The Undertaker

Thank you for making me
feel like I am guilty.
Making it... easy to...
murder your sweet memory.

You were way out of line,
went and turned it all around on me again.
How can I not smell your lie
through the smoke and arrogance?

But, now I know.
So, you will not get away with it again.
I'm distant in those hollow eyes
for I have reached my end.
So...

Thank you for making me
feel like I am guilty,
making it easy to murder your sweet memory.

Before I go, tell me...
Were you ever who you claimed yourself to be?

Either way I must say goodbye.
You're dead to me.
So I...

Thank you for making me
(thank you for making me)
feel like I am guilty,
(feel like I'm guilty)
making it easy to
(making it easy to)
murder your sweet memory
(murder your memory)

I'm severing the heart line,
(severing the heart line)
I'm leaving your corpse behind...
(leaving your corpse behind)
Not dead but soon to be, though.
(not dead but soon to be)
I won't be the one who kills you,

I'll just leave that up to you.

I'm not gonna be there to revive you.
I'm not gonna be there to revive you.
I'm not gonna be there to revive you.
I'm gonna be the one to say "I told you so".

"I told you so..."
"I told you so..."
"I told you so..."
"I told you so..."
"I told you so..."
"I sold you, so..."
"I sold you, so?"
"I told you so..."
I told you.

Severing the heart line,
("I told you so...")
I'm leaving your corpse behind.
("I told you so...")
Not dead but soon to be, and
("I told you so...")
I'm gonna be the one to say "I told you so".

All of the Known Galaxies in the Observable Universe

We are not only looking across the universe but also back in time, where our notion of physics falls apart and our conceptions of space and time are but a thought. Life itself is but a dream, a vision. Nothing exists except space and you, and you are but a thought.

Eat Your Young

come to me
eat me eat me eat me
fight kill feed
eat me eat me eat me

skin down the spine
eat me eat me eat me
dont foul the blade
eat me eat me eat me

waste not the flesh
eat me eat me eat me
take out the heart
eat me eat me eat me

lay silent, still
eat me eat me eat me
breath not, want not
eat me eat me eat me

curl round the kill
eat me eat me eat me
cry for your steel
eat me eat me eat me

pick out the buckshot
eat me eat me eat me
slide the hand inside
eat me eat me eat me

the wasted gift
eat me eat me eat me
the forsaken prize
eat me eat me eat me

When none is left
eat me eat me eat me
look for the next
eat me eat me eat me

stand behind the throne
eat me eat me eat me
watch your brother die
eat me eat me eat me

stone eyes of fear
eat me eat me eat me
hand of the father
eat me eat me eat me

lift his limp body
eat me eat me eat me
beg for help
eat me eat me eat me

draw the knife
eat me eat me eat me
pull across the throat
eat me eat me eat me

skin down the spine
eat me eat me eat me
don't foul the blade
eat me eat me eat me

eat his flesh eat
me eat me eat me eat
waste not his heart eat
me eat me eat me eat

