1.Is there such thing as 'good' guilt?
2.What does this look like?
3.What is the cause of it?
4.At what point does 'good' guilt become 'bad' guilt?
5.What are the origins of evil?
6.What is the Satan to man ratio of evil in the world and personal levels?
7.What about those who do not believe in Satan? Is there problems that go unchecked
by not acknowledging his existence?
8.Should people feel guilty for acts they do not commit? Or to clarify the point further, what about events they unintentionally cause?
9.Furthermore why do people feel guilt for things they have no control over or situations where there was no malicious intent?
10.Is there could be a biological reason for guilt?
11.Why do you think people lie?
12.Why do you think Christians seem to be so afraid to have open minds (even if they disagree with the thought) or watch a movie that might not be right in line with their thoughts or hear a bad word or whatever?
Monday, February 23, 2009
...
Yeah yeah yeah.
...and stuff.
Not much of a lot of stuff.
Just...stuff.
Is that poetically expressive enough?
...and stuff.
Not much of a lot of stuff.
Just...stuff.
Is that poetically expressive enough?
Hmm...
The dentist is indeed a much more cheerful place than I remember...also, it is really hard to whistle when half your face is numb from Novocaine...it's quite sad really...
Odd
I went to the dentist, took a nap while waiting on some dental work to take place and even though the right side of my face is numb...overall I feel...more at peace. I think writing so much earlier helped to loose some more recent fear and disappointments...and at the same time the magical nap helped.
I just have not eaten any food since five yesterday afternoon. So it's been about twenty four hours since I had a meal.
I need to get something soon.
But it's nice to be able the breath and not feel like the walls are collapsing on me right this moment.
I want to keep breathing.
I know it is going to be hard again soon but right now, right now I can breath and not worry about the rest of the world.
This moment is just enough because it contains all the other moments that will ever be.
I just have not eaten any food since five yesterday afternoon. So it's been about twenty four hours since I had a meal.
I need to get something soon.
But it's nice to be able the breath and not feel like the walls are collapsing on me right this moment.
I want to keep breathing.
I know it is going to be hard again soon but right now, right now I can breath and not worry about the rest of the world.
This moment is just enough because it contains all the other moments that will ever be.
Blue Cold Reasoning Jazz
I have nothing to say but everything.
Nothing to do but think of you.
Annoying as it is
I can't do much else
Except laying in
this personalized coffin
painted black and red
showing off my various sins.
I'm not depressed, just as mush as I am tired.
I'm not sick, just as much as I am malfunctioning.
I am not really even me,
when you get down to the base facts,
that guy was never here when you got here.
The facts you think you are hearing in your mind
is just your television set that you can't quite turn off
because you don't need much reality when you have it
at the touch of a button.
Images, videos, and streaming screams,
the worst and worst we have to offer ourselves.
All at the touch and click of a button.
I am out of my element
and out of my time.
I have time but I'm not where I should be.
Running water is nice
but I would rather be running for life
out of this place
and into the future of hope.
I could say I'm sorry
but do we even know what that means now?
I keep loosing track of myself
and my mind.
Just me and Lucifer
and the rest of our kind.
A couple of drinks
to help us ease out minds.
Reflect and regret on all of our lives
and see where it all went wrong.
Trite as it is to regret when all is said and done
one can always hope someone is there
to hear you say "I'm sorry."
even when it seems to be the mantra
of the hour and of the dead.
It all began and will end in this club,
every idea revolving around hope.
Every tattered message
arriving just two days to late.
It's all in your eyes I know
the pain, the fear, the hate
and I don't know what to say.
I never knew except to smile
and that I want to try.
Not even realizing I was quoting myself
and all of my lies.
Not realizing to bother is to care
and the last thing my soul needed
but was to pretend something
that was never true.
It's kind of a sick feeling really.
Nothing I know or can do.
Nothing I want to look at.
It's all just a blue anyways.
Time falling back and forward
and forgetting its place.
Not knowing it should work for us
and not against us
pulling out reality apart
one shred at a time,
one tear at a time.
The reason I feel so sick
is because of knowing how this is all on me
that all of these crimes go back
and will fall on me to answer.
And I've got nothing to say,
no way to defend
no way to explain
or absolve myself of the sin.
Just the knowledge
of always how hollow my grin
and how tired my soul
of pretending
and no longer able to cope
with the merest lie
and the most basic of all these.
It really isn't you,
it is all me.
I can't even say goodbye
because words won't define
the lack of hope.
Words can't convey the fear
and the hurt.
The shock of my own ignorance
and my belligerence
and my stupidity.
My own personal Hell.
Skirting past purgatory
like it was just a bad dream.
