9/25/2024

Three months later and everything in my life is different, for the better, I would wager. I think about everything sometimes. I bubble up with fierce anger just long enough to realize that people are flawed, and sometimes people try their best and still fail. I still pray for everyone who's wronged me or misunderstood me. I try to avoid casting judgment that would be better off left to God's jurisdiction. I have people who love me, I'm doing well in school, and things are moving forward with my life. I don't think about it often, but a part of me hopes in the afterlife everyone can have a good chuckle when all the intentions become transparent.

I've travelled all over the world now! It's bizarre to think I've been so far away from home. People call me brilliant a lot at uni and it does feel nice to at least seem competent. I hold much fondness in my heart.

6/12/2024

I'm tired. My feet have the worst blisters, but I keep walking anyway. I'm not really sure what I'm looking for but it serves as a good distration from the perennial anguish. I don't write anything well. I don't think beautiful thoughts, either. Nonetheless I know how to observe. I want to be anchored in love and leave higher thought to those more qualified for it.

"in every step i was shaping myself, i had became a man with each one, died too, and it all meant so much to me, the moving of the frames"

6/9/2024

writing this from my mountain hostel north of barcelona. my friends dragged me 12 miles yesterday on an hour of sleep, but i just slept for like 12 hours so I'm sure i'll be fine. I've been having quite a good deal of fun on the trip but the only thing I worry about at all is the financial aspect. I miss ****** too. I like listening to Emmenez-moi and sitting in the sun by the waves but I would also like to give some kisses to a beloved.

5/31/2024

Good God how ruthless agonies can burn

can sear with the echo of nothing

can rip the flesh without a touch

can make matter of men and as little as such

Good God how wings sprout from fertile streams

from the dead seas of our youth

how the Lord lives in the marrow

and love our only sooth

Europe in four days. I'll be gone for a month and a half. A part of me is of course excited, and another knows that no matter where I go, I am still a reactive agent given various stimuli and the grounding force is still a sense of "me" and a sense beyond my mere material condition. Love and God follow me everywhere; everywhere is tainted by their torrent and I am their vessel. "...a man of an angel's wit and singular learning. I know not his fellow. For where is the man of that gentleness, lowliness and affability? And, as time requireth, a man of marvelous mirth and pastimes, and sometime of as sad gravity. A man for all seasons."

I'm feeling better than the night before by means of complete avoidance. As much as the one demands, pines, yearns for the other, being good supercedes the conception of "being loved" as an obvious manifestation. I'm excited for all the churches in Iberia. RCIA after I come home, getting confirmed next Easter. That's the hope.

People hurt so much and I hope my heart grows pure enough to be able to resist and extinguish evils, temptations and worries in the name of love.

5/30/2024

Not feeling particularly good about the state of social expression and the manifestation of love in my life. I'm looking for santification and a subsurface amorous existence with someone else but I do not believe, as it stands, this is possible for me to achieve. Despite any attempts of removing oneself from the circle of discourse and its grip on the psyche I remain judged insofar as I exist relative to others, regardless of any status on shifting scales of hierarchy dreamed up by the order of the day. I cannot warrant the attention of others when others exist, so to speak. I want to be kind and lovely and beautiful but I do not want to be judged on any of these as a relative. Nothing is enough. There is always better love than my love!

Do you think it is enough to exist in my own right? I am inhabiting a perichoresis of walled solitude and reckless abandonment, and every time I hurt myself with either state, because I wish so dearly to be outside the world and drag another to heaven. I need to add more pages to this site! I have interests and I never share them as I should and yet I will lament that I could not be more interesting to other people.

5/15/2024

Had the flu for a little over a week. Been very tired as of late, so haven't been updating this recently...

5/3/2024

did some updates to the site, I'm happier with it now. It's 6 in the morning now, but I feel like I believe in love tonight, so that's enough for me to be able to sleep.

5/1/2024

It is okay not to really be a "real" person that society is made for. It is also okay to serve a mechanistic function; can I complain of my own lack if I'm doing good for others? I am glad they are happy and I can facilitate some peace and joy.

Even this is too much, you know? People have whole communities on here. I'm not meant for that sort of thing. I am Voyager II, so just let me speak into the arms of the chasm.