A Hawk's Breath from Victory

Rapture

"I asked you a question."
The gruff voice brought me back to the table. My mind had been on other things. I was sweating again.
"Are you familiar with the story of Samson?"
He tapped his bible that was on the table. That damned bible. He always had it with him. That and his .45.
"Hell of a fella, that Samson. Killed a thousand men with a jawbone."
Here we go. Another lesson from the good book. My eyes darted about. There had to be a way out of this. I checked the dimly lit room for escape possibilities.
"He murdered even more just over a riddle."
His boot thudded on the floor and he brought his leg down and leaned in.
"Do you think you have that kind of convictions? Would you murder someone over an answer?"
"I'm not much for games."
He smiled a slow smile. His gold teeth glinting in the lamp light.
"That's why I liked you."
He leaned back and took a swig from the Rattler Whiskey on the table. The dead snake in the bottle staring at me with white eyes. It almost looked like the creature was laughing at me, mocking me with an empty stare. At least the snake ended his days in a bottle of whiskey. Wish I could do the same. But first I had to deal with the snake at the table, eying me for a meal. He was the only one that could drink that shit. Made my stomach turn.
"When I found you, I thought I had a regular Samson on my hands. It seemed like there was nothing you couldn't do. I suppose I was wrong. I suppose that's my fault for assuming as much, and for that I apologize."
"You have a 10 gauge to my back and you are apologizing to me? You really are fucked up you know that?"
"Well, you of all people should know, the importance of being honest with another person. That's what got you where you are at this moment. I just wanted to have a clean slate with you before I paint the walls with your insides."
This wasn't good. I needed a plan. Had to keep him talking long enough that the big fella behind me would ease up on that trigger.
"So tell me about this Samson. You said you thought I was like him?"
"What I didn't like about you, however, was your constant belief that you were smarter than me."
He picked up his .45 and thumbed back the hammer. My eyes widened.
"Samson died for his god and his pride. It seems you will have at least that in common with him."
"Now wait a minute. It wasn't--"
The muzzle flash lit up the room for one brilliant second. The two men in the back cringed as my blood and brains spattered all over them. The force sent me backwards in my chair. As I fell my leg hit the table, knocking the whiskey over. The snake in the bottle slid out and hit the floor with a wet plop. He cocked his head a bit and stared at the snake, coiled up near my lifeless foot. He picked up his bible and stood.
"Bury the snake with him."
He holstered his gun and put his hat on.
"The Devil will recognize the both of them."

Samson

I'm a longhaired freak
With a weakness for women
I drink I curse I laugh

I fanned the flames
And kindled the hate
By killing their men and their pride

[break]

I was a god
I had my image
As one who was born of the sun

I am no hero
Fuck their faith
I only wanted their praise

[chorus]
With the jawbone of an ass
I made an ass of them
With the jawbone of an ass
I have killed a thousand men
Out of the eater
Something to eat
Out of the strong
Something sweet

For my pride
They took my hair
As that bitch Delilah laughed in my face

They cut out my eyes
And scourged my flesh
A shadow of the man I was

[chorus]

I slaughtered them
I spit and mocked
Left them for dead for burning my bride

Father-in-law too
Burned for my riddle
Ashes left as the Alter of the Nazarene

[chorus]

I fell from grace
And landed hard
For breaking my oath to my god

Till I gave
My hide to her
Just trying to slake my lust

[chorus]

God
I am sorry I
Cut my hair please
Give me my strength to
Kill them for what they've
Done let me kill them please
Let me kill them please
Let me kill

[break]

So I'll pull the pillars
And break the temple
To give back to my vengeful god

I'll serve him
By serving myself
Over and over again

I am a hero
Murder paves my way
Right up to the pearly gates

It's a Jersey Thing
Tags: SOUTH
PARKRandy Marsh,Eric Cartman,more...

What Does Marsellus Wallace Look Like?

Death Buy Lemonade

Second Sun

Is anyone? How do you quantify happiness? And in relation to what? As a man? As a human? As a citizen? How does anyone who has been cursed with self awareness wake up with out screaming and pissing themselves? How do the happy ignore the bomb dropping in the distance? Is happiness another word for distracted? Do we give up part of ourselves to be happy? Are some of us so desperate to be happy that we crawl on all fours like a dog? Is happy another level of contentment? Or is contentment just a form of tunnel vision? Do we have to put the blinders on to be happy? What do we gain from being happy? Is the physical response enough to live on? Can we quite our thoughts enough to let the endorphins do their work? Are you looking for happiness? Are you looking for a yes or no answer? How long before looking leads to coveting? Is God happiness? Is religion happiness? Is a new outfit happiness? Is getting fucked up happiness?

