Onerous Experiments In Phraseology

Axiomatic expressions of temporary autonomous understanding of qabalistic cacophony of constipated concentration. Or Axiomatically expressing temporary autonomous understanding of a qabalistic cacophony of constipated concentration. Or qabalistic cacophony of constipated concentration tinctured by axiomatic expressions of temporary autonomous understanding. Or Brief ontological perspectivity by extrusive unmelodious dissonance. Or Instancial comprehension of independant theoremhood through an extrusionarily uproarious pandemonium. Or Discordial polyphony in stultified absorption by restrictive instantaneous perspectivity. A bedlam of clamorous miscellany metastasized defectively by yarely instruments.

How is it matter? Fluctuations or rhyme, meter, and exactitude of meaning. (Not to begin to even incorporate strange loops or mirrored reality... vessels filled with water reflecting darkened images of each other and the universe itself...)

What is this exactly when shredded open and examined?

Axiomatic-
1
:  taken for granted :  self-evident <an axiomatic truth>
2
:  based on or involving an axiom or system of axioms <axiomatic set theory>

Expressions-
1
a :  an act, process, or instance of representing in a medium (as words) :  utterance <freedom of expression>
b (1) :  something that manifests, embodies, or symbolizes something else <this gift is an expression of my admiration for you> (2) :  a significant word or phrase (3) :  a mathematical or logical symbol or a meaningful combination of symbols (4) :  the detectable effect of a gene; also :  expressivity 1
2
a :  a mode, means, or use of significant representation or symbolism; especially :  felicitous or vivid indication or depiction of mood or sentiment <read the poem with expression>
b (1) :  the quality or fact of being expressive (2) :  facial aspect or vocal intonation as indicative of feeling
3
:  an act or product of pressing out

Autonomous-
1 is bullshit. A definition containing the word to be defined is redundant and shall not be included here. 
2
a :  having the right or power of self-government

b :  undertaken or carried on without outside control :  self-contained <an autonomous school system>
3
a :  existing or capable of existing independently <an autonomous zooid>
b :  responding, reacting, or developing independently of the whole <an autonomous growth>
4
:  controlled by the autonomic nervous system

Understanding-
1
:  a mental grasp :  comprehension
2
a :  the power of comprehending; especially :  the capacity to apprehend general relations of particulars
b :  the power to make experience intelligible by applying concepts and categories
3
a :  friendly or harmonious relationship
b :  an agreement of opinion or feeling :  adjustment of differences
c :  a mutual agreement not formally entered into but in some degree binding on each side
4
:  explanation, interpretation
5
:  sympathy 3a

Qabalistic -
No definition in Merriam-Webster. See Aleister Crowley's appendix within 777 titled "What is Qabalah?"

Cacophony-
:  harsh or discordant sound :  dissonance 2; specifically :  harshness in the sound of words or phrases These definitions are atrocious, but usable, for our purposes

Constipation-
1
:  abnormally delayed or infrequent passage of usually dry hardened feces
2
:  stultification
Again: awful

Concentration-
All three definitions are crimes severe enough to warrant the hanging of its writer. "Direction of attention to a single object" will have to do. Keeping my own concentration on the menial task of explaining what I already so clearly understand is trying enough. Look the rest up for yourself. Especially yarely. But I'm moving on now.

Better comprehension of these words and their multiple definitions should shed a bit of light on the above statements. I find it most important that when using words steeped in so much meaning, one must be aware of all different uses and definitions of the word. Each differing in literalcy, yet still functional. One sentence; many interpretations. All varied and unified simultaneously.

Exactitude of wording is a must. Like a puzzle, a good sentence can occupy the mind for hours. Constantly being reinvented and reconsidered, unfolding itself before the skilled mind in a flower of artistic excellence.

So is this write? Is this worthy of such a honor?

Possibly.

More likely not.

Yet, it is a step. Each step is important, even if the goal is not achieved thusly. The wielder is one step closer. And the reader is rewarded.

So, now we've come to it. What are the above phrases attempting to express?

Understand each word. Break it down. Combine slowly. Like other systems involving basic rules, the results of simple mechanics can be astounding.

Two meaning-rich words, when combined, rise by orders of magnitude. It's a magic practicable by any and all. Fascinating incantations with the ability to summon forth previously unforeseen concepts of intricate complexity.

Nothing and everything.


I will give you an hour or so to solve this. In the meantime, I will be writing the xplanation.

We Have Nothing But Fear Itself.

