

I just realized, wow, I am fuckin cool
just... wow

fuck em and let em burn

fuck em and let em burn

don't make me daydream

love is

love is

Is love but a rosary of hours, lonely devotions being slowly counted until repeated and worn out till the beads no longer seek the light of day? Perhaps it is much more like a bird's life, gay in the morning, restless all day, tired at sundown. Or maybe it could be likened to cyclical reruns of played out emotions, binding those caught in it's grasp in a never-ending time loop of unfunny and mundane gaiety and then distraught. It could be much more biblical: patient, kind, and forever. Yet, outside the dominion of the divine, it seems to be one of the many thieves and rulers of the human heart.

Who is to say it even exists? In a Satrean teenage angst, I could say that love is non-existent, that what people have been portraying as love is nothing but a foray of electrical currents and hormones. The heart, as Galvani has shown, is nothing but a foray of biochemistry, signals of the electrical nervous system. Is that why people are caught in the current of that electrifying heart stopping gaze? Just joking, it's lust, there's nothing really desire than my desire to fuck. That's how some people have been treated, nothing much than a good fuck, where the thing that is called love is based upon hedonistic and unenlightened desires. Maybe shitty parents, bad life at home, terrible first love, I wouldn't know, that's your business.

Or is it because of the loneliness? Sometimes for people, where communication breaks down, loneliness takes hold. Full attention from just one person is more than enough to fill that cup of desire for attention and affirmation of one's esteem. For the weaker willed, love is a vain feeling, and most of the time a struggle to prolong irreconcilable differences. A childish attempt to keep afloat a sinking ship. "Don't go, we can make it work". Idiot. Crow. Don't kid yourself, that's an excrementitious relation.

However, feelings are almost impossible to put a pin upon because the human is always caught in a state of duality, a constant anxiety of dual existence: one that is fleeting, and one that is eternal and long lasting. The two opposite sides of the spectrum are a quick fuck from a ho and a marriage without divorce I suppose. If each person takes their position on this spectrum, the conflicting viewpoints on love and relationship would never work because full equality is difficult to maintain. Which is why they almost never do. When two people come upon this idea of affection for each other at different angles, problems occur.

See, the loser of a relationship, the loser of love is always the person that sits that the far right of the spectrum. The person that feels deeper emotions of anxiety for the other person, the person with the care that is deeply seated in selfless desires. The one who is more vulnerable by letting him or herself fall is the loser. The irresolute win. When a heart breaks, it never breaks even. This is because at the breaking point, the one on the right of the spectrum has much more at stake, and consequently much more to lose.

Isn't that a terrible compromise? How can the person who is more genuine in his or her emotions play a game such as love? It is not sensible. The slut wins over the nun, and the player over the priest. It's a really fragile balance of push and pull that the people involved have to maintain. The further each is from their spectrum, the higher the resulting tension, and usually the worse the consequences. It goes the other way too: the closer each is to each other on the spectrum, the greater the chance of a successful relationship. Sluts ride with sluts, and the holier with the holier. Assholes are assholes because they are further on the left side of the spectrum than the other side involved.

Doesn't that make this game liken to a gamble? You roll the dice, and if you and if the other person involved lie on the same inch of the spectrum as you, then eureka! But how often does that occur? And don't forget to throw in the other variables. Personality? Aesthetics? Proximity? The list goes on and on. Some people gamble and gamble to no avail. And each time a person gambles, a little chunk of the heart is put at stake. The little pieces are gambled and lost until at some point, there will be nothing left to gamble, and consequently nothing left to measure on the spectrum of reciprocation. Kill or be killed, these people are incapable of sustaining a long relationship.

This concept extends further than just the relationship. On a personal level, one of the reasons I have discovered for my reserved nature is based upon this very idea. I remain closed off to maintain invulnerability to being taken granted of/ignored, because I am afraid of the spectrum. That's usually why "I just don't give a fuck", because people don't understand the spectrum (forgive the blanket statement) and are insensible to the trust and reciprocating obligation. Sometimes I am reckless and mindless of the rules. Sometimes I am lucky, sometimes I am unlucky, all depending on the circumstances.  Whatever, sometimes I try to roll my dice more carefully. But forgive me for the digression, this post is not about me.

What do I mean by prating of love and such things? It's a godforsaken topic, not meant to be thought upon by the mortal.

