In Which Joshua Rekindles Old Friendships and Becomes a Pasionate Revolutionary

Where do your feelings end, and what people want from you begin?
That came out more bitter than I intended. I m not implying that people around me are demanding and intrusive. What I really mean is that sometimes I don't know whether I really do feeel a certain way or if I am convincing my self I do to fulfill a certain expectation. I am scared it may characterize my dealing with the matter romantic. I can't really recall a time i ever had an unrequited crush. Is the only reason i fall in love that someone loves me, and i do not have the strength of character to resist that kind of affection and affirmation of my personal worth? i hope this is not the case. i feel as though i am progressing closer and closer to a more independent state of emotions every day, though, and especially with every romantic interaction. My current relationship (which i won't blab about here, thank you) is definitely a big step forward for me, as this is the first time i have ever made the "first move." I think that, ideally, if one loves another, he should be willing to express that love in whatever way he can. If his intended is not willing to involve herself romantically with him at a present time, he should be just wanting to spend quality time with her, and for now, that should be enough. Therefore, I promote the idea of maverick emotions! not caring what the world thinks! let us feel what we shall feel, because we feel it!

on a more pragmatic note, i am very happy to be deepening my relationship with my friend Alex. We were friendly before, but we didn't realize how well we got along til we missed each other. it's a nice ending to a weird post.

please discuss this idea, i you feel the pulling at your intellectual groin...
and welcome aboard Mark. your slavic sensibilities and impeccable dressing will be a wonderful asset to this blog.

peace,
~josh

next! getting in touch with your inner snob

My Award Winning Kilmer Poem (Hah!)

(For Mrs. Henry Mills Alden)
or: deep thoughts on laundry
or: repeating random nouns and then attaching that same noun to some profound emotion is comedic gold, the gold of joy.

Ahhhhh the taste of victory
I always imagined it would taste more like tiramisu
Or a cinnamon rugelach
Or the salty elixir squeezed from the saturated uniforms of the victims
Of my ring of white slaves.

Riding the roller coaster of love creates within my bosom
This pleasant buzz in my
Nether regions (the auxiliary nether regions I keep in my bosom)
Like if one were to sit on a blender
A blender of joy
Set on the puree
of bliss.
In my heart are the sprites of happiness and their laughter
Warms my cockles as only true love can
True love and microwave burritos.
Happy and bright:
Like the sun shining on the faces
Of my ring of white slaves.

While sitting on the dryer, I begin to
Meditate about death and the innate absurdity of life.
There is no hope and love is false, I cry
As I weep into the snuggles,
The snuggles of despair.
Like the despair that gives me joy that makes me curious that bit the dog that ate schroedingers cat
And killed god
when I see it on the faces
Of my ring of white slaves.

In deep thought, I return from the Laundromat of my soul
Where I pick up the blazer of my spirit and the khakis of my heart
And the afghan of despair
I realize:
I hardly knew my soul at all.

And he is Korean.

