Jabberwock

So I haven't written in a while because I haven't written in a while.
Prolific, I know.
More about that later I suppose. So what do I write about today?
Have you ever done Psychedelics? They're quite confusing, let me tell you. But I kind of like that. They don't really ever let you think that you're acting normal.
It's truly bizarre.
A trip or two ago I said to myself: "Every time I do this, I feel like a little bit less of me comes back."
Isn't that a funny thought? Although I suppose people do drugs to erase themselves all the time.
Am I trying to erase myself? And become little eraser shavings?
I fucking love squeezing those things between my fingers. Satisfies me in a sort of archaic way, fulfilling something primal in me.
Like the satisfaction of shooting a pump-action shotgun for the first time. Something in me resonated with that. In that one split second I feel perfectly content. I wonder why that is.
I confess my reason for writing today is someone commenting to me about my blog.
Why? Because attention paid is something gained. Karma and all that.
I'm also writing because I feel like I need to. An itch to scratch, of sorts. There are so few things these days which satisfy me. Maybe taking things a tier up will do it, but I somehow doubt that. At least for long. They talk about this, the need to do something more to achieve the same effect. Maybe it's called ambition. Ha-ha.
Ambitiously trying to destroy myself.
Day by day, brick by brick, these are the seeds I've sown and this is the crop I reap.
I can't say I regret any of it. This is my life, and I've lived it one moment at a time.
Can you say that? I hope so.
Ramble bramble skeet and scramble,
 the debt is paid so mote it be
 by all within the tum-tum tree.

Nonsensicalitizationism.

Again with this? I guess so. I know so. I'm an oso. (Means Bear)
So. It's been a year since I've written anything here.
Why is that?
Because when you have to write for a class, you write something stupid.
You write what you are told.
I don't write what I'm told.
I'm a bad student. Most of us are, deep down. Life's the only real teacher, you know. That's why you can have A's and I can fail my classes and still feel like more of a champion than you. I'm not failing my classes though.
I spend a lot of time on two cans and string. But less than I used to. Why is that, I wonder? Maybe I just have less to say. I feel like before, I could go there and expect something searching, something that required a little from me, like so few things in my life do these days.
I'm writing this post because I'm back.
I have something to say now. I'll never say it directly though.
Or maybe I will, and that will be my way of making you wonder about my blog for the rest of forever.
I don't lie. You'll forget about this in due time.
Everyone does.

Isn't that impressive?
I put something on a new line, and then it sounds stronger.
Wammo!
IMPACT.
It's nonsense. But we need nonsense because so many of the things we do today make too much sense.
So that is my warning. Beware. Nonsense abound.

Finally

So we're all done writing blogs after this. Sweet. I don't honestly think I will keep writing these things. If I had like a cult following, maybe I'd be more inclined to, but I sincerely doubt that.
Sooo... topic... How's about what I learned?
1. Writing about the same thing every two weeks gets just plain annoying.
2. I'm good at procrastinating.
3. I do like to write and to draw.
4. Blogspot doesn't allow you to post pictures
5. Mr. Pinza doesn't actually check any of this stuff.
6. I'm a very strange person.
7. I think I have ADD
8. What was I talking about again?
9. I can count to nine

But on a more serious note, I realize that I got very little to nothing from this posting stuff.
Things like this are only really cool if you have tons of people reading what you write.
Random question: "If a tree falls in the woods, and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"
Answer: Who the fuck cares? Nobody saw it. As far as we know, the tree didn't even fall, and the bastard asking the question is just trying to confuse us. And what goddamned woods are we talking about here? For that matter what is sound? do things cease to happen if nobody perceives them?
So really, if I ever post here again depends on if somebody views me posting here. (SCHRODINGER)
SO YOU DECIDE! Does Kayvon ever post here again?!?
I don't care!
Sincerely,
Kayvon

Now go away

*I asked Pluto by the way. He's more pissed about being a dog than he is about not being a planet
(Startup idea for this post from my girlfriend)

Get up and Fight

[Excerpt from a speech made up in my head]

We haven't fought a war, at least, not a true war.
Because to fight a war you need an enemy. Enemies aren't people. An enemy is someone whose way of life is so different, so foreign to your own that you can't stand to live in the same world as them. Their simple existence is an affront to your own. You don't know about their redeeming features, and you don't want to know: they're the fucking enemy. You can't beat an enemy until they're dead. Similarly, to win a war, you need to cripple the enemy: burn the fields and poison the rivers and salt the land; destroy any chance of them ever being able to retaliate. Make the idea of standing against you so revolting the don't even dare think of it. That, is how you should fight a war. Until you are willing to do this, you cannot win.
So when the president says we're fighting a "War on terrorism" I say that's bullshit. You can't fight terror. It isn't an enemy. Sure, Terrorists can be an enemy, but terrorism itself is an idea. And you cannot kill an idea. Not in the traditional sense that is. You can't salt the fields of somebody else's mind. The only way to fight an idea is to destroy those who believe it. Utterly destroy, at any, and all costs. If you aren't willing to claw flesh, to bite, scratch, to break bones and mangle sinew, you can't win against an enemy who is. Even if you knock him down, your enemy will stand right back up and come after you again.
We can't afford to fence sit. There is no middle ground. There's no "Kind of" fighting a war. You either Fight with all you've got or you give up and let your enemy walk all over you. But if you can't decide, if you can't stand up for yourself, lend your power to somebody who can.
Give the power to me, because I can.