I used to believe a person could be both good AND strong, but the longer I live, the more it seems these forces are diametrically opposed. Either a person is good OR they are strong. If they are good, then they are not strong. And if they are strong, they are not good. What follows is that the strong abuse the good, and the good let them. In the end, everyone is miserable. But why is this so? I looked into it and found only despair.

First of all, are these "good" people actually even good? I used to wonder this back in elementary school when I saw kids getting bullied for no logical reason. At first, I felt bad for the victims. I tried to help them. I befriended them. It was only when I got to know them that I saw what piece of shit cowards they were. 

They weren't really good, they were just weak and afraid. It was their weakness in character, not their kindness that made them appear to be good. If you're only doing nice things because you're too scared to be an asshole, you're not fucking good. You're just a little dandy-ass bitch. These little fucks had no problem bossing around and humiliating kids lower than them in the social hierarchy. If they were more popular or stronger, they'd be doing the same shit as the bullies. After seeing enough of this, I lost all of that worthless pity for those spine-less pricks.

Then came the bullies. They were generally athletic and/or good looking. They wielded power either physical or social. They used that influence for enjoyment and more importantly, security.

Again, I got to know some of these people. I wanted to understand them, and what I found wasn't much different than the victims. Yet again, the main motivation was fear. They were afraid of not being liked, or not being strong enough. If they attacked others, they remained dominant. If they were dominant, no one would hurt them. It was pathetic. Tough demeanors hiding frightened little babies. They disgusted me.

In the end, it was all about fear. 2 sides of the same coin. Either they dealt with their fear using aggression or placidity. The differences between both kinds were barely distinguishable. It sickens me to this day to see these fear-raddled worms. 

I hate the idea that fear is mankind's chief motivator. Fear of death motivates us to live a full life, to do something important, to be remembered, and fear of others, of pain, makes us act shitty to each other along the way. So fuck you. All of you.

Music-Hating Town Inadvertently Creates New Form of DIY Event.

Money-loving, music-hating capital of the world, Asbury Parrk NJ, has recently banned local businesses from playing background music in their stores.

Despite its reputation as a hip, musical mecca, Asbury Park's chill, hipster attitude is actually a facade disguising its greedy totalitarian reality. Unless you are only playing pre-approved types of music and making the right people money, this town doesn't want any of your bullshit.

Background music isn't completely banned however. Businesses may play as much music as they like as long as they keep the volume below 65 decibels and they pay a fee upwards of $1500.00 a day. So if you're were looking to savor a fancy pasta dish at a candle-lit table over a bottle of wine with barely audible jazz music, you're shit out of luck.

The new ordinance has thusly forced ambiance aficionados to form a new underground scene. The $5 basement show is being replaced by events where you can bring your own food and eat it while listening to genuine, 100% real music played on somebody's phone through a crappy speaker. Punk houses don't know what to do with the sudden influx of new revenue from all of the middle-aged married couples seeking the refuge of a crusty basement in which to listen to Radiohead and Jack Johnson over salad and breadsticks.

"I'm thinking of buying a car. Maybe starting a 401k or something." says local resident Jake Healy in an interview yesterday. "It's cool, man. If these weirdos want to give me money, I'll take it."

A brand new DIY underground scene. Like always, bourne from the fascism of the greedy and powerful. This town has been dead for years, we're just fucking its corpse at this point. Expect organized police raids of these speakeateries to soon follow.

Eaters of the Flame

I can feel the world moving. Beneath, above, around, and within. Knew unto new. An expression of futility and quixotic ignorance. Faces shrouded beneath shifting folds of time. Connections and lack thereof. Faces slack with inarticulate vacuity. Tumbling through the escapades of a shameless generation. Nothing real can last in this travelcade of set pieces, interchangeable roles, vast sands of desolation, stagnant, repugnant waters. Not of life, bereft of life-giving succor. Nothing floating nothing moving.

Media junkies. Addicts of a substance far more dangerous than that of chemical euphoria. Slug-like entities. Human shells, skulking darkened on rivers of black rock. Groping for a fix in every bar across this shit-hole excuse of a country. Desperate. Manipulating. Sheparding toward self-annihilation. Insatiable sensationalists. Whip-scarred backs scraping and crawling through an ocean of spent semen and lingerie. Burn marks permeate their ligaments, dulling their ever-fleeting tangenital grasp on holographic reality. Who among you can claim immunity to this vile sickness? Atrophication of the grey matter. Axions missing their mark. Spiraling nothingness iterating itself into existence. Hildegarde doth professed.

Wrinkled, mucus-trailing swarm. Drinking clear frothy nectar. Lapping fervently the tap of devoidal opulence.