-jss 11/17/04

THE SENSATIONALIST MANIFESTO

The Sensationalist Manifesto

We declare that we are multitudinous in approach! We assume the role of many, the mind of the massive. We are tapped into the pulse of planet Earth, and we are only beginning to dig in our fingernails.
We believe in ideas and do not hold by beliefs. We are willing to defend what we believe (for the minute) to the death. We are willing to change any of our minds. We are desirous of having them blown.
We think the world is a macro-organism. We consider the emergence of a super-perspective. We know that brain cells communicate across a gap called a synapse, but nonetheless, they pass on information. We think we are neurons on a global scale.
We believe words only chip away at the truth. We think the truth is asymptotic. We recognize the inherent flaws in verbal and written communication. We consider words to be extensions of the ego. We love them anyway.
We believe in the truth of the singular experience. We think that numbers lie. We search for the kernel at the heart of subjectivity. We believe that everyone can understand anything, but not everything. We are eternally astounded.
We are vigilant for morsels of meaning. We see life as a canvas. We are blind artists with paint
All
Over
Our
Hands.
We see beauty in the fields and in the city. We search and we search and can not find the unnatural. We believe in consistency and artificial authenticity. We think evolution is the only measure of time.
We are becoming more and more convinced that we are nothing and everything all at once.
As above so below.
As above so below.
As above so below.
As above so below.
As above so below.
We think we are right. We know we are wrong.
We will accept the voice of one. We revel in the voices of the many. We resist the voice of the masses. We believe we exist to transcend. We think we are only just beginning.
We believe we can do anything if we try real hard. We inject new meaning if we say it with feeling. We correct punctuation as vigilantly as we check our facts. We think a misplaced comma can destroy the world. We believe it can be created again.
We believe in the energy. We believe in the verve. We believe sincerity is a virtue. We believe in feeling everything until it hurts. We believe we can separate ourselves from anything. We believe the truth is too great to be a weapon. We believe it is like shooting the president with dark matter, the space between stars.
We believe everything until we are proven wrong. We believe in Nothing, as a state of mind. We believe You can change our minds. We believe in You.

country music, self reliance, preacher and other sources on how not to be a bitch

Listening to so much good country has made me appreciate the cowboy so much more. and the outlaw. so i have been seeking out bill hicks videos/cds (the avenging cowboy of stand-up) and the following:

I recently re-read the excellent comic book series "Preacher" by Garth Ennis and Steve Dillon. It is a hyperviolent on-the-road book about a preacher who is possessed by the innatural offspring of an angel and a devil. He gains the power of the Word of God, decides he must take the deity to task for all the suffering in the world, and sets out to kill God. The plot is fun and all, but what made this series really hit home for me was the (some would say old-world) philosophy behind the book and the charcters within. Jesse Custer is the protagonist, and he is constantly accompanied by a psychological projection that seems an awful lot like John Wayne, helping him endure. The book exhorts us to stand up for ourselves and be real men as it were. You have to be one of the good guys no matter what cuz there are too too many bad guys around. No matter what. You need to stand by your friends and never indulge in self pity. I realize that all this seems to have been disproved by the advent of the "sensitive man," but the more i look at it, the longer i see that type of guy as a dangerous sham. He is merely an excuse to indulge in one's worst traits, ones that only hurt himself and others. Recently i had this purging session with a friend and realized how freaking stupid and unproductive self-pity is. It is a disease and an alluring suck-hole, drawing us in. It's scarily attratcive to believe you are an eternal victim and not in control of at least a modicum of your destiny. I guess this is why i have this visceral reaction to the idea of a psychiatrist, and i refuse to even consider the idea of therapy, even though so many people do it now. i will solve my own problems or not at all. Being this kind of guy (the cowboy, as i see it) is not synonymous with shutting people out or not being in touch with your feelings or being a misyogynist. "Preacher" deals with this by giving tulip the most gunslinging role in the book and having her ultimately defeat jesse's arch nemesis while jesse lies dead in the dust. And by the end, jesse cries. he is a compleat man, one i want to be. He sees wrong and he combats it no matter if it is him against the world.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

peace,
~josh

here we go!

Man, no one seems to appreciate country music. I mean i come from the east anyway, and the northeast at that. I go to school now in that most urban of urbanities, thee city of new york, where classes in detached irony and smugness are required. Not only that, but in attending an "ivy league" school (well, kind of...) one must not indulge in such categorically sincere and patriarchal rot. When did it become a crime to mean something through and through? i appreciate irony very much (without i would be even less funny...) but with only irony, life devolves into this husk of semiotic self-referencing and disscociation. Irony has its good points: it's funny and helps us put personal issues into perspective; it leads to a non-triumphalistic perspective, a non-chauvanistic idea structure. But at what cost? why do we stop caring about things? Is it because the afore-mentioned perspective has diminished all issues to miniscule points on our teliological canvas? Why can't we live in a balance of recognizing our possibility of error and gradiose posturing, but still throw in that effort of inserting our emotional involvement into everything we do?

i think we can. and that's why i listen to country music.

more on what i have learned from country music in my next post.

peace,
~josh