I could go on and on.. All I have done is pass along what runs through my head every morning before I am even out of bed. It always ends with the same question, "What the fuck am I doing with myself?" To which I respond differently each time, if I even have a response. I haven't yet convinced myself that happiness is a real thing. Humans conventions are so ingrained in us, making us believe that there is inherent qualities to something that doesn't exist. All a person can do, I believe, is examine surroundings and make conclusions. I am in good health, therefore I am happy. I am not crippled, therefore I am happy. I am not starving, therefore I am happy. Suffering always exists but only because we are cursed with consciousness. Resort to the primitive. An animal looks to us and thinks, "All their needs are met and they have no natural predators." If they had a definition for happiness, this would be it. We are bombarded on all sides by things that tell us we are not complete until we buy this or do that or look this way or act this way or believe this or that. FUCK ALL THAT! Do we need others, sure. Do we need Calvin Klein, fuck no.

Ever since we left the caves, built bigger and better implements that cater to our nature and stared into the sun, calling it chicken, we have questioned more than we should. We cast the sacred bones and shake our fists at the gods, calling for a miracle or relying on the microscope to take away the pain. There has been a disconnect from ourselves. We have lost, or never had, the part of our animal selves that keeps the modern man in check.

Primitively. As cavemen, we are kings. Kings set upon thrones of the dead, staring into flickering screens, waiting for some sort of absolution. Our subjects gone, starved or left for better places, our court decaying around us, and still we stare into those screens, looking for validation. On and on and on.

fuckit...

H.

What's coming through is alive.
What's holding up is a mirror.
But what's singing songs is a snake
Looking to turn my piss to wine.

They're both totally void of hate,
But killing me just the same.

The snake behind me hisses
What my damage could have been.
My blood before me begs me
Open up my heart again.

And I feel this coming over like a storm again.
Considerately.

Venomous voice, tempts me,
Drains me, bleeds me,
Leaves me cracked and empty.
Drags me down like some sweet gravity.

The snake behind me hisses
What my damage could have been.
My blood before me begs me
Open up my heart again.

And I feel this coming over like a storm again now.
And I feel this coming over like a storm again now.

I am too connected to you
To slip away, fade away.
Days away I still feel you
Touching me, changing me,

Considerately killing me.
Considerately killing me.
Considerately killing me.
Considerately killing me.
Without the skin here,
Beneath the storm.
Under these tears now,
The walls came down.

And as the snake is drowned
And as I look in his eyes,
My fear begins to fade
Recalling all of those times.

I could have cried then.
I should have cried then.

And as the walls come down
And as I look in your eyes
My fear begins to fade
Recalling all of the times
I have died
and will die.
It's all right.
(I don't mind)
I don't mind.
I don't mind.
I don't mind.

I am too connected to you
To slip away, fade away.
Days away I still feel you
Touching me, changing me,

Considerately killing me.
Considerately killing me and
Considerately killing me.

Torreya; ancient earth

Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul. -John Muir

Again I sit with the same falleness. Man's knowledge lost to time and sin, forgotten dominion over the soil and the sky. I sit in that part and feel the power of the it. My pen in a fury on the paper in front of me, my pulse quickened with the ideas pounding through my veins.

I return. I reuse. I regret.

I am without the fever that possessed me in the wonderful place. It is necessary, NECESSARY, to climb those rocks and speak with those trees. To speak with oneself in that place. That is really what matters. The ability to hear yourself. Remove the rest of the damned human race from your field of view and find the power of solitude.

The gross heathenism of civilization has generally destroyed nature, and poetry, and all that is spiritual. -John Muir

The idea of progress has been so strained by the human race that those of us with common sense become sickened by the very mention of the word. Forward is only a matter of perspective. It is without power.

From My Cold Dead Hands

“Like all artists I want to cheat death a little and contribute something to the next generation.”