If I'm lucky I'll awake
and no longer be in this wood structure,
no longer bound by failing flesh
and a diseased mind.
Not longer buying my way out
and no longer building myself in.
Just maybe a shred of hope
on top of it all.
Realizing it was all for nothing
but maybe there are some left standing,
a few worth knowing that won't
end things thus and this way.
Nothing lasts beyond our fetid hands,
nothing can be grasped for long
because time causes the deepest wounds.
The stronger the love the deeper the cut
the more that will never heal
and the last reminder
of how none of it was worth it after all.
All I want is to be forgotten,
to fade from sight.
Let the steady beat carry me out
of your mind
your imagination.
To wash things clear
and to be forgiven.
For all the things done,
all the pain caused
and for things to be forgotten.
That is my strongest hope.
To let the sands of time
just eat away,
corrode away my pain.
Eat away at the last memories
of how I ended it all
so pitifully.
Just letting things fall apart
as I ignored any sense of worth
and anything that could have made sense.
Just out of sync with reality
and words
and rhyming schemes
and anything worth worrying about.
There just are not words for moments like these.
There just isn't enough of anything
for now
for later
or for forever.
It's all a bit too much
right now.
It's too early anyhow.
Anyway it is formed
it is too early for such endless schemes.
Ridiculous circles not making sense.
I would but I won't
bother to say
goodbye and goodnight.
The lines of communication
are much too poor anyway.
There is too much of a din
too loud of chaos
that I don't even understand anymore.
It just took a few short years to get here
and a life time of sin so compact
and so complicated.
So much unsaid but there is no need
to regret over such little matters
when there is nothing but cold
logic driving the song.
Nothing but necessity
and a few broken words.
There is much more
but don't ask
because there is no need to share.
Just a lot of memories
that can never cease to be.
That are not kind enough to be quiet
and remove themselves from the back.
But that is life,
living it in it's own reasons
and own ways.
No matter how black and off white,
no matter how untidy
and painful.
There is no resolution
or end to this song
because it is free forming and falling.
Just as much as it failed.
Just like this experiment.
Fin.
Nothing to do but think of you.
Annoying as it is
I can't do much else
Except laying in
this personalized coffin
painted black and red
showing off my various sins.
I'm not depressed, just as mush as I am tired.
I'm not sick, just as much as I am malfunctioning.
I am not really even me,
when you get down to the base facts,
that guy was never here when you got here.
The facts you think you are hearing in your mind
is just your television set that you can't quite turn off
because you don't need much reality when you have it
at the touch of a button.
Images, videos, and streaming screams,
the worst and worst we have to offer ourselves.
All at the touch and click of a button.
I am out of my element
and out of my time.
I have time but I'm not where I should be.
Running water is nice
but I would rather be running for life
out of this place
and into the future of hope.
I could say I'm sorry
but do we even know what that means now?
I keep loosing track of myself
and my mind.
Just me and Lucifer
and the rest of our kind.
A couple of drinks
to help us ease out minds.
Reflect and regret on all of our lives
and see where it all went wrong.
Trite as it is to regret when all is said and done
one can always hope someone is there
to hear you say "I'm sorry."
even when it seems to be the mantra
of the hour and of the dead.
It all began and will end in this club,
every idea revolving around hope.
Every tattered message
arriving just two days to late.
It's all in your eyes I know
the pain, the fear, the hate
and I don't know what to say.
I never knew except to smile
and that I want to try.
Not even realizing I was quoting myself
and all of my lies.
Not realizing to bother is to care
and the last thing my soul needed
but was to pretend something
that was never true.
It's kind of a sick feeling really.
Nothing I know or can do.
Nothing I want to look at.
It's all just a blue anyways.
Time falling back and forward
and forgetting its place.
Not knowing it should work for us
and not against us
pulling out reality apart
one shred at a time,
one tear at a time.
The reason I feel so sick
is because of knowing how this is all on me
that all of these crimes go back
and will fall on me to answer.
And I've got nothing to say,
no way to defend
no way to explain
or absolve myself of the sin.
Just the knowledge
of always how hollow my grin
and how tired my soul
of pretending
and no longer able to cope
with the merest lie
and the most basic of all these.
It really isn't you,
it is all me.
I can't even say goodbye
because words won't define
the lack of hope.
Words can't convey the fear
and the hurt.
The shock of my own ignorance
and my belligerence
and my stupidity.
My own personal Hell.
Skirting past purgatory
like it was just a bad dream.
If I'm lucky I'll awake
and no longer be in this wood structure,
no longer bound by failing flesh
and a diseased mind.
Not longer buying my way out
and no longer building myself in.
