|Reading these suicide pages you will find people seeking help and people offering their help. Some witness about suicide from real life experience, others who play along with me would pretend it's a children's game. Some make sick and cruel jokes about it, and angry people blame me for even mentioning the subject. You might also want to read my favourite answers. If you want your answer to be included here, fill in the form.|
What is the best way to kill yourself when you're under 13?
Quelle est la meilleure forme de suicide pour les moins de 13 ans?
|29 Jun 2004||billy the freak||i didn't bother to announce myself when i finally decided to walk through the door. i opened it slowly half expecting it to creek loudly. it didn't creek, the pins and hinges moved smoothly. i guess miss thatchet can spare a squirt of oil when you pay your rent on time. felicia always had priorities. i snuck down the hall like a rapist moving in on his pray. i came to the living room and immediately saw falicia staring out the window. she must not have noticed me because she kept staring, kept tapping her pen on her notebook. so i sidestepped till i was directly behind her at about ten paces.
she didn't know i was there. my stealthiness excited me there was a warm sensation running through my face and loins. the wind blowing through the window sent wisps of her hair into a swirl, i felt like ravishing her. instead i tip toed up to her and and covered her eyes with my hands.
"guess who?" i whispered.
immediately she elbowed me in the groin. by the time i doubled over she was standing and grabbed me by my hair and pulled me forward into the chair she was sitting on. i tripped and fell by then she had the chair over her head ready to crash into me. it amazes me the will of instinct.
"damn it falicia chill out!" i pleaded.
"billy you bastard!" she screamed. "don't you knock. i was so scared i would of killed you." i believed her. i got up and shook myself to my senses.
"i thought we were on a no knock basis." i said as i rubbed my head were she had grabbed the handful of my mange.
"we WAS on a no knock basis." she said. "when we was knocking boots. but you can't come in and out of here like you do my life, okay."
"yeah." i answered.
"so what do you want? to drop another dead body, because miss thatchet said no more till you pay up on your rent."
"no nothing like that. i...i..." i stuttered.
"what the hell do you want billy!." she spit at me. she was obviously upset and now i felt like leaving. i franticly looked around for an answer and saw the book shelf.
"i came to get the copy of guns and ammo i left here." i lied.
"i am pretty sure you got them all billy." she huffed impatiently. " take a look."
i went over to the book shelf and started looking through her magazines. woman's health, trim, and shape. luckily i found a copy of guns and ammo i had left and gave an internal sigh of relief.
"did you find it?" she asked now sitting in her chair again staring out the window and tap tap tapping.
"yep, august 2001 the one i was missing." i said as i read the date off the top again lying to her.
"good, then if you will i am busy i got many things on my mind." she politely told me to leave.
then i noticed the half eaten chocolate easter bunny on the top of the book shelf. i thought about the weight magazines and the bunny that has been sitting there since easter and it hit me.
"falicia have you lost weight? not saying that you are fat or anything but you are looking trimmer." in all actuality i didn't notice a difference, she looked like the same old beautiful falicia to me.
"oh billy you noticed. i lost eight and a half pounds and i centered it around my mid section. i worked so hard and dieted so long. you was the first person to notice. you know i am not the one to around bragging but..." she was about to go on one of thous emotion filled rants about life and goals so i decided to interrupt her.
"falicia, now that i am on you lighter side..." i stopped to smile at her so that she caught my pun.
" i feel that it is time that we try to make our relationship work. no more in and out just for the in and out."
"billy i can't go through anymore heart ache with you your lucky we are still friends." she sighed."you know i will always love you. i just can't carry the weight of your baggage."
after such a heartfelt turndown i decided against just coming out and asking for sex.
"well then do you mind if i just hang out for the weekend i am lonely and feeling down and you were the first person i thought of. in fact when i get down you are the only person i think of. i mean your not seeing any one right now right." i asked sheepishly.
"wadda ya say?"
"okay billy but no freaky stuff because i will throw you in the closet." she pointed her finger directly in my face.
"i would never." i protested.