Pointlessless

Logically, if intelligent life continues onward without an extinction event, there will inevitably be an end to history. The point at which every permutation of every given event has already occurred. Literally a moment when nothing is new, because nothing can be new. With infinity as our time frame, it is an unavoidable inevitability. Given, one far beyond a time we could ever conceive, and certainly one we will never live to see. Yet, that does nothing to deter the ineluctable truth of limited options in a limitless time frame.

Now this... this is a pretty bleak concept.

Imagine being born into a time in which it is literally impossible to do anything new. Feels pretty futile doesn't it? As if our lives didn't feel pointless enough, we've got this atom bomb of futility looming ever-present in our genetic future.

Once you come to terms with this fact, you knock down one of the massive barriers preventing happiness for both the people alive at that time, and for ourselves right now. By imagining this world, we can learn a bit more about life, its meaning (or lack thereof), and our innate desire for agency.

At least we can have the hope of doing something novel. It's something we dedicate our lives searching for or creating. But future people will be denied that at birth. No possibility of leaving their mark on history. All the history books have already been filled and shut.

On the other hand, does that necessarily void meaning in one's life?

How many times have you been in a situation that is as old as mankind itself? Ever been sweet on someone who didn't even realize you existed? Ever fought with the urge to spill your heart out to them for fear of rejection? Ever been stabbed in the back by a friend? Or cheated on by a lover? These things have happened in nearly identical ways since our earliest ancestors. It's part of the human condition, and it is timeless. Despite knowing you're involved in a situation that has been played out billions of times and billions of ways by billions of people, it doesn't remove the meaning that you feel from it, does it? You still feel like it matters, even if it only matters to you. You still feel a sense of agency even when the possibilities have previously been exhausted by others. Because they're not you. You are you. This is your experience on your path. It is yours alone.

Live your life. Fuck history.

Factured

Traditionally, humans were defined by gender, with women being indirectly defined as "unman."

Women fulfilled the role of "other." Whatever it meant to be a man, being a woman meant you were the opposite.

In recent years, these lines have blurred. What you were was no longer dependent upon the gender you were born with. One found meaning in oneself.

It was a new freedom for the individual. One could finally express whatever qualities one personally valued.

It was fine for a time, but global interconnectivity and access to media led to an overabundance of entertainment. We spent less time discovering what was in ourselves and more time discovering what was out there.

Epiphenomenally, we came to define ourselves by our interests and tastes in entertainment. Less by our personal values and philosophies.

Our sense of humor, attitude, and style pulled directly from the screen we shed our personal identities. Reality, now a construct of imagination distanced by a screen, no longer felt real.

If the camera didn't capture it, it might as well have not happened at all.

And what remains when our defining features are culled from without instead of within? Nihilistic movie-quoting sex fiends? Carbon copy media mugwumps? Hollow-hearted, dying to live, distractopheliacs overdosing in a futile effort to kill the pain? Hiding the only honest part of themselves behind a mask? Refusing to relate to others on any meaningful level? Denying the fact that each of us is hollow and lost within the black hole of ourselves?

Disemelevatored

Whenever someone is kind, generous, or helpful to me, my immediate reaction is WHAT ARE YOU AFTER, YOU MANIPULATING PIECE OF SHIT?! WHAT'S YOUR ENDGAME HERE?!

FUCK WITH ME AND I WILL STRIKE BACK WITH SUCH RIGHTEOUS VENGEANCE THAT THE NATIONS WILL KNOW THEMSELVES TO BE BUT MEN! THE SKY WILL CRACK OPEN AND MOUNTAINS WILL CRUMBLE IN MY WAKE! THE WHOLE OF HUMANITY WILL TREMBLE IN WIDE-EYED FEAR AT THE MENTION OF MY NAME!

I WILL DO THINGS TO YOU THAT WILL RUIN THE REST OF YOUR NATURAL EXISTENCE!

RWOOOOAAAAAAAGHGHGHGGG!!!!!!
GYUUUUUOOOOOOUOUOUOUGHGG!
AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!


or whatever.






In other news, I've been trying to be more sociable lately.
And by sociable, I mean saying exactly what I need to say to get people to not want to talk to me anymore but not dislike me in any way.

It's going well.


Another large glob of protoplasmic jelly falls from his atrophied form and hits the floor with a loud smack. A faint sucking sound can be heard as the pressure equalizes at the rapid loss of glia and axons. Processes halted, stimuli undigested, aneurystic  insect eyes seeking sugar and light in a young boy's virgin cavities and burn cherry-red with pent up desires.