Just maybe a shred of hope
on top of it all.
Realizing it was all for nothing
but maybe there are some left standing,
a few worth knowing that won't
end things thus and this way.
Nothing lasts beyond our fetid hands,
nothing can be grasped for long
because time causes the deepest wounds.
The stronger the love the deeper the cut
the more that will never heal
and the last reminder
of how none of it was worth it after all.
All I want is to be forgotten,
to fade from sight.
Let the steady beat carry me out
of your mind
your imagination.
To wash things clear
and to be forgiven.
For all the things done,
all the pain caused
and for things to be forgotten.
That is my strongest hope.
To let the sands of time
just eat away,
corrode away my pain.
Eat away at the last memories
of how I ended it all
so pitifully.
Just letting things fall apart
as I ignored any sense of worth
and anything that could have made sense.
Just out of sync with reality
and words
and rhyming schemes
and anything worth worrying about.
There just are not words for moments like these.
There just isn't enough of anything
for now
for later
or for forever.
It's all a bit too much
right now.
It's too early anyhow.
Anyway it is formed
it is too early for such endless schemes.
Ridiculous circles not making sense.
I would but I won't
bother to say
goodbye and goodnight.
The lines of communication
are much too poor anyway.
There is too much of a din
too loud of chaos
that I don't even understand anymore.
It just took a few short years to get here
and a life time of sin so compact
and so complicated.
So much unsaid but there is no need
to regret over such little matters
when there is nothing but cold
logic driving the song.
Nothing but necessity
and a few broken words.
There is much more
but don't ask
because there is no need to share.
Just a lot of memories
that can never cease to be.
That are not kind enough to be quiet
and remove themselves from the back.
But that is life,
living it in it's own reasons
and own ways.
No matter how black and off white,
no matter how untidy
and painful.
There is no resolution
or end to this song
because it is free forming and falling.
Just as much as it failed.
Just like this experiment.
Fin.
A Few Thoughts:
-Food just doesn't taste as good if you have to buy it.
-Taste is as subjective as any opinion but not liking Queen is like saying you do not enjoy breathing. Or me having intelligent conversations with you.
-If I'm negative and you are positive does that mean if we were added together I would win every argument every time?
-Don't they have a voodoo spell for people who aren't comfortable being in their own skin?
-If sleep isn't as important as some people make it out to be why don't more people try giving it up? Instead of sleeping one third of their lives they could sleep only a fifth and live about four times shorter in the process.
-If I like musical diversity, does this mean I can't have my Cake cd and listen to it at the same time?
-Is it simple nostalgia for a child hood with so few good memories but hasn't music simply gotten worse as time has gone on? I don't care how postmodern a person is booms, clicks and terrible rhyming structure simply does not make something a song.
-Sometimes U2 makes me sad over all the underused potential.
-I'm really in the mood to be hopeful but I'm too tired. Plus I have a dentist appointment later today.
-I used to think I had a problem with just wanting pills to fix everything and then quite like Dr.House I just have a pain problem.
-Somedays I wish a zombie apocalypse would happen just to be able to prove moral relativity wrong. But then again that is like saying playing baseball with live hand grenades will make a little league team better prepared to take on a professional ball team.
-But the great thing about zombies are that they are the great equalizer...and proof George A. Romero is awesome.
-The fact I'm still writing this is also proof I need to be slapped across my head, or something just as motivating.
-Taste is as subjective as any opinion but not liking Queen is like saying you do not enjoy breathing. Or me having intelligent conversations with you.
-If I'm negative and you are positive does that mean if we were added together I would win every argument every time?
-Don't they have a voodoo spell for people who aren't comfortable being in their own skin?
-If sleep isn't as important as some people make it out to be why don't more people try giving it up? Instead of sleeping one third of their lives they could sleep only a fifth and live about four times shorter in the process.
-If I like musical diversity, does this mean I can't have my Cake cd and listen to it at the same time?
-Is it simple nostalgia for a child hood with so few good memories but hasn't music simply gotten worse as time has gone on? I don't care how postmodern a person is booms, clicks and terrible rhyming structure simply does not make something a song.
-Sometimes U2 makes me sad over all the underused potential.
-I'm really in the mood to be hopeful but I'm too tired. Plus I have a dentist appointment later today.
-I used to think I had a problem with just wanting pills to fix everything and then quite like Dr.House I just have a pain problem.
-Somedays I wish a zombie apocalypse would happen just to be able to prove moral relativity wrong. But then again that is like saying playing baseball with live hand grenades will make a little league team better prepared to take on a professional ball team.
-But the great thing about zombies are that they are the great equalizer...and proof George A. Romero is awesome.