"yes you would." this time she poked the finger in my chest. "besides our friend from england is coming. i was going to have you up here anyway."
"lucy is coming. that is great." my mind quickly filled with thoughts of a threesome. when will she be here?"
"well billy, i don't now how to tell you this, but lucy is really a guy." she bit her lip and waited for a reply.
"what are you saying" i said confused.
"lucy is a seventeen year old homosexual male named phil." she again waited for me to say something. when she noticed i was going to be silent she continued." he came out in england and and now he wants us to help him come out in america."
"now i know why lucy kept me under the bed and would not let me touch her...er...him. oh my goodness!" my mind started to race. my dreams started to crumble. the very ground i standed on seem soft like gelatin. "what the fucking hell."
"look billy, lucy is a part of phil. an alter-ego if you will. to know all of lucy you got to know phil. and to know phil is to know all of lucy. got it. try to be open minded." her words sounded good enough i guess.
"so when is she...he coming?" i asked.
"tomarrow morning." she replyed. "does this mean you are going to behave?"
"it is like you said lucy is phil, phil is lucy, i love lucy so i will at least learn to like phil." falicia got up and hugged me.
"good. we are having brunch at the hotel at ten you two will have plenty time to talk." she sat down and this time she wasn't staring or tapping she was writing. i leaned down and asked her what this was all about with the window and the notebook she said she was inspired.
when i asked by what she told me to look at the vacant lot across the street and asked me what i saw.
" a few bums sleeping, some trash, and a shopping cart full of aluminum cans." all of a sudden i needed a drink.
"no silly look harder." she said whimsically.
"don't see anything falicia." i said.
"of coarse you don't you don't see the positive in any thing. look down the middle where the street light is and look a little left." i did and i saw a yellow flower
growing out of a crack in the asphalt. all i saw was shit. falicia saw something beautiful in that pile of shit. at that moment i understood her just a little bit more. now i need that drink.
|26 Jun 2004||Apollo Smile||Just for the record, the haven all memes depend on reaching is the human mind, but a human mind is itself an artifact created when memes restructure a human brain in order to make it a better habitat for memes.
We are built as gene machines and cultured as meme machines, but we have the power to turn against our creators. We, alone on earth, can rebel against the tyranny of the selfish replicators.
|26 Jun 2004||Mackellar||Just for the record, waking up on drugs in a morgue with your pubic hair shaved and some sharp plastic thing shoved up your penis doesn't necessarily make you a real artist.|
|26 Jun 2004||Elena||Dariusz? Are you out there?
I have had fitful sleep for several nights now. Sunday morning around 6:30 after working on music all night, I went outside and walked around the garden until 7:40 a.m. I put out a new birdseed in the feeder that I see from my kitchen window called Hot Meats which contains peppers. I had not realized that birds enjoy hot peppers. The light was so beautiful early this morning. I looked around in amazement at how beautiful my land is and how lush and private the grounds around the house are this time of year. I have a lot of memories here. I have been working on music every night and doing my best to keep a clear head and not make more mistakes in judgment. I made a reckless mistake in recent history. I made an impulsive decision based on my fairy tale belief in Romance instead of clinical logic. It was not in my best interest to have succumbed to my passion and the lesson I hope I learned is to have the discipline to contain that drive and that desire and not let desire cloud my thinking. I realize now just how much the childhood fantasy tales Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella and such have an impact on women's lives. How many of us believe in Prince Charming and being rescued by a man?
The new version of ... ME ... has been in construction and is coming soon. DISCIPLINE
D I S C I P L I N E
|26 Jun 2004||Elena||If there is one thing I can say with conviction that I have learned in my life, it is that you can ultimately only count on yourself. Sometimes I reflect on all of the wasted time and energy resulting from the projects/ activities/romantic involvements/etc with which I have become entangled thus far. Now in my life, I find that I am again missing male energy. I love the beautiful male anatomy and being close to a man is joyous. Yet men have always been shy around me and I have always been in the position of the pursuer. Sometimes I am comfortable with being without a lover and other times, I miss having a lover. I am still looking for great romance. I am still wondering if I will find it. With all of the things in life a woman could give their energy to, I still see the desire in me.
