(Don’t worry. Video will stop at the 4:19 mark)
So it seems we’re meant to die
I had to figure it out; “it’s the best,” no, that’s a lie
Had to get some stuff off my chest, I vaporized
High on my own, it took time to realize
Because the internet, mistakes are forever
But if we fuck up on this journey at least we’re together
Man, I wish I could go back and tell that kid it’s make-believe
Make ’em believe in themselves, people who needed my help
Feelings I felt, keeling myself –CHILDISH GAMBINO “Life the Biggest Troll“
Doctors and nurses are the original trolls. If a cemetery was a audience they would be their laugh track as they watched them worked inside of a hospital. I remember this one time while sitting passenger side alongside my mother, I rolled down the window while passing some little kids and said: “One will become a stripper!”. I was probably wrong. But, then again I was probably right and will be seeing one of those girls in the future when my balls start to resemble Bill Cosby’s face in 2015. I really do hate Comcast cable with a passion. Maybe more so than a certain race hates seeing movies made to profit off of one of the original real life Twitter troll pages in Hitler’s following. I seen nothing wrong with what Kendrick Lamar said in Billboard magazine last year.
Hell, I see nothing with what racist people say most of the time anyway. Not that Kendrick is racist but, basically, you can’t cook food without fire or some kind of heat. Right? I remember when I was a little kid sitting on my mother’s bed and said “I hate Chinese people”. It was random and made no sense whatsoever. My mother corrected me and said that was wrong and that I should learn never to say anything bad about another race just for the hell of it. I am afraid of getting old. Not because of dying (That’s a lie) but, because, I know when I do, I will then have to be vulnerable and force myself to let go and have people help me. Problem is, will there be people helping me, or, people just doing their job to make sure they get a paycheck? It can go bad or good in that sense. The movie “Misery” is a underrated scary movie
I remember I had this, idk, weird sexual idea that involved peanut butter and a woman’s breast when I was younger. I thought I was weird and was going to end up needing help as if I was crazy. As I grew up though and found out about the different fetishes in life, I felt like I was in the arrested development section of kinky. The kindergarten of sex if you will. I remember this one girl telling me she wished she never would of had her baby. My “social contract” response was suppose to be one of anger and shock that someone could say something so, idk, not in tune with the “reality” I was raised to believe in when it came to parents and their unconditional love of their kids. Instead, I understood.
At times, I wished my parents had passed on earlier in life. Its like kids who are young and go through a divorce, versus, older kids who go through a divorce. They say the young kids can handle it more because they really aren’t “In the moment” about the reality of what is happening. The older kids are. They have, “Sold out” spiritually wise and are “Grown up” to know what is going on. Hence why I wish I was a kid when they pass on so I wont have to deal with the moment of arranging a funeral and visiting their grave. Or, talking to their ashes. I use people for things sometimes. I pretend to care only because I can gain something out of them in the end. If they had nothing I wanted I wouldn’t really care about them or what their life was about. No, on second thought, I think its “All the time” not “Sometimes”. Giving a homeless man a dollar makes me feel like I am getting closer to having a better spot in the line to get into heaven. Heaven. I still believe even though at the same time I don’t. I am the ocean
RANDOM I KNOW. The paragraphs above on the surface make no sense whatsoever, and doesn’t really connect with the next sentence after the last. Its just, a bunch of scattered thoughts that resemble the aftermath of a large gathering from a park filled with broken and cracked red white and blue items from a 4th of July party. Thought confetti sprinkled in the air that seem to never stop falling as if it was tossed off a building in New York City slowly while landing on the streets, sidewalks, and the outfits of those people that walk by. “Word vomit” like the phrase coined by the surprisingly informative “Mean Girls” movie fills up the metaphorical toilet that is this blog post in which struggles to flush due to being back up and requiring weed and pussy in the form of a plunger. Hmm. Interesting. I never wrote or seen the word “Plunger” before. I always used the item but never really seen the word of it. CRAZY ENOUGH, I knew how to spell it despite that fact of never having to use it any time I ever had to write something in life. RANDOM BUT,TRUE. As such as that sentence is about the word “Plunger” which I just literally thought of in the moment as I write out this new post for you to read. The end result of a tornado and its effect on the houses that got caught up in its chaotic rage paints a perfect picture of how this post is starting to feel. It makes no sense yet at the same time makes perfect sense. TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN. Like a Pornstar who is also a mother in real life who visits PTA meetings as fathers (And some mothers) look on deep in thought and memory about their late night sessions with her.
