Life = Specific

Life seems like a very specific thing, this specificness disturbs the little monster in me that runs at every door it sees and tries to get through. Everywhere I look in lifedeath, samsara, I see adheration to specification. When you plant plant a fertile bean in soil of same ilk, water it, a bean plant will grow.

As humans our brains are so large, we produce behavior that appears to our consciousness to be complex, much less predictable (some of us more so than others) than our smaller brained animalia, and non-brained plant brothers.

Human lives executed like genetic code... if... then. All lifedeath.

If you get a degree, get a job, listen to the messages from "above" you will "grow" become part of lifedeath and thrive in samsara. And like the rest of the machine-organism-computer, you will be in a process of evolving, mutating through the sexual and natural selection processes.
I am not saying that all humans SHOULD get a degree, job, wife, house. I'm saying that is one [bio][logical] path in which I've seen human life THRIVE. Just like that little monster running at the doors, life just wants to thrive. There are folks thriving working at a post-office without a degree, on a farm without a wife...the Emperor of the United States (a homeless man in San Fransisco) is also thriving without any of these other conditions being met.
Although no two snowflakes are identical in the details, the basis of their formation is based on laws that bind us (and free us) in samsara. To attempt to break these laws will bring about suffering, try to fit the square peg in the round hole. In the game of Go, a game in which some say is a reflection of the cosmos in a microcosm, I've heard a master say "To the beginner there are many options, the rules say you can place a stone on any one of the 19x19 intersections, but to the expert there are but few options" -- to the ones who see how the game of lifedeath is played, there are few options.

I've been suffering because I've been fighting with the game itself instead of leveraging my knowledge of this cosmic game to my advantage, allowing MYSELF to be played out of angst and hopelessness. The part of me that wants to escape suffering by ending it all.

As I said, our brains are complex. Perhaps, our brains are the most complex object that our brains can find in the universe. To comprehend some thing more complex than our brains, with our brains _______________.

I search for purpose. I give more of myself to that little monster trying to get through the next door, to that alchemist attempting to pierce the veil, and it has it's price.

"To enjoy life. Happiness. Contentment."

We have the ability to feel, and attempt to move that feeling to another feeling human. The purpose of Art. One could say "The purpose of life is to feel, life is art." or in E-prime: "A purpose of life could be to feel, life can be seen as art."

-- Parts from notebook page found

A sphere with more than 4 dimensions

I am looking at this ball, it is a round ball, a green ball, a ball that looks like it has been in the sun for a while.
I am looking at this tennis ball, I wouldn't ever use it in a tennis match, it's old and worn. Something I might play "DOG ... fetch" with.
I am looking at a sphere, it is but the extension of light from the origin. There is no such thing as time and too bad these other losers are here creating a restricted consensus reality that I am unable to penetrate fully with my "big bang" powers.
I am looking at a table, it is oak, it is well crafted. On this well crafted table I notice a manufactured play ball. The play ball is grey-green with white stripes and is a bit fuzzy. The table has a few rings from where inconsiderate people have left cups creating circles of water damage.
Ball! My hand is my mouth, they bark, I escape! Life is a game!
A tennis ball, it's Wilson brand, circa 2008, the distinct lettering and stripe pattern is from that around that year, in contrast to the previous lettering, and the proceeding stripe alteration (the stripes have since become closer at the apex by 5mm).
Damn dog! Stole our ball for this exercise, time for tea. With saucers, don't want any of these bastards to damage my table.

I admit it...

I'm full of shit.
Yes it's true. Now, then, I see myself, floundering in a sea of psychedelic vomit. Eating cream cheese on a chilled English muffin, finger motion translating into blog words.
"How can we help you?"
"How can we help you, help yourself?"
"Fuck you, help yourself."
"Welcome! Help yourself to the chips and dip."
Don't continue to desire the unattainable on that level of consciousness, focus more on the verbness between the desires.
The duit, instead of Nuit. (I know you loved her so)
Sense comes easy, make non-sense again.
Non-sense is point-less.

Help me! Help me! -- Sir, what do you need you are knee deep in feces.
Yea yea yeah!
If I were to hold my hand out to myself, world being torn apart, huge voids of energy, monkeys in a barrel, everyone connected holding on to the last piece of humanity that they can see.
Drink Orange Juice. It's nice.
Pandemonium.
Don't you know how to dance? Follow Blue's Clues. CUES.

Never once. Always thrice. Simpler Times in contrast. Origami of space-time, matter is an illusion.
Fold it up, fold it down, fold it around then stick a push pin through it.
Now, unfold hold up to light.
Next find constellations, attribute meaning.
Find reality.
nadabra, Abra

Still, you suck. Still we're hear, you here?! Still motion. Watch them eat, watch you eat, quick before the lights come on. They have no soul. "Scratch 'n Sniff"
SO MAD. ANGRY! STOP THAT. Fade away, shapeshift. Continue.
The eye swings around madly upon it's perch. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!
I just need to engage the clutch, engage the engine with the drive-train.
Just need this one last thing.
to participate.
to be part of.
Excommunicated from Life, self serving liberated individual collective of space matter.
All gone. Too many mistakes. Good.
Didn't want to finish the race anyway, wanted to scrape my knees, goal.
Poor girl, I love you so. Sorry for killing you that one time, and that other time, and that other time.
I saw you. I knew you. What to do? How can we free each other from this misery?
Ice cold cum.