Is this my downfall ??
|25 Jun 2004||billy the freak||i sat in my lonely apartment staring at the clock for what seemed an eternity, but in all actuality i was only seventeen minutes i know because i was looking at the clock. i then decided i needed some excitement so i would travel up the steps of the apartment complex to the tippy top floor to see an old friend. however, i needed to be quiet becuase on the very next floor my landady miss thatchet sat watching daytime television. i don't have her rent money and i don't plan on having it till next month and i just don't want to deal with the confrontation, so i will tip toe up the steps. when i came to the front of miss thatchet's door i heard the tv blaring the words JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!
SHE'S A WHORE! SHE'S A WHORE! and came to the conclusion she was watching that trash jerry springer. TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF! only ignorent people could watch that show and be entertained. then i thought of miss thatchet and realized it makes sence. i thought i was home free when i passed her door and started up the steps. i got a little lax and wasn't paying attention. i stepped on the biggest cockroach i had ever seen. with a loud pop it's yellow guts hit the wall.
the next thing i heard was the voice of the devil. i was caught.
"billy you little punk!" she hissed through lips that held a non-filter kool.
"do you got my money? i tell from looking at you you ain't got my money you look pathetic that's how i know.
i found in these situation i is just best to agree withe her.
"yes miss thatchet i am pathetic and i don't have your money. i'll have it next month."
her eyes widened. her lip quivered.
"you will have it next month or you will have new locks on the door and all your shit will be in my storage untill i get my fucking money!" she must have strained her vocal chords with that last display of verbal assult becuase she started to cough. little specs of spit hit my face and her cigarette hit the floor.
"do yo hear me?" she stomped the cigarette out with her bare foot.
"yes ma'am." i gulped.
"now go up there and see your little bitch girlfriend." she slammed the door in my face.
JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!
i climbed the steps to the top floor and looked at the sign on the door.
FELICIA THE GREAT
THE ALL KNOWING
ADVISOR WHO WAS
BORN IN THE YEAR
OF THE MONKEY
|19 Jun 2004||Bec||Hey everyone, I recently found this website whilst doing an assignment on teenage suicide. whilst doing this assignment i had done a lot of research but nothing really gave me the answers as to why someone would feel so much hate for themself and thier world that they would want to kill themself. I mean, my life is far from perfect and yeah, sometimes i even wish that i could just curl up and die but i never really thought that i would be able to go throuh with killing myself. Suicide is such a truamatic thing and it really does affect everyone. whilst reading people's entries it constantly came up that "no one would care if i wasnt here and if i was dead" but i really do believe that there are people out there that really do care- you might just need to give them a chance or open up a bit. Also as i was reading poeple's entries i couldnt help but think about the loved ones and just how they would feel if they knew this is how you were feeling. I mean im sure that they would care, its just maybe they dont have a single clue about how ur feeling. I think of my brother's close friend who killed himslef and i think about all the tears everyone went through. It was just such an awful thing to happen because no one really had no idea it was coming and that really hurt his family the most- because they could've helped him if only they knew what he was going through. I am constantly thinking about his family and his friends and my brother because i think about how they must be feeling and how much they must be hurting inside, and then i realise that he must have really wanted to just get out of this world because he was feeling such pain and whilst i still dont know any of you and my advice seems worthless,just try and think about how you'd feel if you lost someone that you really did care about because that is how they will feel if they lose you.You are probably reading this and thinking "woah this girl has no clue, shes just doing some stupid report..." but i know that i cannot relate to any of you, because i have not experienced the same things and are not in the same circumstances but I would just like to say that you are all really brave to be able to talk about suicide and how its affecting your life and your close family and friends. Thankyou all for helping me to realise just how you must be feeling and why this world is causing you so much pain.|
