The wise say that a house divided against itself cannot stand.

The wise say that truth is independent of gods and men.

The wise then know, that the real god is simply truth--a state of linguistic virtue of the living mind.

To devote one'self to another person creates a house divided against itself.

One devotes one's life to the attainment of virtue--which is not some platitude, but linguistic integrity.

The wise know that if we do that, all else will follow, all else that is right and good, simply follows because we have but one job to do, and there is but one way to do it.

An idea Confucius saw. An idea Plato saw, yet so long ago, where are the armies of men that should have followed in their footsteps? Instead a humanity hell bent on dividing its own house--and claiming it a holy cause in the name of false gods.

It begins with perception, why do you think Christ performed miracles? They were perceptual metaphors, perception is the cornerstone, and man still rejects it--thinking they praise him, but in so doing deny the very principles he lived by.

now it is time for mind, yet men still reject perception.

Christ was a messenger, not the message.

The Serpent spoke but twice in the garden, so long ago he spoke once, it all amounted to what did truth say? and they answered, crucify him.
and so soon shall speak again, this time they will say nothing, for he shall speak plainly.

Well, aren't we a pitiful lot. Such easy ideas and we strain under them as if they were mountains.

I don't like being here, it makes me ill. I have to learn, and I cannot do it when my heart hurts so bad, and so constantly driving me to waste my time with those who have no desire to understand. When one hungers not, it is because they are dead. I have to learn to ignore it, knowing there is no cure. There is not flame but that began first as a spark.

We do unto others as we do to ourselves. We seek not the integrity of ourselves, as mind, we can never be true, with anything, or anyone.

If love is the least bit important, then it is the beam in our own eye we must remove to see it.

We are a mole, with bad eyes in the dark, and we see with words, with reasoning, with judgment, in our beginning, as life, is the word. It is not a platitude, it is linguistic virtue, maps of reality we create to live by.

How can anyone stand to be on a website the deluges one with a parade of advertised whores? How can anyone not be repulsed by it?

How can anyone be satisfied living in a very sick sociopathic environment?

Damn,

I could not sleep. Did I owe anyone an explanation? not really. then why is my pathetic *** here?

I was given the gift of a ceramic mug, made specially for me, inscribed; it is black and a serpent wraps around one edge to make the handle. Relevant, yes - I'm supposed to fall under the thirteenth zodiacal sign, Ophiuchus - the serpent holder.

It's ****ing cold.

If I missed my bus and had a day pass when I catch the 12:18 number 22 going back to the transit center will he make me pay the two dollar fare? Only if the day's been rough, I think, or otherwise do they really ever check those cameras on the buses here?

Well, then, I want that man's job. No, not the job. That man's job. I want to take it from him. He doesn't deserve it. I've never met him but I'm sure of it. He probably drinks too much and makes lude comments towards underage girls while drinking peppermint schnapps in dark alleyways. His car is a mausoleum of empty beer cans and disturbing pornography, a collection of chilly willies in torn black bags masking disturbingly ancient Sears catalog models opened to pages so specific you will never know their meaning.

Mausoleum was the word for the day. It came up twice and was relevant once.

McDonald's charged me 47 cents for a refill. California is expensive. And beautiful.

I got lost in the mountains today.

I didn't even know there were mountains there.

I find it really irritating when my roommates don't make the effort to move my brand new tea kettle off the stove when they're cooking greasy food that splatters across it. It's three days old and it looks disgusting. Just put the damn thing on the counter. It's one of two utensils I own and you've managed to dirty it without even using it, without even giving my inanimate gift the glory of a purpose. And there's chai. You missed out on chai tea for some messy egg and rice dish.

I need more Ramen.

A Million Little Pieces is a great book. I like it more now that I know the writer is a liar.

The great tragedy of my life is that my city's name lacks any real authority in the aesthetic; nobody believes a tragedy about San Jose. I don't find it to be pretty.

Inventing tragedy = a good day.