–Dennis Hopper

Created by Oatmeal

Improve Everywhere: A New Hope

March

failed, forgetting wars I've won
flesh, whipped and torn asunder
bound and broken from the weight of my throne
scarred and branded

violently the wind whips around
pelted by the rain and fire
marching on to the end of my name
singing loudly the song

hands tied by rage and blood
scars on my leg from these irons
stumble and fall on the dead and dying
bleeding from my mouth

tears of pitch and tears of salt
grit my teeth and fight the welling
rise to meet the dawn of flame
I will not take to pity

grown in fear, grown to hate
grown to endure with skin of stone
disarmed by the fall of kings
cursing lesser men

spitting blood, swearing pain
forward, forward up this hill
hurling death across the sky
don't tell me no

fevered whisper, mind undone
telling me of doubts and failure
trying to unravel the child of anger
lie down with the others

resovled to march, on and on
muscels torn, lungs on fire
on until the end of song
I will not let this wither

grin and bear it on your own
do as you have done before
grin and make it on your own
forsake the false shelter

Sing the song, sing it loud
loose the devils and invite the fire
scream the chorus of discord
let the world end

on my knees at the mountain top
singing resonating still
flesh scorched, will tempered
by the ashes of our fathers

From My Dreams

The Vader Project

Open publication - Free publishing - More philadelphia

The Pleasure of Finding Things Out

I had a nightmare like this once.

Polar Bear

I see you chippin' away again
Your own icicle island
Howling alone, the lies and the bone
Hoping to fade and disappear into the white
A polar bear

A moat of icy water
No end in sight save your own
I know that look of fear, I'm well-aware
No need to brave it all alone
I'll be there

I see you chippin' away again
Your own icicle island
I know that look of fear, I'm well-aware
No need to brave it all alone
I'll be there

Hoping to fade and disappear into the white
A polar

Man; The Death of Determination

Click for the larger, more detailed image. I intend to get this framed.

Smoke, signifying the fire. A Mallet, for the focus and grit. Waiting, asking, praying.

Eyjafjallajokull Time Lapse

My advice is to watch it fullscreen, both for detail sake and also so that the fucking ads don't get in the way.

This is worth the viewing just for the last shot. I am reminded of A Farmer Watching his Land Burn.

Conan; All Kinds of Man

Amidst the screams. Amidst the inane babble. Amidst the crowd of imaginary men.
Judged unworthy. Judged to the core. Judged to fall in the filth of apathy.
Give us more they cry. Give us more they beg. Give us more they demand.
Too much. Too little left. Too late.
Watch the hollow man dance. Watch the hollow man curse. Watch the hollow man love.
Wait. Wait. Oh God, wait.
Pathetic children. Pathetic, without regret. Pathetically they cry.
Where has father gone? Where is mother buried? Where do we piss?
Horrific they are. Horrific is the sound. Horrific is my name.

More Than I Deserve

Dedicated to my friend Karl Sorne who inspires me to write.


Encore, Encore

Dip me in the Styxx like Thetis did her son;
Cover my heel so I can live forever.
Make me immortal.
My scions are heroes and pariahs,
Hawks doves, eagles, buzzards
Eating the meat off ancient bones.
Anoint my head with Coca Cola,
Shine my linoleum floors to brilliant light,
Make my breath sweet like juicy fruit
Kiss my clean-shaven cheek goodbye;
Remember me in megabytes.
As the new man who aged gratefully , and (gratefully)
Who appreciated the nuance of vulgar religion.
Sing to me hymns of praise
In glory I charged the enemy who with fire
Immolated my face and pilfered my simple soul.
Embalm me before I die; replace my blood with beer.
Bury me beneath a new parking lot paved with tar.
Yellow and white lines mark the spot.
Park here but not there or there. Disturb not the dead.
Comb my hair flat, restore my bald spot.
Paint my cheeks with rouge, powder my neck.
Line my eyes with black pencil,
Trim the hair from my nose.
Shave my ears.
I want to look good as the hollow man playing it out
On the greatest stage. A final performance

before an audience of imaginary men who clap

and scream for more.
Encore, Encore!

