I am a spirit trapped in a body. I like to make the eyes look all around. I like to make the toes wiggle. The more I make them wiggle, the more I convince the body that it is getting harder to wiggle them. I like to make the hair grow. I like to make the nails grow. I like to make the words come out without considering what words and in what order. I don’t consider what foot to start with. Period.
This is all utter bullshit and if you’re pretending to enjoy this, you’re lying to yourself or to myself or to themselves. I have a great idea! Let’s all get in a car and drive to a dive where it’s too loud to talk and to smokey to breath. Let’s all get some drinks that are too expensive and then drink many of them and never really say anything that matters and then get back in the car and drive off a cliff.
What a great day! I woke up and discovered that the pile of fingernail clippings I left under my pillow has become self-aware. I looked at the pile and it looked back at me. It was very exciting.
“Who am I?” is a good question. I was born, and in the instant I breathed, I was inside this body. I was changed by the people I was around but I was still a variation on a Me. I was born this lump of clay and I don’t care how much you dig me and sculpt me I will always be the same damn clay.
I made this body my slave, but just because I own it and it does what I say, that doesn’t mean that I can make it do whatever I want.
The day the clay became self aware was a good/bad day. Good because I wasn’t aware I wasn’t aware and it’s good to be aware of such thuses and hences. Bad because I was thus aware I wasn’t aware and so hence I started to think what that meant. What that meant about what I had just done for those years in the past. I wasn’t aware, but I was alive.
Or I wasn’t alive. I was in a natural state of suspension. Suspended the waiting, but before the waiting I wasn’t anything. I am not sure if you can suspend nothingness, but I guess it’s like filling your lungs with outerspace. You filled them with nothingness and then you get back in your spaceship and breath again and you’ve suspended the nothingness and instigated a new oxygen-based phase of your life.
This is all a load of crap and if you are pretending like this is a deep comment on the existence of the soul and its struggle to be seen through the body then you are wrong/right.
Did you see when my lungs were full of emptiness? Did you see when I wanted to make the eyes close and the brain stop? Did you see that expression on my face and I really couldn’t care about the face anyway because I’m a soul not a face. I don’t care about potatoes because I’m a soul not a potato. I don’t care about grass because I’m not a blade and I I guess I don’t have a face if I’m not a body.
What a great day.
I made this body my slave, but just because I own it and it does what I say, that doesn’t mean that I can make it do whatever I want.
The day the clay became self aware was a good/bad day. Good because I wasn’t aware I wasn’t aware and it’s good to be aware of such thuses and hences. Bad because I was thus aware I wasn’t aware and so hence I started to think what that meant. What that meant about what I had just done for those years in the past. I wasn’t aware, but I was alive.
Or I wasn’t alive. I was in a natural state of suspension. Suspended the waiting, but before the waiting I wasn’t anything. I am not sure if you can suspend nothingness, but I guess it’s like filling your lungs with outerspace. You filled them with nothingness and then you get back in your spaceship and breath again and you’ve suspended the nothingness and instigated a new oxygen-based phase of your life.
This is all a load of crap and if you are pretending like this is a deep comment on the existence of the soul and its struggle to be seen through the body then you are wrong/right.
Did you see when my lungs were full of emptiness? Did you see when I wanted to make the eyes close and the brain stop? Did you see that expression on my face and I really couldn’t care about the face anyway because I’m a soul not a face. I don’t care about potatoes because I’m a soul not a potato. I don’t care about grass because I’m not a blade and I I guess I don’t have a face if I’m not a body.
What a great day.
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