I would give anything — anything — to be standing in the middle of falling snow, in the middle of city traffic, under a grey sky right now. I’d kill. I’d cry. I’d sing. I’d die.

Alas, such things don’t exist anymore for me.

I see through you all, you weak Americans. You are all bought and paid for. You all know you don’t measure up to TV. You are all scared of yourselves. You are all shooting up and fucking around because you know you aren’t kooler than Calvin. The capitalists have raped you, and you are suffering from abuser identification syndrome.

You are all violated. You are all violated. You are all violated. You are all weak.

The Philippino cardinal of the Catholic church until he died today was named “Cardinal Sin.” This may be the funniest found-joke in all of human history.

the relentless hum of the air in the subway tunnel is as close to happiness as you will ever get you love it like you loved the ones you threw there and you can smell them still on the tracks, the tracks where all of life runs north and south, the tracks where all of death runs east and west, on the tracks you made your fortune and kissed them goodbye and on the tracks you found your hum

on the tracks

the relentless hum of the air in the subway tunnel prays to you, touches the back of your neck, your hairs stand on end, you become aroused, the trains cum, they go off in a shot, you run up and down along the platform touching rubber, screaming living, loving timetables, falling, falling, electricity everywhere and rats like the ecstasy of a broken einstein you smile and smile and touch them smooth metal

on the tracks

the relentless hum of the air in the subway unable stop like you have to keep descending the stairwells and they go down and down through level A and level B and level C and every color, red green blue yellow comic masterpiece wonka man please touch my elevator timeschedule song please love the conductor he isn’t too long deep hat knife dreams kill, kill, kill

on the tracks

Yeah, this sucks.

ocd sans plan/routine = live fish on dry sand

On the 47 bus there was an old crazy lady who had a face like that of a corpse, and would dress it up with incredible amounts of pink and red lipstick and rouge. She will actually be a corpse by now. Internally, the transition will have seemed like quite a major one, but to the rest of the world there probably wasn’t much difference.

Likewise, the people who used to see me on the bus every day never once gave a thought to the fact that I stopped riding it abruptly sometime in 2001. In fact, I suspect they never even realized that anything was different. And I don’t look like a corpse at all.

Well, not entirely.

—

Sesame street teaches children that a) karate is for men and b) it is used to do the work that is otherwise done by wood-cutting and cinderblock-cutting saws.

Also, the X Files are still shown in syndication almost continuously.

And everyone loves images of hell, the more depraved the better. Whenever an image of hell is about to be displayed, everyone secretly leaps and dances with anticipation inside, then is secretly disappointed when it really isn’t that disturbing after all.

There are better poems in me than the ones that I post here, but every time I try to write them, they stand up of their own accord and climb off the page, climb off the monitor, abandon me with a singular sort of disdain.

I’ve therefore more or less given up on them, since it’s painful to be left again and again by one’s own fondest creations, in which one had placed so fervent a field of hopes.

—

I don’t belong in this century. Obvious thing to say, I know.

I’ve been trying to figure out why I’ve always felt like such an alien living in the United States, and I think it’s because I received a fundamentally Chinese upbringing, thanks to the fact that my dad is Chinese and my mom is Mormon (a very socialistic, authoritarian worldview). I was raised to believe:

   – That you can trust the gestalt to provide order, stability, and care
   – That you must in turn provide stability and care to the gestalt
   – That interdependence is the key to greater social wellness and personal happiness alike
   – That self-sacrifice to all others is fundamental to these goals
   – That you can also expect all others to make the same sacrifice to you
   – That order is not only good, it is essential for all to function or to trust the social contract
   – That justice should be uniform, blind, universal, and swift
   – That personal “dreams” are mirages whose karmic (for lack of a word) value is often negative

Really, deep down, I think I believe all of these things. I want to sacrifice myself for (again for lack of a word) the state, and I want the state in turn to promise me food, housing, and family. Note that the state in this case is not a faceless government, but is really the collection of all others, a manifestation of the caring of each citizen for every other — of the willingness on the part of each to sacrifice self for the betterment of all.

But this is the worldview of the former Soviet Union, or of past Chinese regimes. Certainly it bears little resemblance to anything practiced or believed in here in the United States. Here I feel betrayed by the gestalt and by nearly all individuals within it because none feel any responsibility toward me, and I feel paralyzed in my own behavior, unable to develop the initiative to sincerely want to transcend the gestalt and act purely in my own interest. I so very deeply wish that I could feel that others were comrades and have them in turn call me the same.

I simply do not want to act in my own immediate self-interest, nor do I believe that I should act in my own immediate self-interest, yet in this culture no-one but me is ever going to look out for my immediate interests. In fact, here it is seen as fundamentally impossible for someone not to act in (or want to act in) their own immediate interest; it is something contrary (goes the dogma) to human nature and human will.

—

I don’t know. Maybe I don’t think all these things. Maybe this relentless self-analysis is just destructive. (Maybe?!) But it remains true nonetheless that there is some fundamental paradox in my being and context that remains central nearly 30 years into my existence.

“Freedom” is a trope invented by the bourgeois to keep the working class working. There is no greater enemy of the common man than “freedom.”

—

Yet another scoring system for politics, but with a twist.

Your scored -4.5 on the Moral Order axis and 5 on the Moral Rules axis.

The following items best match your score:

1. System: Socialism
2. Variation: Extreme Socialism
3. Ideologies: Social Democratism, International Socialism
4. US Parties: No match.
5. Presidents: Jimmy Carter (77.79%)
6. 2004 Election Candidates: Ralph Nader (81.12%), John Kerry (68.36%), George W. Bush (39.04%)

Statistics

Of the 84198 people who took the test:

1. 0.1% had the same score as you.
2. 5% were above you on the chart.
3. 93.9% were below you on the chart.
4. 77.4% were to your right on the chart.
5. 15.9% were to your left on the chart.

What I found most interesting were the relationships between the political variations, ideologies, and religions. Also interesting were the respondent plots by nation.