--Albert Pace

The Problem of Knowledge: An Exerpt

The authenticity of knowledge is a complicated question that has many angles and pitfalls. Throughout the history of the human race, progress has always been looked upon as an upward slope. Scientists and historians will find figures and events in order to validate claims for the present, calling attention to this history as evidence to support their claims. People look back at the path of civilization and attribute inherent qualities to knowledge, viewing the theories that won out as just plain better than those that were dismissed. This view is not only anachronistic but also pollutes the past with the climate of the present.
It is easy for a scientist who is a student of the modern world to look back and claim that Robert Boyle’s theories of experimentation, laboratory and the air pump were inherently better than Thomas Hobbes and his backwards thinking of materialism. However, it is impossible to call any one theory better or worse because these are qualities that humans attribute to knowledge, and, as Shapin and Schaffer discuss in their book Leviathan and the Air Pump, these attributes are inescapably tied to one’s personal, political, social, and religious beliefs. For Hobbes, there is no knowledge that is not political and to pretend otherwise is madness.
When Robert Boyle formulated his ideas on what Natural Philosophy should be, he decided that to worry about causation and origin were pointless, as God had the ability to create an observed effect in many different ways. It was feeble to try and create theories as to the why of things and should fall second to the production of effects in a contained space. In order to do this he came up with an environment that, in theory, would be free of all outside influences. A group of intellectuals would meet and observe an experiment in an effort to prove a “matter of fact”. In Boyle’s mind, this was the aim of Natural Philosophy. Not to concern itself with grand ideas of why or purpose, but simply to prove effects brought about by experimentation. This was the beginning foundation of the laboratory as it is known today. Boyle wanted to use his laboratory and his formation of a vacuum to show that true knowledge can be generated outside of the religious and political realm. He wanted to show that it is possible for people to separate themselves from the personal beliefs in the name of Natural Philosophy. Boyle believed that by limiting Natural Philosophy to these matters of fact, there would be a reduction in the conflict and crisis that would occur. Hobbes could not have disagreed any more.
Thomas Hobbes was a materialist. There was nothing that could not be measured and touched. For him, God was a physical entity that existed somewhere in the universe, just as the soul was an object that could be quantified. From the outset, Hobbes attacked Boyle’s experiments and laboratory because of how far it stayed from what he saw was true Natural Philosophy. He took that air pump that Boyle had developed and pointed out that it could not produce the desired effect, leaking and losing the pressure that would generate the vacuum.1 He used Boyle’s own terminology against him, stating that since the pump could not produce there was no matter of fact.
He used this to tear apart Boyle’s very generation of facts, claiming that the integrity of the experiment as an idea was flawed and could never give any such matter of fact. It was on these grounds that Hobbes stated that Boyle’s methods were not Natural Philosophy at all. 2 All of Boyle’s work, for Hobbes, was also flawed because it relied on the human perception. Hobbes doubted the senses so much that he believed it impossible to actually witness something real. For Hobbes, the laboratory had failed before it began because the witnesses, that would validate the matters of fact, were themselves unreliable. This all further underlined the point that Hobbes repeated throughout his life. Man, in the state of nature, was, and always would be, nasty, brutish and short lived.
For Hobbes, there was very much at stake with Boyle’s methods. Because he was a materialist there could not be such a thing as a vacuum. The fact that something immaterial could exist tore through the core of his beliefs. For Hobbes there was nothing that was not political. There was no such thing as matters of fact. There would never be a laboratory that could separate itself from the outside world. Hobbes only saw this as an avenue for dissention, the thing that he feared the most. Hobbes believed that people could not agree on anything and would eventually turn to killing each other.
For Hobbes it was about staving off disaster and the only way to do that was to have a sovereign, a leviathan, which would have the powers of a god on earth. This sovereign would decide what knowledge was authentic and what was not. Each individual would be free to believe as he saw fit, however there would be a common standard set by the sovereign that all would live by in order to prevent chaos. This was the way things had to be for Hobbes because of intertwining of knowledge with political
and religious beliefs. Boyle responded to Hobbes’ criticism, refining and defending his new found ideas. Boyle tried to construct an image of the experimental process that could withstand the scrutiny of Hobbes and other materialists. He used these attacks as pathways to show how his method could endure the conflict created by dissenting opinions. Shapin and Schaffer point out that Boyle viewed and responded to Hobbes as more of a “failed experimentalist” and not as a colleague that was presenting another way to unveil the mysteries of Natural Philosophy 3.
In doing this, Boyle seems to be barricading himself inside of a fort that he would pass off as inherently superior to Hobbes’ materialism, however it is worth noting the larger role that Hobbes seems to play in the development of what is seen as authentic today. Boyle was forced to adapt to Hobbes’ criticisms and therefore refined the air pump and the experiment. Without Hobbes to counteract and fight against Boyle’s theories, they might have just slipped by unnoticed because of the exclusion of causation and the inability to produce any real matters of fact. By calling attention to Boyle, Hobbes gave the air pump and the experiment the fighting chance it needed to formulate into what we know it as today. This is essence of authentic knowledge and the true process by which humans come to it.
As Hobbes saw it, Boyle’s method did not uncover any ideas of causation and therefore it fell short of what true Natural Philosophy was supposed to be. He saw the Natural Philosopher as kin to the civic philosopher, and although the natural could never be as certain as the civic, there was a correct way to go about the discovery of knowledge that Boyle was straying from. Shapin and Schaffer quote Hobbes in their book as saying, “We cannot from experience conclude … any proposition universal whatsoever” 4. Without causation or explanation of origin, that form of natural philosophy, to Hobbes, is a pointless endeavor.