We wine, and then we dine on corpses. We lie together, and eat each others flesh until everything burns into a crisp ash, and the smoke dissipates into the thin air. Be loved beloved, and watch the clockwork work its way as it does.

control intonations bridges instant portrait

Remember when we weren't strangers?

do u liek drugs?

do u liek drugs?

Her eyes were cold, soulless and empty. Her skin, vaguely discolored, and her aura distanced and distraught. She had a sad, mismatched aura. And the way she talked, goodness. She talked corpses out of her mouth. Her speech was dead, to say the least. Her mind seemed somewhere far away, antiquated. Maybe in a different place and time.  Maybe in the Middle-fuckin-ages. She talked about Beowulf too. But as terrible as the subject other speech was, it wasn't really that. The way she felt about the subject, the way she was so immersed in such a trivial and obtruse subject. If I cared, maybe I would tell her, "come back to the 21st century". But I don't. She talked heroism, but her figure was aged and decrepit. She talked glory and interest, but she was a sexing-geometric-shape aka she was a fuckin square. Meet my english teacher for English 10A.

so much to do

so much to do

but i do it all.

It's a big daze, everything is. A bit hazy and rough around the edges but I think I can see through it.

alcohol

alcohol

it's when i'm most honest I suppose. I just wrote a song, and I think it's pretty honest.

drunk

damien rice

cheers darling

anyhow, what is it about alcohol that brings out the honesty? honestly, I just want a fuckin cigarette. a  marlboro red to be honest. dont judge me, i dont even smoke. (that's partially a lie) well, I don't somke anymore. here's another secret, I found a girl that I really like and connect with for the first fuckin time in decades and centuries. And my head hurts. Did i mention that?

A part of me wonders if I'll remember this in the morning. lol I'm just saying that, of course I will. Anyhow, how are you? I'm good thank you. Your a psycho yo. nahhhhh

Whatever, what I really wanted to say is that. Its scicesss pver aufaiosdk cm,d
succeessover everythins ... success. i swilll succeed.
sorry if this blo posth sis h fucked up fgyo
my eyelids are just droppigns. i dont knwo wmany. ilove is such a funny thig. pwuahahaha ... mannnnnnnn di dont eveb know what to think
love
love
happiness
siccess
locegds g

no picture lolas

pondering my existence

pondering my existence

what the fuck are emotions yo?
why do people have emotions?
emotions make straightforward things complicated.
emotions also make them a bit antsy and up in the air.
without emotions people would just work and procreate, i suppose.
thats pretty lame i guess. but still

why do people have emotions? instinct? purpose? iono man

sometimes, i wish i could feel no fear, feel no angst, feel no jealousy, feel no tension, feel no worries
and just do thing, as they were meant to be done. cause then it's pretty happy and good from then on
that's kinda how i feel right now.
but thats lame to just feel the good emotions without the bad emotions.
i suppose the bad emotions help people to appreciate the better ones. is that their purpose?
does black exist just to show how white white is? that cant be right.
one just probably has to exist for the other to exist. thats what everything is... coexistence

and human to human relationships too?
why make them so complicated?
i dislike complicated things, i suppose
straightforward, desensitized me
so aqua
will you be aqua with me?
and just let all it all go
no fear, no angst, no tension, no worries
our existence by itself is enough to fill in all the gaps of nothingness that may or not exist

guilty

guilty

Can I legitimately feel guilty to doing a horrid thing I did in my dream to another person? Even though I would never do what I do in my dreams, the fact that I dreamed about me doing it makes me feel like a villain. I feel like a decrepit and horrible soul inside right now, because the dream felt so real.

My dreams are back to haunt me in different ways this time. The most ridiculous guilt transfer ever.

Fuckin spazz ass mind, why you gotta do this me fuck

mula

mula

success over errythang
if it's money or die
then we billionaires to the grave
and rockin lv to the tomb

fuckin squares

fuckin squares

2-d cubes having sex

*                                        *                                        *
Of course, it's difficult to put people into little boxes and categories, but for the sake of simplification, that is what I will attempt to do. By no means are any of these exclusive, but just what I see applies the best.

