Automatic Waiting
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
4:26PM
Poll #1430299
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All
having lived the life you've lived, if you had a choice: would you wish that you were never born.
yes, i would take back this whole life & undo all the good i've done![]()
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1 (25.0%)
no. i accept myself, i am at peace with the universe. shit happens, here i am, nobody invited you either.![]()
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2 (50.0%)
occasionally, but not really; "i just wanted to escape that particular situation."![]()
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0 (0.0%)
i don't trouble myself with hypothetical questions.![]()
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0 (0.0%)
yes, only because nothing is perfect and perfect is DEAD.![]()
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0 (0.0%)
other![]()
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1 (25.0%)
other:
4:18PM
let's say i've been opening effexor capsules, smoking wormwood & listening to courtney love all day to try & understand you better
2:52PM - dead people don't make sense.
all you have to do (in life) is die.
1:45AM
Oh,
I
knowI too shall cease and be as when I was not yet, only all over instead of in store. That makes me happy, often now my murmur falters and dies and I weep for happiness as I go along and for love of this old earth
that has carried me so long and whose uncomplainingness will soon be mine. Just under the surface I shall be, all together at first, then separate, and drift through all the earth and perhaps in the end through a cliff into the sea, something of me.
A ton of worms in an acre, that is a wonderful thought,
a ton of worms, I believe it.
--- Samuel Beckett in
From an Abandoned Work
12:28AM - in the state i've worked myself up in
if i could begin to tell you one thing, i would never finish
(everything i don't know is telling you a secret)
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
3:44PM
willpower is at an all-time low, with an allergy to stimulation. it's like the death itself is saying "be quiet, let us finish. we're working."
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
7:45AM - w.s. (parts of a world)
THE DWARF
Now it is September and the web is woven.
The web is woven and you have to wear it.
The winter is made and you have to bear it,
The winter web, the winter woven, wind and wind,
For all the thoughts of summer that go with it
In the mind, pupa of straw, moppet of rags.
It is the mind that is woven, the mind that was jerked
And tufted in straggling thunder and shuttered sun.
It is all that you are, the final dwarf of you,
That is woven and woven and waiting to be worn,
Neither as mask nor as garment but as a being,
Torn from insipid summer, for the mirror of cold,
Sitting beside your lamp, there citron to nibble
And coffee dribble . . . . Frost is in the stubble.
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