So where does this lead humanity in the quest for authentic knowledge and who really does have authority to choose what is and is not to be labeled authentic? According to Hobbes, there is no knowledge that is not political. All matters of knowledge and discovery point back to the political machine. The government that is put in place to protect the people from each other should be the source of all authentic knowledge in Hobbes’ point of view. Boyle believed in the society of enlightened thinkers all discerning matters of fact from the experimentation carried out in the isolated environments. He saw the upper class as the witnesses to the world and it was their responsibility to delineate authentic knowledge to the masses. In many ways, the end result of these two solutions is very similar; it only comes back to who has the power to say what is right and wrong. Much in the way Galileo and the church locked horns, Hobbes and Boyle’s biggest disagreement seems to stem from who is given the power to inform the people.
For Hobbes, everyday people could not handle this responsibility. To allow a normal person this authority is to invite dissention into the social system. If a person claims a belief and does not have absolute authority to back it up, others are allowed to disagree with this person. Hobbes saw this as the shortcut to anarchy. People were unable to agree on anything, let alone things as important at authentic knowledge. Hobbes saw Boyle’s method of thinking as only an avenue for other institutions to lay claim to this authority, which by right was the sovereign’s, and this would lead to dissention and civil war.
Boyle proposed that people could, in fact, handle matters of dispute and tried to point to Hobbes’ attack on the air pump as proof. He continued to try and stave off the materialists in his effort to create the perfect vacuum, and, while it did lack a sound structural composition, the witnesses claimed the desired effect was reached. Boyle would suffocate animals inside the air pump in order to prove that there is something that is immaterial, and his witnesses, supposedly from different backgrounds and classes, agreed. Furthermore, by purposefully leaving out any attempt to explain causation, Boyle saw his experiments as divorced from the religious or political implications that came along with it. For Hobbes this did nothing of the sort. In fact, he used it as evidence to the contrary and redoubled his criticism of Boyle and his pointless efforts.
Hobbes saw this as an example of Boyle’s “not real knowledge”. The entire situation was flawed from the start and continued to have problems as it progressed. Hobbes pointed out that his witnesses were not really of different persuasions or backgrounds. All were participating because they believed in Boyle’s method. On top of that, Hobbes doubted the senses so much that the witnesses’ testimonials meant nothing. It was impossible for an individual to discern authentic knowledge with just their site or hearing, hence the need for the true power of the sovereign. This, to Hobbes, was merely people relying on their fallible sensory perception, in order to arrive at a conclusion that had already made before the experiment even took place. In Hobbes’ mind, this further underlined the distrust of the individual and emphasized the need for government.
As previously discussed, Hobbes viewed this air pump as nothing but a window for other institutions to claim authority over knowledge. The leaky, unstable and pointless machine was dismissed by Hobbes because of his materialist beliefs. There was no such thing as vacuum and to try and prove otherwise was a fruitless endeavor, made even more unproductive because of the lack of causation. Boyle was not trying to explain the cause of the vacuum, simply the existence of it, which was the most important and, for that matter, sole purpose of natural philosophy to Hobbes. It is on this point that Hobbes takes the most issue with Boyle.
Simply put Hobbes believed causation was the ultimate goal and Boyle did not. This undermined everything Boyle did. Hobbes would examine the experiment and ask what was the point? Boyle would respond with his “matters of fact”. Hobbes would reply that such a thing cannot exist because of the flawed human senses. Boyle would conclude that “matters of fact” is the purpose of natural philosophy. Hobbes would disagree. Hobbes would not know what to call what Boyle was doing, but it certainly did not have a purpose and even more so it could not be called natural philosophy. However different their methods may have been, both of these thinkers were asking the same question and debating a similar answer. To assign one an inherent quality of being better than the other is to turn a blind eye to what knowledge really is.
This then raises the question of the substance of knowledge. What it is, how humans achieve it and what is authentic knowledge. Hobbes and Boyle would each give their previously stated theories, however these are just their own versions of knowledge. Each man reacts to his experience and adapts to his social construction. Hobbes and Boyle were merely reciting what they knew best because of their social, political,
personal and religious training 5. In this regard Hobbes was right. There is no knowledge that is not political, but it does not stop there. All knowledge that is received by a human being is filtered through these conditions. They will act and react based on these trainings, making it impossible to truly separate the experimentation of life from these constructs. This being the case, it becomes difficult to draw a definitive line around what is authentic knowledge. The present cannot look to the past and point at what is better or worse when it comes to knowledge.
The modern human views the events of history through the individual spectrum of beliefs and conditionings. It is impossible to see the air pump as Hobbes or Boyle would have saw it, just as it was impossible for them to see the importance of their work. The problem of knowledge, the true problem, is that knowledge is an individual experience crafted by the inner workings of the human consciousness. It cannot be shared completely and will never mean the same thing from person to person, this fact is inseparable. All that humans can do is rely on common “matters of fact” in order to interpret the stimulus that bombard the flawed senses every day.
This leads to a conclusion on what authentic knowledge truly is. Just as when Hobbes and Boyle conflicted with each other and as it happens to this very day, authentic knowledge is grown out of the interaction of opposing forces. There is no better or worse, it is simply the sparks that are created when two contrasting ideas come in contact with each other. The product is a fusion of both sides that evolves in order to suite humanity in an attempt at explaining the universe around us.