|19 Jun 2004||Chris||I recently read an article in the Sunday Times of London which sent a shiver down my spine. Microsoft's British engineers have just launched something called the Sense-Cam and once again science fiction is set to become part of our daily lives. The Sense-Cam is a tiny device, which can easily be disguised as a badge or a brooch, that can capture up to 2000 images every twelve hours. These images can then be downloaded to a computer and heaven knows what done with them. Just think about it guys, when you leave the house in the morning and your mother or wife pins your Sense-Cam to your shirt you had better behave for the next twelve hours because you will be handing it over for scrutiny at the end of the day... No more "what a day I have had at college/work" when you have been fishing all day! And talking of work or college, I presume there would be nothing to stop your boss (the one that pays you, not the one in the skirt at home) dishing out his own Sense-Cam for you, then there is your aunty who worries that you aren't eating properly, and your bank manager, and doctor, and the government, and your sister in America and... you get my point, I'm sure. It would be a very short time until you couldn't walk for the weight of your Sense-Cams all issued by those who want to control every bit of your life. Although I'm certain that they would soon find a way to share the pictures. Bill Gates is apparently so excited that he asked for two prototypes for his own children. I bet his kids are not quite so excited about the fact that he can now monitor their every move. Personally it would give me nightmares if I knew what any memebers of my family were doing every waking minute of their day, I worry enough as it is without having it all confirmed digitally. I can't even begin to imagine my own life if anyone close to me ever got his/her hands on one of these damned things. It just doesn't bear thinking about, no more beach, no more bars, no more admiring the girls in their summer clothes (or lack of them), no more feet up and with a book, coffee and cigarette while supposed to be decorating the lounge... stop now! Life is not worth living how it is, even with all the the simple private pleasures we enjoy, let alone without them. Microsoft people are promoting the fact that the Sense-Cam will make it possible for everyone to have a visual diary of their lives and generations to come will be able to see how we really lived. I'm sorry but I would spin in my grave if my great grandchildren were checking out exactly how dull and boring their great granddad Chris really was... no one thinks that I have a life now. Jim Carrey I certainly am not and turning my life into the Truman show with a Sense-Cam would probably make the world's dullest viewing.
See ya in hell!
|17 Jun 2004||Elena||Bereavement is a darkness impenetrable to the imagination of the unbereaved. ~Iris Murdoch
...Every one can master a grief but he that has it. ...Men can counsel and speak comfort to that grief which they themselves not feel.
The true test of intelligence is not how much we know how to do, but how we behave when we don't know what to do. ~John Holt
Words: Those bites of communication that others use about us, which serve to perpetuate their misunderstanding about the effects of grief.
Companion Through the Darkness
|05 Jun 2004||Gingerbread Man||Lie awake at night. Remember every time when you didn't do what you should've, because you were lazy, or embarassed. Think of how pathetic it is that you're contemplating suicide. Make sure all those revealing poems and diary entries you've written are burnt, and write a few more, as eloquently as you can, so you know that when you die, people will have something to remember you by- otherwise, how do you know they'll remember you? Next, think about the time when you'll throw yourself in front of a train. But of course, it's never worth getting up at midnight, to walk all that way to the train line. So maybe you should go onto the internet, and ask people if you should commit suicide, because you're so empty, and lonely...
Alternatively, you could funnel all that emotion into something else... start a band, or write stories or film that people empathise with. Make some money that way. Become a FIGURE. Then commit suicide. Drugs overdose is always good. Or a gun. Or you could coat yourself in petrol, go into the middle of a cathedral, or church service, and start playing with matches. Swallow some petrol. Ram your head into the computer monitor you're using to read this- after all, all that electricity and glass? you're sure to die.. Or maybe you don't want to die- you just don't want that feeling of emptiness, and you just *know* that there's no-one else you can talk to. But there is. And this is where you are. Here. So TALK. (maybe it's a good plan not to ramble too much....)