*You know, Pluto must be SO SAD that it isn't a planet anymore :'(

Ten Letter Word

This post is a bit of a tangent. I might be able to relate it at the end or something. But this started with a pair of questions that nagged me due to some things that have been happening in my life:
What is Perfection? Why is it so desirable?

I'll start with the first. Perfection seems like another perspective thing. Completely subjective in all ways. You might think that perfection is the best possible outcome, no? But isn't the worst possible outcome also perfect? To quote my summer school math teacher "People aren't perfect. Only the prophets and God are" So of course, this supposed Jesus character would've been perfect, right? Because he could do no wrong? His actions never compromised his beliefs, that's why he was perfect. So in turn, isn't the Devil perfect? Wouldn't Lucifer be considered just as perfect as the prophet of christianity? But generally, he isn't. So subjectivity rules the concept of perfection.

As for its desirability. We all strive for perfection, sure, but do we really want to get there? To me, perfection is death. There's nothing left to do, no improvements to be made, no obstacles to overcome. You're done, you might as well die, because anything that you do after perfection is empty. Imagine how boring that would be! To never be able to do anything new! and imagine how lonely that has to be! And imagine the eternal anguish that would befall you if you slip. Everything you had done previously, all your perfect creations, would haunt you, an empty husk of your former self. It goes back to dying. After I got perfect, I think it would kill me to live in fear of regression.

But, thankfully, none of us are perfect. It's the act of working towards achieving perfection that gets you points.
So approach perfection, but never achieve it.

For perfection is emptiness, and emptiness is death.

In Terms of Ease

Today is revelation day! YAYY!! but not really. I just was thinking about what to write and I noticed I was goofing off. From this I have learned:

A: I'm really good at procrastination
B: That's not a good thing.
C: Youtube has some REALLY weird stuff on it.

Aside of this I've noticed my tendencies for work. I like to put things off; to wait until the last minute, and throw crap together. Usually it ends up pretty good. But sometimes it's barely a percent of what I can do. I don't really like to work hard at something, or do any planning whatsoever. Sure, I can appreciate a day of hard work, but honestly, sometimes I'd rather sit down and do NOTHING. To sum all that up in a sentence:
I'm really fucking lazy.
So what do I do? How does one defeat laziness? I've no great answer for you. For me, I just gotta convince myself I want to do it. Easy, no? Well not really very easy at all. Who in their right mind wants to do math homework at 4:59 in the morning? Not me, and I'd guess not you either. But then, who really WANTS to do math homework?
Where does that leave me? Doing things I like. For example: Drawing. Funnest shit ever. When I draw I can go for hours on end, just scribbling and erasing and crafting the perfect image. (No, nothing I do is ever PERFECT) {Got an idea for my next blog now, HURRAH!} But it's a little more complex to write for hours on end. I can do it, but it's more... rare. Think of artistic talent as gas in your car. Doodle through class, minus a gallon. Paint a picture, minus four. Write for an hour? You're out of Gas there buddy, and your wallet fell out the window. Come back tomorrow.
And for writing it's not like you can say "Okay, I've got a full tank, I'll make it". Sometimes it's raining and your tires pop. Sometimes your computer explodes into tiny little pieces and you lose everything. Sometimes it's sunny and you have just enough gas to make it to where you wanna go.
I can occasionally force the words to come out, but it isn't like when they want to come out. Think of a cat. They can sit around all day, and, for some, you can poke and prod them and they might shoot you a withering look. But as soon as they want to be gone: "Beep beep" they are road-runner GONE. Same thing with writing, for me. The words can sweep me away or I can drag them along. Recently, it's been more the dragging. I need to write. Maybe I will tonight?

Anyway, these blogs are kind of... pointless. So for those of you that actually read mine, thanks for listening to my blathering, AGAIN.

Medium

In some delusional half-insane dream I had the other day, I came to an important realization about myself.

I already know that Art is my calling in life. It doesn't matter much which medium it is: paint, ink, pencil, writing, poetry; I do it all. But what I came to realize in that dream, and what certainly holds true in reality, is that there are FAR more mediums than the ones I do (I have NO musical talent whatsoever). There's one medium that stands above all others though. And that medium is Creation.

Think about it. I can draw ALMOST anything I could think of. I can paint almost anything I can think of. But what do I have when I've done that? I've created a picture of something. But not the actual thing. To be able to CREATE what I see, now that would be something! To come up with an object and hammer and fold it into existence, THAT WOULD BE ART!

That's what I love about art! it's the compilation of things that weren't there before! But If I could CREATE my own things, create energy and mass, well, what I could do would be limitless.
But alas, I cannot do that. I am no God. But I don't want to be a god. I just want to be the Genesis (Yes, I believe they're separate entities)

Ah, but Humans are so limited. Whatever though, I have something new to add to my list of things I wanna be when I grow up. I wanna be an author, artist, or a creator.