commodity

Intellect is even a commodity. Everything for sale? What does the marketplace say? That is how lives are recorded and valued achieved. Thinking that your book smarts are valuable. The marketplace says otherwise. So, you're then wise in your own eyes. Affirmation thus coming from self-righteousness or the notions that others don't get it. In the end you might be the one that does not get it. The ideas that win are the ones remembered.

big spectacle

This has all become just one big spectacle. We are all commodities for the capitalistic impulses of empire. We can't handle so this we retreat in the world of memes and social media debates about the trivial because we know we can't change the real? Or that changing the real will require more than a social media presence. Who is ready to really shake shit up? Silence, from the crowd or worst indifference to the different landscape that future generations will be forced to live on. Damn, we just live on. Truthfully, what is one really suppose to do beyond the witness? We even become to that which we witness. It seems human nature. Fucked up human nature.

self

The notion of self. Who loves the true you? In a world of conditional love who will be their loving you after the mask. Can anyone truly love that which is one's true self? Feel like we are forced to wear mask of acceptance. What is not a calculated statement of acceptance? I am pretending with the mask? The real me at times feels trapped by external forces. Shit, it seems that this has been the story of my life.

born to use mic

The notion of moving forward. The stories we are told about how to live are simply neatly fashioned lies. History, has provided no beautiful answers but rather endless examples of the realness of humanity. A virus that rationalizes it's importance. The noise is endless. We are victims and oppressors embody in a narrative of destruction. Or do the messages of destructions simply absolve us the punishment? What if punishment is simply another creation for control? What does it look like without the desire to create stories about what is happening.

the man without a face

Do I think big to feel big? Truthfully at time I can feel so small. Like the world is bigger than me thus I seek solutions to the big issues of the time to deal with the truth that on the micro I have no answer.

noise

So much of it is noise. Or maybe the noise simply exist between my ears. Deep thoughts or is that simply what I tell myself? How is would to know what is deep it this signaled by the validation of others? Who am I? Like seriously away from the positions? Have I become a caricature of a real person. I feel like even to say authentic or real has become mere commodities. It really seems like you can't escape the matrix.

STUCK IN THE MADNESS

It is maddening when you feel stuck. Like really want can you do about problematic systems? I tell myself that conscious raising raises the possibilities for a better world. However, with time that seems like a false premise that allows for me to keep string on sanity. A shoestring that is laced with depression. Depressive states can't help but be ignored. I think most want more than their lives to be about what they can endure. However, what is there after enduring?