|05 Jun 2004||billy the freak||if mouchette had a soundtrack it would be the album that played and played till it burned a tiny bit of information somewhere in the information soup that brews in my head. i would play it till the beat in my step, the pulse in my vains runs in syncronized waves to the bass line. it will be the music that gets me jiggly and wiggly till i want to dance. it would be what i pump through my head phones at night to put me to sleep...
i had a dream i was walking through a museum that had all the existing dali paintings on display. strangely i was the person in the hall enjoying these masterful works of surrealism.
the walls started to creak and bend, grone and twist till all the walls and all the paintings formed a huge sphere around me. the sphere started to spin so rapidly that the paintings no longer had any definition. they started to mix and churn. then the sphere slowed down to where i could see again. somehow all the paintings joined together to to create this vast concave world. i floated to the ground for what seamed an eternity. when i finally came close enough to define the landscapes, i saw lakes that seemed to float above the ground, mountains that took the form of human bodies, trees that if i looked at them right side up i would see a heard of stomping elephants. if i where to spin upside down (which i did many time as i fell) it looked as if it were a group of beautiful swans. if i looked directly in the middle all saw was trees. sudenlly i fell past an circus elephant, before i knew it i hit a huge pile of grasshoppers.
they all jumped away from me leaving me unhurt and standing on the ground. i looked all around. the first thing i noticed was the elephant i passed on the way down. it was at least one hundred feet in the air walking on what seemed to be stilts, on further inspection they where the beasts legs. i saw that the monster was walking my way and was bound to pass over me. remembering my days as billy the shit boy when i cleaned up after elephants in the circus, i decided move in case the the giant wanted to relieve itself. i looked at my watch and it started to get flacid the numbers melted into the face plate. the hands spinned so rapidly they spinned right off and in the air. eventually the watch just dripped of my wrist. i guess that is why they call dali's paintings timeless. well, since time was no object i decided to look around...
to be continued
|27 May 2004||AWAKE||Its so quiet here sometimes that i find myself ceaselessly arriving at that familiar feeling that i am one of the few that is awake .... and wandering around within a hologram managed by a main computer on board a massively large and complex ship drifting aimlessly in outer space .... its destination unknown to us, yet known to the architects of the hologram. And so we find ourselves navigating through the psychology of a greater machine, preparing us for something we have neither conception nor expression of.
We are ghosts within the machine .... believe it.
|25 May 2004||Morgen Todt||Metastasize at will ....
I think you are invoking the great deity when looking at the tsimtsum and wondering at the reflection you see there ....
When i was a kid i would wander far and wide. My family lived in the woods and when i would get home from school i would follow deer paths for miles. Other days i would wander along the coastline, and there was this summer home that i would pass by. It was in disrepair and near the shoreline there was a meditation pool that was surrounded by weeds and thornbushes.
i would go there and play with the gigantic carp that appeared to be so numerous at the surface that they were all cramed in there .... they looked to have been growing for a long time... and so i would reach in and try to grab one and no matter how full that pool looked to me, everytime i made the attempt they would disappear. i wonder now if there were really any fish in that water at all, and if what i saw then was just the projection of anothers meditation, finding me decades later.
In the winter i would go there, and even when the water was iced over i could see the fish underneath it, and they were always there, just hanging out being fish and waiting for the spring to come.
Maybe it was a magical pool of water....
|17 May 2004||elaine||Mouchette,
you know what i realised tonight? Nobody on this site of yours tells people about themselves, save that they want to die or that they want to help you with your sorrow. As if we're supposed to get an understanding of their character from that. Sometimes we hear stories, narratives and poems and reasons (all of which are valid) that a given person has for dying. Only, these are all indirect ways of introducing oneself.
And really, aren't we all here looking for understanding?
Thats a coarse way of putting it, but maybe you understand what i mean.
Today im sick to death of ambiguity, so im going to make this understanding thing a little easier.
Im a 17-year old kid, and my names not really elaine. I live in the bible-belt of the united states, only im atheist. I went to Prom last night. I play the bass clarinet in my high school band. I have blonde hair and blue eyes and my favorite authors are Tolstoy, Jane Austen, Salinger, and Kafka. My favorite band is Radiohead.