Tree spiders?

ready.
set.
go;

how come i don't think in full sentences like the above people?
something's wrong with me.
duh.
i appreciate their thoughts though.
or the fact they share em.
beanies make my head warm.
andres.
cds?
dvds.
i need to paint something with these paint pens.
what?
something.
that other thread asking what was the most beautiful thing you saw in your day made me sad.
i have no answer.
something worse is when i was asked what i learned that day.
what the **** did you learn bianca?
nothing.
that's ****ing sad.
i blame the interwebs.
i need to get rid of this laptop for at least a week.
during that time i shall produce beard art.
i miss the hoe.
i wish we could have spent more time together.
i miss you oregon.
dandelions.
ha.
that stupid painting.
i'm sure it means **** to you.
i wonder why you tell me i make you cry,
yet you don't even communicate with me.
you don't even try.
and i don't try communicating with you because i feel like i'm annoying you.
/:
****.
spider webs.
ants.
where's mona?
it's been a week since i've seen her.
i miss her cute little smile.
i want a puppy.
that ivan dude impresses me with his vernacular spectacular.
russia?
vodka.
vodka slushies?
gross.
australia?
kangaroos.
ha.
i remember that guy who went there told me he'd bring me something.
and i ran into him.
awkwardnesssssssssss.
adriana?
i wonder what she thinks about life.
i wonder what a lot of people think about life.
i think ese's pissed.
oh well.
a lot of people don't like honesty.
i wonder why.
i love it.
i don't care if i cry because of it.
i'd rather cry over the truth than smile because of a lie.
*****.
i'm hungry.
pancakes?
it's ten am.
i need a life.
the best day is a day i spend with you.
wonder when that'll happen.
i love you.
i think.
****.
i'm done.
do i curse a lot?
i wonder.

I forgot my lunch at home. Sad. It didn't get to serve its purpose. Have to decide what to get from the roach coach. Greasy. I've never eaten at a diner called The Greasy Spoon. Spoon!! The Tick. I miss that cartoon. There's 9 people living next door. Good grief, that house is smaller than the one I'm in. My other neighbor is paranoid. He tells me there is always someone walking around on his roof. He tried to blame the power going out at his house on my Satellite dish because he said it ricocheted the signal through his window. I miss Monsters HD. 24/7 horror movies. I'm going to get a greasy burrito for lunch. Or maybe a corndog. How many people actually eat the Cinema hotdogs? I wish there were drive ins around here, I've never gotten to experience hiding my friends in the trunk to save on ticket prices. I haven't had to put on my snow tire yet.
It's almost lunch time I'm hungry. Probably shouldn't eat a burrito. I want fries and gravy. I haven't loaned a book to anyone in months. I haven't borrowed a book in years. Maybe a hamburger. I shouldn't do this when I'm hungry.

Yes, tree spiders.
Waiting for you to pass.
Then they drop.
I think they're just lonely.
Maybe they want to feed the mallards with me.

A mallard bit my finger today. It was more of a nibble. No malice to it. I really wanted to see if I could hand feed a mallard, and I can, but in the process I almost fed him my hand as well.

So very literal, this hand feeding.

He bit the hand that fed him.

I gave him a full piece of bread after that and he waddled off into solitude, nibbling away. He was an all white duck and a couple male mallards went after him trying to grab the piece out of his mouth. It was really cute.

Are ducks racists?

I think everyone is a racist. And if you look in a mirror every day you're going to hell if you believe in one.

I miss The Tick cartoon too. And The Critic.

You don't know how happy it makes me when I ask you if you want to get something to eat and you respond, "I'm pretty broke right now."

Not because you're broke, but because that's one more thing we have in common. *smile*

I think that my general disposition would benefit from more jazz and less Elliott Smith.

I find my ideas about personal attachment to be muddled and assumptive.

I can't stand people who are incapable of making eye contact. Do you not like my eyes? Why not? They're awesome.

Wanted to get special juice but the card wouldn't read my non-cash rectangle. Some other day.

This is probably my favorite thread right now.

Happiness makes me uncomfortable.

I'm not scared anymore, but a bit somber sometimes.

The sunset glued purple and pink streaks in the sky and clouds hissed down hints of grey lining. I found it to be quite beautiful, and it was dark by the time I got off the bus.

I can't say for sure if mallards like white or wheat bread more. I tried seeing any discernible signs of preferred interest but I think they're just down for whatever.

The pond reminds me of home.

And then I remember that I am home.

And I never want to go back to the place I was from.

Got a letter today. It made me feel unique. It made me feel artistic. It was something about lives intersecting and how ours didn't, but should have, at some other point. That what we got was too brief.

If you like video games check out Zero Punctuation. Very witty reviews by an English born, Australian dwelling twenty-something year old guy. And he has facial hair.

That's what I'm about to watch.