Its all connected when you look from the simplicity of viewing it from the ego point of view. It looks like a “Fly on the wall” peek inside of my room around the time that I am opening my closet or a junk drawer to fill both of them up with more “stuff”. Stuffed clothes and papers from 3 years ago all crowding around bunched together, like staring inside of a trash bag full of leftover food, plastic cups, stained paper plates, and paper towels covered with spit and the color of one of the meal dishes from that week. My thoughts look like this on a daily basis as I get older and move away from the fantasy of being a kid happily trapped inside the colorful ignorant world of Disneyland. MY BRAIN IS A DICTIONARY FULL OF WORDS and their concepts connected to past, present, and future events. A spider web if you will, with me playing the role of a spider, and my food, playing the role of information. I wanted to turn this fact off in my brain and just stop thinking so much. Yet, “Not thinking” is the same as doing something. I wanted to split the ocean in two parts and fill them up in water bottles like I discussed here and here, and place my thoughts away in a freezer until I felt like playing with them. “PROSTITUTION FOR MY BRAIN” sounds like the best way to describe it. I wanted to reach zero as soon as I started to search for the “Truth”. I was on a rollercoaster and somehow wanted the ride to stop and turn back around so I could get off the ride and leave. However, at every turn I found myself starting to realize THERE IS NO ESCAPE from…this. There is no other place beyond THIS. I was basically trying to blink without seeing black. Listen to music while being deaf. Trying to see my eyes without using a reflection. And looking for Zen without first looking at myself.
Essentially what I am saying and talking about has nothing really to do with the random 4 paragraphs above that started this post. What I am speaking on is, when it comes to life, I don’t think I am alone when saying my thoughts are no different than yours. Meaning, we as a whole from all races and genders are basically sharing one large house together, and are under the ILLUSION OF SEPARATION because of our own rooms we have (The self). We all share one closet of thoughts but are acting like we are all on different paths when it comes to this maze of life which, has the SAME ENDING for each and every one of us. The Joe Rogan video I used from last week’s post towards the end is both funny, and not funny when you really think about it long enough. Everybody has questions but nobody really has any answers other than our bodies need to eat, sleep, shit, piss fuck, and reproduce. I use to CRITICIZE THE BIBLE a lot when I was on my search for truth but, now, in a positive way, I see it as a magazine for the waiting room that is earth until our name is called. Meaning, every concept, ideology, religion, past and present events, philosophies, arguments, fights, etc are merely just magazines for us to read until we are buried and left to rest with the winners at the finish line.
And if that is the case, WHY ARE WE COMPETING to see who has the best magazine when it came from the same room? Why are we fighting to take the wheel when we are all carpooling towards the same destination? And, yes. I know last week’s post contradicts with the current post you are reading now this week. I am glad about this. Contradiction is everything. Trying to avoid it or shame someone for it is treating life as if you are going to the beach to build a sand castle with some friends, and judge who had the better material to create their castle. Trying to kill contradiction in life is like staring out through your eyes and trying to decide what is the greatest color of all time. Or, listening to your iTunes on shuffle mode and trying to figure out a pattern to it. WE ARE BOTH THE INTERNET, AND THE USER OF THE INTERNET. Information as is the internet (Is there a difference?) is infinite, yet, we are only able to view this creation of our own doing through open tabs online on the computer. Now, I hate to detour off topic (No I don’t) but, I must admit, that is a pretty a great quote if I do say so myself. Yuck. Damn. Apologies, I had to let my ego gloat. Hm. That rhymed as well. I guess my old days of wanting to be a rapper are starting to creep up again. Hmm. Fuck it. Perfect segway into the next paragraph then.
I was inspired by the above video featuring a interview with Childish Gambino from a few years back. I also used the video for a link in last week’s post and, I always kept that small tibit in the back of my mind of what he was speaking on when it came to us humans as a whole from a universal BIG PICTURE PERSPECTIVE. The fact that we in this moment in time are not “The ones” and are merely just stand ins in this movie called “Life” until the next crop of babies grow up and come and take our spot sent a sort of, uncomfortable yet thoughtful cold chill down my spine. Well, no it didn’t. I just wrote that for effect to paint a picture in your head. More jokes again. Kind of like the small RUNNING JOKE of me recently using a lot of Childish Gambimo videos for intros to my post. Again, I never really plan out my posts. I just, write in the moment and see where my mind takes me so, for this to all together and complete a puzzle I was not trying to build, while also becoming in tune with the theme of this latest post is kind of, WEIRD YET, STRANGELY COOL.
Point is, my constant use of his videos resemble a constant circle. A circle we are all apart of. A “Tragic portrait of an artist tortured Trapped in his own drawings” to quote Eminem’s “Bad Guy” song. Like his video “3005” visually explains with the ferries wheel and how it relates to life. THIS IS HOW I SEE THE WORLD. This is what I mean with this post. We are all renting a apartment and assuming we own the house. The people from past photos you view that are in black and white are no different than us. Their first witness of a color TV was the same as our witness to the internet. Information is Rugrats. It never grows up and becomes stable, safe, and mature. It remains a ignorant snot nose kid and continues to test the waters despite warnings of not being allowed to. We are the result, and the beginning, of the forgotten sacrifice of the dead and its future. WE ARE THE HORSES ON THE CAROUSEL FOREVER SPINNING IN A CIRCLE. I am starting to believe the inventors of the colorful kid’s ride were inspired by scientists once they found out the Earth spins and also revolves around the sun.
