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DarkSide73Floyd
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Name:
Location: Dayton, Ohio, United States
Birthday: 11/19/1989
Gender: Male
Interests: Fine art, writing, hanging out, The Doors, Hendrix, Pink Floyd, Jeff Buckley, any good music, public policy, censorship, socialism, Buddhism, anything relating to chaos or disorder, civil rights, drug policy, Dali, eastern philosophy, surrealism, independent filmmakers, Wes Anderson, Luis Bunuel, mob psychology and manipulation, Dalai Lama, atheism, theism, existentialism, Jim Jarmusch, Sublime, Bowie, Grateful Dead, love, the human psyche, Freud, Proust, Beethoven, Ben Harper, Marley and the Wailers, Aldous Huxley
Expertise: Um...Well, I'll get back to you on that...
Occupation: Unemployed/Between Jobs
Industry: Art
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  ZZ7681@aol.com
Member Since:
10/12/2004
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| How has everyone been? Break has been pretty fantabulous? I have no clue what that word is supposed to mean, but it goes with the flow of the sentence. I have been watching a bunch of movies lately; speaking of which Inside Man was quite good. I have gotten to hang with some really cool people. There are many other really amazing people out there that I have not been able to hang with and that is unfortunate. However, I prefer to focus on the good times.
I was at the Matisyahu concert at Bogarts on the 18th with Elliot, Kahn, and Bernie. We were right next to the stage, right in front of the band. It was fantastic; they put on a great show, I got to crowd surf three times, and I accidentally kicked some annoying bitch in the head. The band was sweet, Matisyahu was energetic, and the music was amazing.
In other news, Sunday is gonna be my two month anniversary with Sam. Two fucking amazing months with a fucking incredible girl. | | |
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Strange days have found us
Strange days have tracked us down
They’re going to destroy our casual joys
We shall go on playing or find a new town
Strange eyes fill strange rooms
Voices will signal their tired end
The hostess is grinning
Her guests sleep from sinning
Hear me talk of sin and you know this is it
Strange days have found us
And through their strange hours
We linger alone
Bodies confused
Memories misused
As we run from the day
To a strange night of stone
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| Update time. It has been a while so why the fuck not?
A bit long? Yes. A bit fucked up? Sure. But bear with me; I'm quite proud of this piece, whatever it means to you.
Marcel Proust.
Look inside containers of time lost,
Memories lost,
Forgotten,
Dropped in the rotating abyss.
Looking into the contents
Of your laughter faded,
Break the everything and anything.
Time of Exaltation
Found…
Having eaten of the chasm,
Having joined the mortal body gone astray
into the wilderness,
in search of rain.
I have found the snake of lust,
We’ll do the rest, we must…
We’ll drive the car into the space,
Of the amassed lost time we can’t replace.
The seeker tore his face off,
Placed it in the portrait on the wall.
He ripped his lung out and then his gall.
The face in the mirror scoffs,
Anxious,
Kill, Kill, Kill, Kill
And then the seeker lost his soul.
Strange days approach us now,
We’ll find a new town,
In the strange motel.
The tired hostess end
speaks of transgression
regression into strange
worlds unknown.
Destroy all commodities and live alone,
Voices signal constant search for flesh of stone.
Immortal, isn’t it? Or is it but on loan?
Does it live in prisons of it’s own demise?
Or is it infinite, ungoverned by doors of disguise?
Tear the world of drapes today,
Let it softly melt away…
Slip into unconscious daze,
In betwixt the reticent haze.
Enclose me in you tender burrow,
Your street’s field’s fertile furrow.
Deliver me from time’s lies,
It’s wretched cries,
The ship departs tomorrow,
Now leaves us our tumescent sorrow.
“The path of excess leads to the palace of wisdom”
— William Blake
A Lament.
Eternity of happiness,
No more time is lost,
Ruined.
We now sit upon our
conflagrated throne
watching
life’s eternal parade,
watching other’s destinies made.
A season in the inferno,
a year in repentance,
for life lived to its carnal fullest.
We dig our own graves of gemstones.
Neighbor, pray give a servant coal.
We must share; they want to cultivate morals.
The monk bought lunch,
His soup turned to bread and wine,
The gravediggers feast.
Infections of yeast,
The reward of the very least,
We are but curs, curs’t after all.
Come here, gentle creature…
“Have you ever eaten diseased human flesh?”
Come on, get my fiery suture…
“We’re all but Bishops, mostly Welsh.”
Requiescat in Pace, sardonical lies.
Had I not smoked, not drank,
Not fucked, not raped,
Damned is Blake,
leading astray the sinless blasphemer.
Karma, had said the fakir,
Uttered into my impaled ear.
Tao, had said the monk,
Bleeding, maneuvered into my trunk.
No god, had said the czar,
Who I shot next to the car.
Excess, says William Blake,
By far the best, for my own sake.
I am a monster but I am man,
I shall suffer for this dukkha;
To meet the end in full force,
I show no essential remorse.
“If that story about hell is a lie, we’re all fucked, aren’t we…”
— Clara, House of the Spirits | | |
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This entry is dedicated to: Jessica, Julia, Ross, Parag, Morgan, and last, but not least, to Kate. All of you are incredibly dear to me, and I love all of you as much as it possible to love another person. Today all of you gave me the best possible birthday I could ever imagine. I have never felt such happiness, such joy, such satisfaction and oneness with life. You are the greatest friends I could hope to have. I would trade in a hundred lives for time well-spent with any of you. I can not emphasize how much I truly love you. Where I would be without your love, support, and companionship? Looking back at the day, there is nothing I would change, nothing I would take back. Nothing could take such happiness away. We shall meet again, we shall meet again next time ‘round.
This is our last embrace,
Must I dream and always see your face?
Why can’t we overcome this wall
Maybe it is just because I didn’t know you at all.
- Jeff Buckley
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| "The world is like a ride at an amusement park. It goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills; it's very brightly coloured, it's very loud, and it's fun, for a while. Some people have been on the ride for a long time, and they begin to question: 'Is this real, or is this just a ride?' And other people have remembered, and they come back to us; they say, 'Hey – don't worry, don't be afraid, ever, because, this is just a ride...' And we...kill those people. [...] 'Shut him up. We have a lot invested in this ride. Shut him up. Look at my furrows of worry. Look at my big bank account and my family. This just has to be real.' It's just a ride. But we always kill those people who try and tell us that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok. Jesus murdered; Martin Luther King murdered; Malcolm X murdered; Gandhi murdered; John Lennon murdered. But it doesn't matter because: 'It's just a ride.' And we can change it anytime we want. It's only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings and money. A choice, right now, between fear and love.
The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourself off. The eyes of love, instead, see all of us as one. Here's what we can do to change the world, right now, to a better ride. Take all that money that we spend on weapons and defenses each year and instead spend it on feeding and clothing and educating the poor of the world, which it would many times over, not one human being excluded, and we could explore space, together, both inner and outer, forever, in peace. Thank you very much, you've been great."
- Bill Hicks | | |
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