I love getting handwritten letters.

it's damn cold
well not really
but in the morning it is
Dominoes lied to me
curse them and their deception
curse me for falling for it
he's late
I hate late
starting late means ending late
and I have crap to do
not important crap
well important to me
I love Amorphis
but who doesn't
lots of people
but they are misguided
still late
texted him
get the hell up
get the hell dressed
get the hell over here
my dog farted
I really hate that
but what the hell can I do
buy a cork I suppose
but that would lead to all sorts of problems
I just know it
there is too much traffic here
and really crummy music turned up too loud
do they know their music is crummy
of course they do
this is just revenge
if my music sucked I would blast it to
uh-oh
no answer
probably still sleeping
lazy bum
my stereo is dusty
everything is dusty
wonder if I should dust
probably
eventually
I promise
about time he answered

deep breath...
**** you.
**** you.
**** you.
i think i finally got the 'just friends' talk today.
and that's fine.
i wish i could do that.
but i don't think i can.
maybe that's what's known as obsession.
****.
****.
****.
blondie.
i hate blondes.
then why do i like you?
i pour my little heart out to you and all you have to say is;
mmm. taco bell.
taco bell?
really?
you're going to mention taco bell to a mexican.
gahhh.
i need to choke you.
no s&m.
but serial killer type of choke.
jawli;sedghk[woaeislhdfgk[woeaisldhfgk[weorausdlhfjw[creoasduhg.
scream.
jelly beans.
jelly belly factory.
candy.
neck.
i think i have to stop talking to you cold turkey.
you don't make me smile anymore.
i'm done with you.
is that mean?
maybe.
but you're not particularly nice to me.
i'm sure if i explained stuff to other people they'd say you're a douche.
but i don't care what other people say.
****.
****.
****.
go away.
i was scared you hated me.
but now i want you to hate me.
i want you to tell me to **** off.
****.
this is suppose to be a stream of consciousness.
my thoughts.
instead i'm having a conversation with you.
damn you.
well not conversation since you're not responding.
mostly because you can't.
although you probably wouldn't say anything if you read all this.
****.
i'm crazy.
i need to paint.
painting is the only thing worth my time.
i need to run away.
i want to go to san francisco.
i want to sit and observe life.
not mine.
i have none.
soup?
maybe.
laughter.
ha.
i was happy today til you talked to me.
and it's only eleven am.
now i have to spend all day trying to be happy again.
beards?
yes.
beards.
i'll start sketching beard ideas out.
maybe i should get beard models?
hm.
would that be creepy?
maybe.
tpain?
wtf.
birds.
nuts.
censor.
censor.
censor.
i'm alone.
nothing new.
i wonder what it feels like to have someone there for you.
quit ****ing reading my thoughts and thinking you know me.
this is but a sliver of a thought of an hour of a day of a week of a month of a year of my life.
in other words;
nothing.

"Here's how my brain works - it's stupidity, then self hatred, followed by further analysis." - Louis CK.

Stream of consciousness can have quotes.
I sleep too much, which isn't better or worse
than not getting enough sleep
if I'm producing the same amount of material.
I don't like titles anymore.
They're boring.
I try to remember how I felt about things as a child.

Not how I acted as a child, because
when I was a child
I wanted to grow up so that
adults would take me seriously.

I try to remember how I felt, all
insecure and confused and loving and open.
I enjoyed candy and cheap beer.
So I guess, health wise,
I'm at least one step up from six.

Ramen in the morning, Ramen in the evening, Ramen at suppertime. When Ramen's on a bagel it can be ****ing disgusting anytime, so I eat it out of a cup.

Is panic an emotion?

BevMo! is a store in California.
They sell Faygo.
When I called to see if they do, the guy actually went out on the floor and read me every flavor they carry.
He seemed just as excited to report this information as
I was to hear it.
Root beer, red, orange. Haha. My favorite soda's flavors are colors.

Does BevMo! serve booze? Is it just some chaser/alcohol specialist? Some alcoholic emporium?

How often does someone get to use the term emporium in a non-sardonic way?

Open mic tonight.

My friend had an open mic yesterday in Pittsburgh.

I wished him luck.
On facebook.
Now that's friendship.

But then I texted him and asked for his address because he's an awesome friend who moved to the east side of the country the day before I left for the west side of the country,
and he deserves a handwritten letter.

