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Logbook ( page 1 )

Odes to my coy mistress. Metaphysical poetry updated weekly. New entry

Isle Of Bones

written by owen, 5 days ago

First day of my Christmas vacation was spent washing shirts so that I do not have to wash them when I come back. I have to avoid addictions, especially things that consume resources. I have to spend time away from it all. It does not help that the auto parts dealership across the road has been playing music the entire day. I have to clear my head and organise my holiday projects that I will attempt to finish - unlikely, but one must always keep striving for a better self - for completion.

A flood of 2017 Soca has once again graced my stereo. Will I spend another year listening to a hundred songs until I narrow down my list of favorites. Sometimes my focus gets the better of me. It is never as good as the first time. I will compare everything to 2015 because that is my reference point. A point of reference is like a corner stone.

Most things do not matter to me. The foolish wants of the inconsiderate. The whims of impatience. I have no time for temporary desires that sway back and forth like waves hitting the shoreline. There is precious little time in which you have to do the things you need to do. How you view the world and how the world views you are separate things. If you choose to stay inside your own box and cast your view onto the world and let it reflect that is your choice - you are only limiting you self by constantly asking the wrong questions.

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Ride Like The Wind

written by owen, 7 days ago

Sometimes you can guess what I am up to but most times I am trying not to count my eggs before they hatch. Waiting in the tall grass. Of course there is nothing wrong with counting your eggs early but hope flies like a dove on the wind. Before long you will be dreaming of what you would do with all that money you win in the lottery.

Trigger words: eventually how you sound will be the only thing that people use to relate to each other on the internet. If one can maintain the cadence and are so fluent that they can become the physical embodiment of other people's worst nightmares - images painted on the wall of their mind - a sort of VR world running in parallel with reality. I am writing a script for a cyber punk movie called "safe space". its going to be awesome.

Fear is a special feeling. Often uncontrollable like wind that follows you continuously swirling up and down the inner regions of your mind. Enclosed inside your skull. I think people need a outlet for their fears which is why we watch movies which are inflated versions of reality and look for bogeymen under our beds. Eventually the wind will engulf you and you and your fears will become one person. Let go.

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Redemption Song

written by owen, 2 hour ago

Money comes and goes. Either you have it or you survive as best you can and as long as you can without it. There are not enough resources in the world to fulfill the wants, needs or desires of every single person. You are not special. If there are 10 people in the room 2 of them are likely to be murderers or thieves. We all just ants in an ant hill trying to survive until the sun explodes. Pride comes before the fall.

It is often hard to differentiate between what we need and what we want. Everything is a soup of data, monkeys and configuration. The things we want will cloud the things we need like musical ringtones when you call a phone - who needs to hear music while you wait someone to pick up? ANSWER THE PHONE! You are wasting my time.

I bought some airfilters online. It cost me the same amount in taxes just to clear it at customs though cheaper than buying a plane ticket and flying to England to get them myself. Everything is slowly moving towards choas - especially cars. Cars are like your favourite cheesecake - it goes bad look at it for too long BUT you will have none to eat later if you eat it too quickly. There is some median rate at which you should eat cheese cake and still be able to enjoy it but I have yet to discover it.

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Extreme Ways

written by owen, Tue, 15th Nov

Everyone appears to live in their own special version of the world. A world in which there is a constant need to re-affirm, to be part of the good group - social justice warriors. Somethings you have to let go in order to live. Eventually everything melts into one or two streams of thought, battling each other in a war which both sides end up losing. This would be simple if it were just one world but the more you know - the older you get - the more sides you see. We are constantly battling between different sides of a complicated shell that you cannot see. Until you pull the earth around you and make it your bed. At which point nothing matters.

There is a point where no one can agree on anything because their view is rooted in their own experiences or things they hear - there is no big picture. No substance of reality. No monkey in the tree. It is all the sound of leaves coming from the mouth of someone that heard them. How much tooth paste should you put on your toothbrush? Are your teeth absorbing calcium? Is toothpaste merely a foaming agent? Are toothpaste advertisements purposely making me use more toothpaste so that I buy more? Are you building a ship to wreak upon the shore?

In the end it might not matter. It might be a case that we are just flying though space hoping that we survive long enough to actually achieve something significant. Interesting times. You think of the worst things in the world, things that you are afraid to even utter; then you step back and you will see that it is really not that bad at all.

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Anthem

written by owen, Wed, 05th Oct

The things that I do not "like" keep me on a path. Control is a strong word. I would rather say they are the rudder that guides my ship. No regrets.  Some people like ice cream even though it makes them sick. I am the kind of person who would find a better alternative than icecream so that I can redirect my efforts towards something less likely to kill me. Why torture yourself with barriers and wants?  I am not one to make excuses but I will avoid.   What I cannot avoid permanently I carefully build a tower around.‎ It is not personal. I am not a flower waiting to blossom.

‎Some people spend their time trying to separate ‎themselves from themselves. Searching for something to hold onto. Trying to go platinum with no features. I have realized long ago that I am apart of the big machinery of life. It is more apparent as I get older that we are retracing the steps of our fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers.   We are the sum of the things we give away.

I have come up on another challenge.  I can only imagine that I will overcome it at some point and be able to look back and not remember how it all happened because I forget at times. Minor details about the small steps that you take are hard for me to document or keep track of. Like a monkey swinging from tree to tree won't remember every leaf or branch that passes by. Quick thinking and reflexes or fall to your death. Pride goeth before destruction.‎

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