I named this post “Fashion Slaves of the Carousel”. I had just came up with the name three days ago when this post was suppose to be released. Instead again, I became lazy and lost in my own thoughts about that title. AGAIN, ANOTHER LIE. I mostly was just lazy and tired from dealing with work, family, and women. But, that title and its concept did float around my mind. Its a interesting title that lead me to conjurer up a concept to it. CLOTHES ARE FOR EVERYONE. Everybody has clothes or, more so, clothes as is death has no racism, sexism, classism, or whatever other “Isms” you can think of. This is the same as a hit song, movie, or TV show. Its power as I spoke about HERE lies in its ability to play the background and let the audience become lost in the story or song as if it was about him or her. This is also life. EVERY CONVERSATION YOU HAVE, every movie you see, every book you read, every job you, every fight with your girlfriend or boyfriend you partake in, every food you eat, every game you play, every kinky sexual contrapment you find yourself, whatever, all resembles the concept of clothes.
THIS IDEA OF US being the inventors of money to buy and compete for this same things we also ourselves created is… maddening. WHAT FORCE IS HOLDING US BACK from seeing each other as one family? Call it corny and que the “Full House: I learned a lesson at the end of the episode” theme music. I don’t blame you it does sound corny but, logically just for a second think about that. What are we really doing? I don’t want to compete for meaningless roles and titles. I have no desire to fight you or step on your toes to reach this WWE championship like belt in a match that is always predetermined anyway. I want to now do my best to make clothes. I want to make a hit TV show. I want to create warm water with these posts, conversations, discussions, philosophies, ideas, or whatever other creative outlet I can find. We are all Fashion Slaves of the Carousal. The internet at any time can become the switch to turn this ride off. In a time in which information is king, how are leaders and bosses still relevant? The internet and social media made everyone see they are a star. The death of the celebrity will not be televised
In closing, I said in my last paragraph I was being lazy about finishing this post. Its why its been the most latest I ever took to release a post. I honestly we procrastinating and not really into it last week but, also at its core, another reason was because I just didn’t feel like chasing truth for a bit. Mainly, I was rereading my old posts of recent weeks and started to see a pattern form. I started to see that I was talking about the same thing over and over when it came to my new found love (And hate. Kidding but not kidding) of Zen. I started to see I was GOING IN CIRCLES and reaching to close to a very empty truth. The way in which it became hilarious once I thought about the fact that there is a number, word, definition, and concept for the number “Zero”. Point being, I wanted a break from this REPETITIVE ride and went LOOKING FOR AN ESCAPE. I wanted to find paradise in the form of women, family, movies, music, whatever. I wanted to run away and not deal with this search of truth that I now regret taking a journey on to begin with. I wanted to borrow the remote from Adam Sandler in the movie “Click”. Yet, as good as that sound it was not possible. It never will be. There is no OTHER PLACE to go. There is no magical “Avator” like planet to visit and live on. Where I am, where you are, where everybody is, is the only place. I say that not from a depressed point of view but, more so, from a enlighten one. Looking for a way off this ride that we are slaves to is a waste.
Life is not a water bottle but more so a ocean. Both good and bad live in the same house. We are trapped by these old ideas which were great for survival reasons for the past and also the present but, its selfish to just keep REPEATING THE SAME MOVEMENTS and bring a kid in this world to follow suit and wrap a chain around his neck to match ours. Its like when Kanye West said he was upset that Steve Jobs died with his ideas still in his head. Who knows what kind of new invention we could be using now had he not written it down and passed the information off to someone else. What if people from the past had a idea that could of been changed the way we lived but, due to not being able to have a outlet to express him or herself that idea died with him. If not for Steve Jobs and his assist in helping making the internet useable, how many more ideas now in this day and age would of never had a big helping hand in being seen? ITS ALL CONNECTED. We are all connected now online. INFORMATION IS THE NEW GOD and we are its creator, observer, and participant. PARADISE IS ALREADY HERE. Its just up to us to realize this. I wont see the world change to the point that money becomes a played out concept like CD players. But, at least I can do my best in helping that idea push forward so the next kids can give it a try. We are Fashion Slaves of the Carousel. But we are not Fashion Slaves of our ability to dream. And……… that’ s all folks. I started this post with Gambimo so, I might as well end it with him by using the same video I had used in this post here a few weeks back. Weird how things come together. This last video explains what he would be doing if he wasn’t a entertainer. Its the perfect answer and ending for this latest post. Until next time.