There are five things that make a good rapper great. In no particular order:
1. Sincerity
2. Ease of listening (appeal)
3. Lines that hit (punchlines, 'ohhh shiiiit what the fuck' lines)
4. Skill
5. Clever concepts
6. Bounce/Rhythm (optional)

There are only few rappers with all these attributes. I'll go through a list of rappers that exemplify certain aspects of the attribute in particular, and rappers that are not good at the attribute as well in parenthesis:
1. Tupac/ J. Cole/ Big K.R.I.T
2. Kid Cudi/ Wiz Khalifa (Tech N9ne/ Pusha T/ Cyhi the Prince)
3. Lil Wayne/ Childish Gambino
4. Eminem/ Tech N9ne/ Kendrick Lamar/ Nas/ Lupe (A$AP Rocky)
5. Kanye West
6. Notorious B.I.G/ Andre 3000 (Talib Kweli)

Then there are the follow up skills which are almost necessary, but not in the same grouping as the above:
7. Storytelling
8. Aura/ Mood
9. Vocal Control

7. Jay-Z/ Common/ Mos Def/ Talib Kweli/ Immortal Technique
8.  Nipsey Hussle/ Tyler/ A$AP Rocky/ L.E.P Bogus Boys
9. Tyga/ Drake/ Andre 3000

And then aside from all this, most rappers fit into three categories of why they rap. They are, again, in no particular order:
1. Joy
2. Emotion
3. Success

I'll put in korean musicians just for kicks.

Joy:

Beenzino

Primary

Sanchez

Emotions:

Tablo

Lupe (pre-lasers)

E-sens

The Weeknd

Frank Ocean

Childish Gambino

Success:

San-e

Tyga

Simon-D

Dok2

Lil Wayne

Nipsey Hussle

split:

Drake (emotions/success)

J. Cole (emotions/success)

Tyler (emotions/joy)

Big Sean (emotions/success)

theory

theory

I've come up with a theory about human thinking. This theory encompasses both free will and 'fate', if you will. Of course, this theory doesn't deal with any of the physics or fate of the universe and/or physical objects but is based on the premise that concepts of free will and 'fate' are based in the human brain. You will come to understand what I mean to say.

There are some who say that if free will truly existed in this world, then things that are not physically possible would occur. For example, if I wanted to fly, I could fly. I find this statement ridiculous, to say the least. In this universe, then, free will would apply to all physical objects as well. Does that mean now that objects have their own conscience, if not then, how would they react in this universe. This idea essentially gives the human mind power over the universe, two things (human mind and physical dimension) I believe exist in their separate dimensions. This is not what I am talking about.

I believe that free will exists entirely in the mind, as it very well should (and quite obviously does).

At any given point in time, a human being has numerous choices (bounded by his physical abilities). These numerous choices can span from the smallest to the largest choices. I could jump right now, I could pick my pencil, and what not. All these choices are created by the mind and the imagination. Once the imagination brings such thought or possibility to being, there exists a choice: to do or not to do. Of course, in any normal circumstance, we do not consciously think of these things. Most of these choices are filtered unconsciously. So I suppose, because these choices are made unconsciously, we don't exactly have a choice in being able to choose many of these, basically taking away our free will. But the fact that these choices exist shows that free will exists. Out of all those numerous choices created, few of them surface to our conscious mind. These are what we perceive to be the choices of daily life. Do this, do that, everything that we do sprouts from these.

To expand, because these thoughts and choices are conceived by imagination, this essentially gives those with greater imagination greater freedom to do what we will, because everything we can possibly do is still bounded by what can think of to do. For example, writing is a most tactile example. As a person writes, each word is a conscious decision and choice he comes upon, by being able to deny every other possibly less fitting word and using that word in their place. Thus it would make sense that writers sometimes exhibit greater imagination and thinking capability, and vice versa. Of course by no means does that mean that the writer is anymore success, because there are many ofter things in life that determine that.

Perhaps there are alternate states of minds that bring about these unconscious choices. And maybe that's why people do retarded shit when they are drunk or high. Instead of normally apprehending choices, choices that were meant to stay in the unconscious realm arise and break the barrier of common sensibility.  Many of these choices are probably based upon human instinct as well, and in a very Freudian concept, cut out by our superego. This actually explains a lot, if you think about it. The confidence booster, the aggravated anger, the melancholy, the whatever. And maybe that's why some people say that when people are drunk, they tend to exhibit their true selves.