Tag Archives: thoughts

Pinball Reflections 1-25

pinball

1
At some point in his life, a person may stumble upon the erroneous conclusion about himself that he is awesome. He believes it for the rest of his life.
2
To put on a show for other people — one must be really bored with himself when he’s all alone.
3
An egg breaks when you drop it. A man bleeds when you stab him. A baby stops crying when you feed her. So where’s the need for superstition?
4
We just hate it when someone speaks for our thoughts more clearly than how we would have done it. Makes us feel all dumb and silent.
5
A man who searches for hidden things is a desperate man. Continue reading

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Personal Taboo

You might as well have been f*cked from behind and you wouldn’t have done anything about it, as well.That feeling is what I’m talking about. That sinking feeling of silent grieving over your inadequacies morphing into shackles that leave you trapped. You can’t even claw your way outside, act suddenly all ferocious and volatile because, well, you’re not. In the first place, that’s probably why you’re standing there as the world unloads truckloads of cum on your mom. Yes, it’s also that. That typical perspective is what I’m talking about. That typical perspective of malicious, dirty and sick thoughts that forms a crust all over the mind. Bubbling, popping each second, the viscous dark green liquid submerging the brain, turning it into an ugly revolting monster soaked in phlegm. So you begin to talk about moms getting unloaded with cum, fetuses boiled in Chinese soups, bosses’ necks tied with a rope, their backs whipped raw, their big mouths stuffed with anything filled with muck,  youngsters brutally raped and murdered. That’s it. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. That kind of perspective which could only come from the most restricted of all beings, the most repressed and compressed. These thoughts are the pieces of garbage, the decaying materials that we just wanna hide and extinguish. But they can’t be extinguished as long as there are people who might as well have been f*cked from behind without ever any fairy nor wizard coming to their rescue. No happy endings to expect, no saviors coming down from the blue heavens which probably scorn our phlegms of existences anyway. It’s all these people can do, watch a freak movie in their heads while other people laugh and spend. Because at times, I think, some of us, we share that tranquil feeling of being run over by a speeding truck, our beautiful guts splattered on the roadside. We share those amusing but disturbing smiles as someone else derives physical sweaty bliss from our tortured state. I’m talking about that because we share that. But few have the time and talent to describe how complex that natural process is, so I did it myself; that complex natural process, a work of genius, of being slapped, tapped, and unloaded on. There’s no solution. You just turn the experience into the myth of the day, and tell every expectant face at home that you’ve had a blast of a time from the moment the alarm clock screamed “Time to live!”

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Random Thoughts on Life and Death on the Eve of My Birthday


It’s the eve of my birthday. I was just 6 months old when I was born. Had I been born normally, my birthday would be on November instead of August. I wouldn’t have been Leo. Maybe I wouldn’t have that lion pride in me. Maybe I wouldn’t have been Marvin. Maybe…

Whatever. Continue reading

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Death Comes to Us on a Friday

Friday is the most unusual of all the days of the week. It is the penultimate day before the weekend. Everything ends on a Friday: the rush, the frustrations, the expectations, the wickedness of work. They end, at least temporarily, on a Friday.

Friday is neither part of the work week nor the weekend. It is somewhere in between. This is probably the reason why we feel so lethargic when Friday comes. It’s like we’re working while tasting the sweetness of the weekend at the tip of our tongue. The day is a transition from here to there, from files to TV marathons, from coffee to beer, from the office to the park, from our stiff work clothes to our loose outdoor clothes, from pain to pleasure, from colleagues to family. We’re working while we’re heading home on a Friday. We’re being slaves to our bosses while we’re setting ourselves free on this very unique day. In a way, everything ends and starts on a Friday. Continue reading

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Throw Away After Reading

Something is definitely wrong with this world. I mean, how could it be so hard to just be with you? That should have been simpler than one and one is two, but god, look at me, I’m withering. There should have been just two things here: you and me, and all that’s magical and beautifully sad should have come forth from there. But just look at all this. It doesn’t look like it’s worth a goddamn grimy penny.

Every day, I feel like a protagonist slipping gradually, helplessly to a secondary role, perhaps an anti-hero who may be edited out of the story without any significant change to its flow. More and more, I feel the light dimming around me. And like a graceful moth, you’re starting to fly away to more welcoming luminescence.

Perhaps words like these are to blame. They talk too much and reveal too much about the darkness inside, choking all mysteries. They go on and on and on without saying anything. They rain “I love yous” ’til they spur disastrous floods between us. I can almost say I’m drowning you with them.

Yet despite this — this crazy jungle of ridiculous and murderous obstacles, I know that all I want is to hold your hand tightly. I want us to look up to the starry night sky once again with the wonder of youth and the innocence of two people who barely know each other.

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100 Thoughts on Love

1

Romantic love is the most important of all kinds of love. It is the most interesting, the one that fills us up and launches us into the heights of our art or lack thereof. Even when we think we are talking about something else, perhaps another type of love, we are still talking about romantic love. It’s our tail if we were monkeys.

2

We always seek (romantic) love. When we enter the right age, we carry our inner mission to seek it in our classrooms, neighborhoods, offices, and everywhere else. We need it. We’re always sniffing for it like dogs.

3

The will is not enough to get love. You must be an agreeable person to get another person. Love is generally a celebration of life. One does not fall in love with a sick, dying, decaying person.

4

You must do your part to get love. “Working for it” is not as necessary as “doing something about it.” Some people are luckier than others. They lift a finger and love comes pouring down from the sky like heavy rain. Other people can grow a farm full of red roses and love couldn’t give a shit.

5

Love is ultimately indefinable because it is a personal subjective experience. There is no sacred table by which we can measure if we’re already in love or not. We claim we are in love. In a way, we decide when we are in love.

6

Love at its most basic level is sexual. There must be a semblance of physical attraction to support the more nuanced areas of love. Sexual attraction is a stepping stone to reach the more advanced levels of the emotion.

7

A person is only able to rise above the mere physical when in love because society enables him to explore other features of the object of his love. Thus, for example, he can afford to fall in love with someone who lacks beauty but who is intelligent because society needs that sort of love to be more productive. Society needs intelligent people as much as it needs beautiful people. Society needs different forms of love so that different people can all hope to reach their own kind of love. Variety in love is useful to society because not all people are beautiful.

8

Love always defies our expectations in that it is never how we imagine it to be.

9

The object of your love, the other person, is not necessarily the best person you’ve met but she means so much anyway. We weigh the importance of people in our lives erratically when we’re in love.

10

We are full of errors when we are in love. We couldn’t care less. Continue reading

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