So thats what i am, and im telling you this not because i enjoy being made vulnerable (what else is telling to unkown people intimate details of my life) but because im sick of feeling like ive got something to hide from. More than that, sick of being afraid of sharing myself.
"At least you know there won't be any goddam ulterior motives in this madhouse. Whatever we are, we're not fishy, buddy."
|17 May 2004||Chris||Argh, I'm still here, and a bigger loser than ever. I've just lost two pounds and I'm devastated. Yes, I know that that statement makes me sound like the meanest person on earth, after all who could be so upset at losing a couple of pounds. But the fact is, that was two pounds too far when added to the probably hundreds I have lost over the years. I'm not describing the results of a gambling problem or even acute carelesness with money but a complete inability to successfully complete any transaction with a machine. This latest drain on my definitely finite resources came as result of simply wanting to buy an international phone card from an automated vending machine. It came as no surprise that this particular piece of technology ate my two pounds note. I have had a running battle with vending machines since I could reach a chocolate machine with a few quid. I have grown used, over the years, to coming away from these encounters poorer in cash and magnificently unencumbered by the goods or services I was hoping for.
When my mate gives me money to deal with the vending machine in a car park, car parks consistently refuse to let us in and if they do, then as sure as night follows day we will be begging someone to help raise the barrier to let us out. The government health authority could save themselves the trouble of trying to stop me smoking by the simple expediency of making cigarettes only available from machines, at a stroke I would then be totally unable to ever get hands on a packet.
I dare not even contemplate the world of ATM cash machines which everyone else finds so convenient, knowing as I do, that my card will only disappear but my pressing the wrong button I will instantly transfer my meagre savings to some fucking girl's account miraculously (which is just a staging post for it before it then finds itself in the account of a shoe shop)!
So here I am halfway through the first decade of the twenty first century completely in the thrall of inanimate vending machines which continue to cast their evil influence over me and my cash, and as each year passes it becomes increasingly worse... I admit it. The machines have me beaten.
See ya all in hell.
|14 May 2004||Snails survived slowly||After a pleasantly pointless day, I lay down and wandered. Far, far away.
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, white;
water, desert, translucent gel, glass at night.
Snails, feet, hide out from the ocean on crab street!
Out with the next two exhalations of air
went the excess of energy that caused thoughts to blaire.
Slowly now I crept round in my head,
slithering and squirming, staying still in my bed.
The imaginary creatures there
I could now see - and even hear what they said:
Dont step on the cracks when standing on breaking ice
a motherly pair of legs warned.
If you stand underwater, wear something nice
a fatherly wolf-like animal scorned.
An old man melted away and left a clock.
Pouting giants the color of the sky mock.
People line up and wait for wednesday.
In the group there is one whom I used to know.
Tambourine talk takes so much time.
How much smoother it slides to crush bugs
and have you interpret the patterns.
But soon I felt guilty for what I had said.
So guilty that my hand turned to glass
and I almost wanted to be away from here, back in bed.
I jumped underwater, hoping my life would pass.
But when my last seconds I was counting
My air fills with lungs, Im not drowning
Finally I awoke, a little more aware
things are real because they are believed to be
and this thought took away all reason to despair.
|07 May 2004||Morgan Todt||Lay with me and thrust into my flesh and feast upon me...
For you are my lover. You are my lover. And the only thing that makes me bleed is my own mutilation...
Can i understand empty hatred and what gives it birth? Understand frailty in another human being and seeing something in them that dims the very intensity of my own intellectuality?
Understand why a misconnection deepens or why it fades? Perhaps.
Eating of weeds. Drinking of rain. And an overdose of Introspection.
i've been reading an autobiography called Drinking The Rain (Alix Kates Shulman). The author startles family and friends by choosing a life of solitude on an island off the coast of Maine over her sociable and active life of many years in Manhattan. Her story is not only an acute observation and accounting of poignant aspects of New York City, but in her island isolation 'thinking long thoughts,' and the practice of things that take time: making bread, reading books by the light of the fireplace in her island cabin, carefully examining the body of a dead seal that has washed up on the beach, and reflecting on the process of going into herself after a lifetime of adapting to others. Amor fati....