-The fact I'm still writing this is also proof I need to be slapped across my head, or something just as motivating.
A Moment of Thought on Hope
Three parts self delusion, two parts the hope of the future, a third of it is the magic of life, whereas another fourth of it is reassurance in the dark of the night and lest I forget another fifteenth of it is my inability to process math and by math I specifically mean fractions.
Medicated Thoughts
There is a rather large hole in me that keeps trying to get filled.
Nothing I put in works, all it odes it make the edges crumble in and make the hole larger and more efficient at causing me to be in great pain.
Some wounds may never heal, every attempt to fix it seems to make it worse.
It's less dramatic than it sounds but practically speaking I'm not sure where to begin trying to change things.
My soul is grieved over the pain I see, I experience, I cause, I try to heal and that is around and in me.
I feel like the darkness and light in me are such a combination that it drives people away, friends I dearly miss but that I do not know how to communicate with anymore because I feel so alien, so different, so strange, so apart from the rest of life.
The annoying thing is I sound like a broken record and have literally posted hundreds of posts on here about this same thing.
Personally I am annoyed by it.
What am I doing here?
Where am I going if anywhere?
What is the point?
Honestly.
Words.
What more?
Cycles?
Cyclic pain and death?
Circles we draw in sand and then attempt to understand based upon previous experience and whatever convenient lies we make up along the way?
I pray for a quick end to this reality.
I cannot understand or handle whatever it is I am.
I'm so tired of myself and all of these useless words and posts.
I wish I could find either absolution for all of the pain I've caused or I find a way to ease into the next life much easier.
I don't care, honestly I don't.
It is hard to keep focus when I am on so much useless medicine that makes it almost impossible for me to focus or be able to do anything worthwhile.
So much pain
Right now.
So little purpose.
Nothing I put in works, all it odes it make the edges crumble in and make the hole larger and more efficient at causing me to be in great pain.
Some wounds may never heal, every attempt to fix it seems to make it worse.
It's less dramatic than it sounds but practically speaking I'm not sure where to begin trying to change things.
My soul is grieved over the pain I see, I experience, I cause, I try to heal and that is around and in me.
I feel like the darkness and light in me are such a combination that it drives people away, friends I dearly miss but that I do not know how to communicate with anymore because I feel so alien, so different, so strange, so apart from the rest of life.
The annoying thing is I sound like a broken record and have literally posted hundreds of posts on here about this same thing.
Personally I am annoyed by it.
What am I doing here?
Where am I going if anywhere?
What is the point?
Honestly.
Words.
What more?
Cycles?
Cyclic pain and death?
Circles we draw in sand and then attempt to understand based upon previous experience and whatever convenient lies we make up along the way?
I pray for a quick end to this reality.
I cannot understand or handle whatever it is I am.
I'm so tired of myself and all of these useless words and posts.
I wish I could find either absolution for all of the pain I've caused or I find a way to ease into the next life much easier.
I don't care, honestly I don't.
It is hard to keep focus when I am on so much useless medicine that makes it almost impossible for me to focus or be able to do anything worthwhile.
So much pain
Right now.
So little purpose.
Showbread lyrics
To be common place would be unique,
But we’re so obscure we’re incoherent,
Like tongueless vigilantes choking just to make you choke,
Rattling, rattling,
No nails to hold ideas in place, no expression on your face
Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant,
Like osteoporosis, she’s brittle she is broken
Static comes through synthesizers, megaphones and drum machines,
Beauty sounds like smashed guitars,
And several references to feedback,
Rattling, rattling,
No surgery to save your life,
No promise everything’s all right
Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant,
Like osteoporosis she’s brittle and she is broken,
Languages must be organic because like flies they fall and die,
Music now sleeps with Latin and Aramaic,
It’s over, it’s over,
No more waiting for something to live for,
It’s over, it’s over,
Everything is dying and we want something more
-"The Bell Jar", Showbread
But we’re so obscure we’re incoherent,
Like tongueless vigilantes choking just to make you choke,
Rattling, rattling,
No nails to hold ideas in place, no expression on your face
Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant,
Like osteoporosis, she’s brittle she is broken
Static comes through synthesizers, megaphones and drum machines,
Beauty sounds like smashed guitars,
And several references to feedback,
Rattling, rattling,
No surgery to save your life,
No promise everything’s all right
Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant,
Like osteoporosis she’s brittle and she is broken,
Languages must be organic because like flies they fall and die,
Music now sleeps with Latin and Aramaic,
It’s over, it’s over,
No more waiting for something to live for,
It’s over, it’s over,
Everything is dying and we want something more
-"The Bell Jar", Showbread
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