Horrific

Horrific is my name.. horrific is the sound.. forgotten is the time.. forgotten is the fire.. left to my own devices.. left for fear of wonder.. taken is the mercy.. taken without regard.. forced is the formality.. forced is the compassion.. fellow man be damned.. fellow man can drown.. allow him to feast on his own flesh.. allow the floodgates to open.. ease the blood into the water.. ease is the curse of the new.. cry out for what has NOT been earned.. cry out when what is earned is given.. shake with fear and envy.. shake the hand of your false messiah.. give him your allegiance.. give only what you can take from others.. rob the other of his birthright.. rob me of my peace.. push to let me know you are scared.. push to try and get me to bend.. fall when i push back.. fall into your own filth.. crumble under my scrutiny.. crumble and show the worm of ignorance.. rely on your numbers to help you.. rely on the mob to save you.. bleed and they will turn on you.. bleed when i force your jaw apart.. receive what i give you.. receive the dark god's anger.. choke on the weight of the stone.. choke on the words of lost heroes.. realize the hollow men.. realize the lost generation.. look for the humanity.. look for some sort of sanity.. you will find none.. you will beg for some.. there is none to give.. there will be none for anyone.. cling to your decadence.. cling to your progress.. rape i will call it.. rape without reason or rhyme.. too much is already gone.. too much left without regain.. memory slips from me.. memory that i once treasured.. less and less each day.. less willing to forgive the other.. no more looking the other way.. no more letting it go.. you will be held responsible.. you will answer for your crimes.. consequence will find you.. consequence will open you.. heart torn, still beating the foul reek.. heart without, if you even still have one.. cowardice was your mother.. cowardice feeding your childish impulse.. apathy was your father.. apathy replacing the human in you.. turn from me.. turn away to your parents.. ask them will i stop the pain.. ask them will it be alright.. feel as my lash tears your flesh asunder.. feel as my boot crushes your bones.. beg your parents to stop the pain.. beg them to pull you from the fire.. empty gazes answer your pleas.. empty figures signifying nothing.. they will give you nothing.. they will comfort nothing.. sob as you cry for help.. sob as i twist even harder.. cry out for your mob.. cry for their help in this pain.. watch them cower before me.. watch as they look on from the shadows.. betrayal will serve your thoughts.. betrayal brought from you cowards.. when the flesh is broken and bashed.. when you lay strewn about the ground.. wonder at the loss.. wonder at the light.. glimpse again the forgotten fire.. glimpse the tears of bubbling pitch on my face.. watch my mouth open wide.. watch the song begin.. Horrific is my name.. horrific is the sound.. forgotten is the time.. forgotten is the fire..