And eventually and inevitability are so frustrating.
Instant gratification.
Work.
Get paid.
Die.
Someone else pays.
Cynical.
Grim.
Gargoyles.
That was a TV show.

There are three cats that play in my back yard. It makes me happy.

But they don't play with each other.

I guess it's dumb to think that just because they have the whole "being a cat" thing in common that's enough to warrant spending time with each other.

I think about people. There's a lot of time I'd rather play with cats. And a lot of time the cats would rather play with people.

I think everyone gets tired of everything.

i don't really feel like doing this today,
but it's almost somewhat therapeutic.
here goes nothinnn;
white hinterland?
aaamazing voice.
drums.
banjo?
that kid needs to tell me how much he wants.
a hat?
i look gross in hats.
if i wrote you a love note,
something something,
what would you do?
oh wait.
i did.
and you did nothing.
:D
sombrero.
what's with me and sombreros?
cream cheese.
it's going to kill me.
beetlejuice.
shake, shake, shake senora.
is it suppose to say señora?
i wonder.
tilde.
i like that word.
i'm glad i started making stuff.
it gives me weird feelings of accomplishment.
not just now,
always.
good grades didn't make me feel accomplished in school.
starting and finishing stuff did though.
i like sketching something out and watching my hands do random **** to translate it from head to physical item.
lesbians?
why are men turned on by them?
hm.
i still believe i'm bi.
i don't feel like trying it out though.
sex isn't appealing to me right now at all.
weirdness.
i'm weird.
makes sense.
soap?
bubbles.
large bubbles.
hula hoops.
move your hips.
belly dancing?
i can do it.
mona.
yessssssssss.
i get to see her today.
i can't wait to see her little gorgeous smile.
sometimes i wonder if people have kids just to have reasons to live.
who would die knowing they're going to leave something as cute as mona behind?
no one.
i just want back in your head.
oh hellllllllll no.
go away.
ants.
haven't seen many anymore.
i'm hungry.
potatoes.
maps.
mister potato head.
shoulder.
crying.
when's the last time i cried?
hmmm.
last night?
i did cry a little.
oh wait.
no i didn't.
that was the night before.
yeah.
i woke up looking like crap.
nothing new.
february.
ha.
oh say, say, say.
wait they don't love you like i love you.
well i don't care about you anymore.
i sure get over people fast.
wait.
two years isn't fast, bianca.
you dumbass.
go make ****.
damn it.
i need beards.
i need tons of beard pictures.
i already have over a hundred images,
but more never hurt.
it's like beard porn.
i don't masturbate to it though.
or do i?
no.
shut up.
i haven't used stumble upon in a while.
i wonder what my life will be like in ten years.
if i still have a life.
hm.
censor.
censor.
censor.
can't share those thoughts on here.
sharpies.
tattoos.
i haven't been doing my super deep thinking lately.
the meaning of life and all that ********.
that's why i haven't been blogging.
i'm on the upside.
bipolar.
ha.
bipolar disorder leads to hypersexuality.
once i go to the other end it's going to hit me like a ton of bricks.
it always does.
weirdness.
drugs?
no.
no.
no.
what if you take drugs and then your art goes to hell?
ha.
like it's any good now.
but still.
arg.
arg.
arg.
my hands are cold.
should i see someone?
hm.
yesterday my sister asked if i was depressed.
without skipping a beat i said no.
liar.
you're a liar.
rhetorical question, no?
it's like asking how i am.
fine.
liar.
you're a liar.
but rhetorical question, no?

my head is goin to blow up

explode or implode?

Implode n i guess you are a nerd :D

you had doubt?

I thought you were a tomboy

one cannot be both?

Hmmmm could be. Most of the tomboys i know got brains like a real smarta$$. But you? No no no! You look innocent. Dont get me wrong

because we all know i'm not a smartass.

Haha

Life, in of itself, has no meaning. That is an anthropomorphic thought.

Meaning is a function of our job, it is our intention. One has no meaning, when they cannot reason.
Patanjali, parallel walking. As we see, so we think, where we go.

I am want to say, that there are no amount of words that can make a person deeper than dew, and, I would be right. This is due to the naming convention, a concept not even taught? Have not found it except in Plato.

But then, how does one help others participate in the convention of names? Example it through the work in geometry? The how does one lay down the principles of common grammar such that concepts are not only learned, but applied? Is it hopeless? or, more probably, I am still too stupid to figure it out.