4/27/2024

I am sad tonight. I do not feel like a person in a greater web of reality but rather as something that is constantly conceptualizing the wealth of being on its own. I do not feel as though I can be loved by anyone, because I am so misinterpreted and unnecessarily complex in my conviction. I am exasperated with the sense of coldness I feel; I am not rooted to reality except when I am able to tie myself to another, and the only recipient of that proposition isn't in the place to accept it. I am at once alone in a sense of solipsism and an observer, knowing that people are living lives that I cannot, that have more stability, love, more breadth to their vast expanse. I want to beg to mean something deeper in any way, so selfishly, because it's my only hope of being rooted to the external. I am lost.

4/27/2024

I've hit a little bit of a writer's block when it comes to the next pages I want to make on this site. I have lots of thoughts but I don't have an eye for design whatsoever; also, am I making this as an extension of myself, or am I still considering the gaze of others? I was thinking about making a big mural of images I'm fond of or a multilingual zone (maybe to talk about odd stuff like my recent Hunnic fixation or Altaic-Hittite glyph comparisons) or to share some of my French/German poetry and writing but whenever I think about that I typically just return here and think that this will suffice. Oh well. . . I'm too reclusive and it's all in my head. I do NOT know how to display my interests and thoughts. It's between me, my Self, and God for now.

Everyone has always compared me to an angel so much that at certain points of my judgment I feel like it has all the authority of God behind it. It is usually at the alignment of duty, resolve, faith, love, hope, etc. In these situations the universal ethic of God the good and the particular sense of faith are one; nothing has to be excused because it is affirmative of truth itself in its becoming. I hear the bells and my will behind it.

man is as spear. arm, branch, to single point. weight and leverage to monad and refined dexterity. spirit in the meat and spine, perfection in the autodi[dactyl]ic. knowledge only brought down with the supporting force of will: Goethe’s talent in solitude and character in nature. in the spirit of michelangelo man's "peculiar capacity" is revealed hierophaneously where monad meets God.

4/26/2024, a few hours later. Depression, again

I wish I knew what was real (i.e. shared between individuals collectively) and what's all in my head. have I lost everything that's made me special to people? Or is it just that I can remember the reason why that feeling is there? I feel easily replaced. I guess it's okay if that's true. I don't want to disappoint people if somebody else can for sure make them happy.

another few hours later... it's 11 in the morning now. I slept for one hour last night so I'm probably going to be very lazy today. Feeling a bit better, though. I am grateful for certain people in my life.

4/26/2024. Mania.

Hugo wrote always, Chateaubriand or nothing. In that same sense, I have taken it upon myself in earnest to be aflame or nothing.

Data doesn't lie. You're just afraid of the shoes to fill. Let the world go to dogs if you have to, Goethe and his Farbenlehre.... all the dunces will be in confederacy against you, and most are in your head... Stop making excuses!

4/25/2024 #2

People are picking up that I'm depressive today. I feel horrible that it's so obvious and it's completely embarrassing.

Being too vulnerable is the issue I think. I need to lean more into the mythos and the image people have of me. The objective truth as well... If I seem "aristocratic" (not my words) and I'm cognitively in the top 99.99% then maybe it's about time I play that role a little more adeptly.

4/25/2024..

I'm lonelier than I'd like to admit. Everyone's looking at me to help make plans and I don't know how to tell them I don't know if I can work them out and maybe they should just plan on me not being around. I wish I knew if I've placed my faith incorrectly, where hope becomes delusion. I don't know what I'm even "hoping" for other than to be the favorite. I know I'm not malignant or opportunistic at least but I do worry endlessly about making a fool of myself. Could God forgive me for letting my hurting heart do so much talking? I'm not sure. I'm glad this website exists now because it feels slightly better than yelling to myself in a google doc. I wish I was more cut out for this sort of hurting. I start shaking when I think about how mythologized my existence is to some people. It feels like I can never make up for my mistakes and I continue to make more. Am I insane? If I exist only as a memory, should I cut it short and just kill myself? What difference does it make? I exist as my own memory, but forgotten by everyone else who matters. I've already died. The sun rises once or twice a week, and I remember when it was day for entire weeks. Are those times gone? It's so cold in my room.