Newton's Gift

It was of the greatest consequence for succeeding thought that now the great Newton's authority was squarely behind the view if the cosmos which saw in man a puny, irrelevant spectator of the vast mathematical system whose regular motions according to mechanical principles constituted the world of nature... The world that people had thought themselves living in - a world rich with color and sound, redolent with fragrance, filled with gladness, love and beauty, speaking everywhere of purposive harmony and creative ideals - was crowded now into minute corners in the brains of scattered organics beings. The really important world outside was a world of hard, cold, colorless, silent and dead; a world of quantity, a world of mathematically computable motions in mechanical regularity.

I Won't Pretend to Know What This Is

Irony is a Dead Scene Excerpt

It does not come from the moral scheme that we have developed for ourselves. It is not rooted in any religious tradition. It is out of fear that we reject so strongly capital punishment. If one person can be so easily put to death, then what is to stop the mob from turning on us? All animals are inherently obsessed with self preservation and humans follow this same mold. The only difference between humans and the rest of the animal kingdom is that we are cursed with the ability to think. Humans have the crutch of the conscious. Humans gave themselves the image of God as to set them above the rest of the animals, as if the Creator sits up at night fawning over them. Out of this mess, this twisted creation of consciousness and self preservation, is pulled this fear masked with benevolence, paraded around as good will toward others. Every effort, every endeavor, in fields such as the death penalty, both for and against, is nothing but vanity. Deterrence and retribution are by products, side effects, of this same fear trying to justify itself. It is this reason that allows people to sit at home and watch a man get murdered on live action news while remarking that he got what was coming to him, and still be horrified enough to write their congressman when a convicted rapist murderer is sentenced to death by the courts. Humans are cursed with moral sense, hung like a lead weight around the neck, dragging them to the bottom of the river of fear.

In response to avatar, that piece of shit movie

see but he forgot to mention how this vicarious dream, this existential life, that is coveted by americans today is simply a form of decay that has existed in the heart of man for thousands of years. We americans are not responsible for bringing it to life. We are just the loudest so everyone else shakes their finger at us while stuffing their mouth full of the fat that melts off of our bodies. they gorge themselves on our feces and yet condemn us for existing. man is man is man. he will always rape and pillage and to suffocate that with community and repress it with a naive ideal that we are a people as one is to create this festering society that we live in today. a place of bland, un-necessary boredom that undermines all that sanity and common sense hold dear. and james cameron helps to neuter out what makes us human then laughs all the way to the bank. it doesnt make sense. none of it does. fuck avatar. fuck it right in its multimillion dollar ear. i hope someone forms a cult about this movie and they all kill themselves thinking they will go to pandora, only to be greeted by inky blackness or some form of hell that i can only imagine. kill themselves and clear up the gene pool. let those of us who actually want to live a real life get on with it.

The Dark

Timelapse movie: The Alps -- part II (night) from Michael Rissi on Vimeo.

Bob