I've always existed to pick up the slack. When others failed, I was them for someone else. I often revisit that day in my thoughts and in my dreams. I dropped it all and fled because I knew that I would be snuffed if I did the cycle again. I cemented the rift and carried the intangible with me because an honest love, especially, was too invaluable to lose in the world. memory in the pericardium is enough to be a torch for the whole soul.

I feel like I've been living without proper depression for a while but it's more like it's taken a different form or been pushed back as some sort of spiteful survival mechanism. Right now, for sure, I am grappling with the sweet angel of ideation because it's all hitting me like a truck, like it always does. Love is the only thing that at all feels real or binds me to another person and I don't even know if I'm stupid for it. Am I even still needed? Was I ever needed? Do I need to be needed? I just want to be certain of something for once. I'm not any good at putting these things to words. For all I know I'm being placated so I don't lash out or kill myself or something and that keeps hanging over my head because I fear that people can't tell me the truth.

I'm thinking about trying to get drunk tonight. Am I really that kind of guy? I feel so disgusted with myself. It's not like I've ever been good enough at my best, though. What if I keep writing WHILE i'm drunk in here. It'd be HILARIOUS and the only ppl who'd read this anyway are probably randos from neocities browse tab etc. alternatively make super duper secret musings page but that just feels deceptive and basically just another google doc. oh well.

it's funny that past 2am is basically a sort of coin flip on whether i talk to myself or send a bunch of messages to R because i've loved a person so much i've equated them with myself even if they really do not want to receive such things. i'm a bad person for making things harder on other people. i don't want them to have to deal with my nonsense all the time when they have so much to deal with already.

"We do not remember days, we remember moments. The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten." I feel like I'm a forgotten memory to the person who matters most. You're the only thing that feels real in my head. The only tangible grounding icon that can defy fear. I must sound insane.

drank a bunch of porto since its the only thing i had and now i feel dizzy and tired and i just want to stop existing so it doesnt hurt anymore and satan can laugh at me and say i was wrong to have hope that love was all a person needed. i thought i could mean as much as someone meant to me even despite the world but not evryone is as stupid as i am. i need to leave for a while. i'm an idiot and i've done such stupid things in the past i don't know how i ever expected anything other than what's been served to me like the head of the baptist. good night

4/24/2024. Frustration.

I really do hold myself to a sense of universal benignity but it is so difficult when people feel not only so wicked but so stupid and cemented in their haughtiness. I cannot help but feel that every error another person makes in rhetoric or logic is unconsciously added to my own ego, that other people are driving a wedge between I and them even though I just want to be kind and just. I don't want to feel such an urge to be the "ivory tower intellectual" or distinguish myself with something as horrible as regarding myself as an objective 1 in 100,000 individual even if it could be true or data suggests it etc. I just want to be at home in my species.

4/23/2024. Moving in, sort of.

testing, testing... Generic musings can go here, I guess. Twitter isn't good because it's an algorithm, and I would prefer to exist as more than a fleeting thought that is either approved or disapproved of. Even then, the people who I think would actually appreciate them hardly see them anyway. Hopefully this works.

seeing this website altogether with the css style sheet looks great. MS Gothic my beloved. I might have to import a lot of stuff from my google doc. . . You know how it is. I'll put some stuff I wrote today and recently. What should I do with the right side of the page? I don't want the text completely centered.

"in a way there is nothing more despicable and lowly than the poet, who grasps for grains to immortalize, collecting and communicating hierophany wherever he can find it. it is also a most noble and democratic ambition, though i would like to see more raw ecstasy firsthand soon."

to call something a leech is to deride it by means of likening it to lowly Creation. surely the irony is not lost on the reader here. man, unique sinner among the beasts, can only be reproached by likening himself to his own creation, his own failure. men can be Quislings and they can be Benedict Arnolds, but they can never be leeches or worms. that would be too perfect for them.

the walls of Elysium could come tumbling down,
the ocean could cry a most vivid blue,
and we would still be sprawled out in our revolutionary love,
because we another knew, and that was enough

should I put those lofty love letters, poems, silent devotions and such I write here as well? To the mythic recipient who may or may not exist. Maybe. I'll think about it.

I know it's silly, but please remember to always have hope and love. These things feel obvious because they are so important. Kindle them always and keep the faith.