Ms Shulman observes her former anxieties over 'the state of the world and the weight of years' as a burden lifted away. Her peace comes by the acceptance of what she finds and who she is in her aloneness. As a former networking activist in the Second Wave of the women's movement and now 'a quiet person,' she realizes that life can hold many seemingly conflictive selves and it is pointless to choose among what she calls the 'impulses' that live inside us. The shore's appearance is constantly changing, she notes. One's life has room for all that resides in it. She has embraced simplicity and is discovering how little she actually needs to have everything. She answers to no one, follows her interests deeply, and will change rules for herself when she wants.
Set free in her solitude.
No longer adjusting to the needs of anyone but herself. Eating weeds 'gifts of sustenance'. Drinking rain.
|06 May 2004||Some old Slapper who loves to hate Mouchette.... and Morgan Todt||For some reason I've made it my business to slam Morgan Todt. I don't like her. She tries to write gracefully but her messages suck.
First of all, we can see viruses.... with a microscope. Second, who in society is giving you the message, what you see is what you get? I don't remember hearing that anywhere. But anyway, I can't see you, why do I believe you exist? I can't see my brain, why do I believe it exists? Because I am conditioned to? I don't think so. There's good evidence for it.
No Morgan, it is not strange that people look up into the night sky and have a hard time believing in God. One good reason is because when people think of God, they think of that stupid ass mother fucker God that is presented in the bible. Surely the universe would be insane if that crazy son of a bitch actually existed. I would have to kill myself.... or kill him. Talk about cultural conditioning!!!! Hmmmm, you don't think people have been conditioned to believe in the Bible based on.... nothing convincing, in my opinion.... although in my own words I would say something like, "stupid ass old bull shit that doesn't even fuckin matter anymore". "This is it, what you see is what you get" sounds familiar. Sounds like the bible, sounds like religion.
But anyway, on a positive note, when people look up in the night sky, most DO NOT have trouble having a feeling of awe and wonder at the universe, and ponder questions of life. I don't know who you've been hanging around. However, people do, as they should, have a hard time comprehending how a fucked up psycho bastard like the Christian God could possibly exist. And that is a good thing because he does not exist.
In conclusion Morgan, only you are the one who thinks that people are too stupid to comprehend the greatness of the universe and only you assume what you see is what you get.
|03 May 2004||Morgen Todt|| How does it feel, being finally unlatched from pain? i am here to welcome you.
i've greeted many.
If you nursed one unacted wish before, if you loved someone who ignored you, here that yen has already been fulfilled to the point of sorest satiation. Find it well-stowed in the gelid honeyed aspic of collective memory. This is not the zone of Desires Transacted. Here lies the zone of Desires Recalled.
Maybe you wish you had once wisely broken a rule...
or brought an end to your own life. ~Done.
Everyone and you are interchangeable, best friends. You have entered a domain of ease and genius known as Play. Competition has become forever expunged.
Here, everyone's achievement becomes Everyone's, circular. The glad ironies pile up, and our useless bodies right along with them.
|29 Apr 2004||Morgen Todt||The more i investigate the non-realm that lies just beyond, beneath or throughout the non-realm i think we're in, the more i'm convinced that it will take the Heart of Antigone to continue. i suppose part of the reason for that is it requires courage to not be seduced by the comfort level generated by this particular illusion. Isn't it easier to just lay back and slap-slide into the daily grind of discorporation? And then there's the cultural conditioning which proclaims, "This is it! What you see is what you get." Now, let's think about that for a moment. What we see is what we get. Hmmm...
We can't see electrons. We can't see a virus. We can't see getting an honest profit participation in anything we write -- and yet we still believe these things exist.
Which brings me to God. Isn't it strange that we can look up at a night sky, at a majestic mountain, at the inane beauty of this very websight, and have trouble believing in God?
But i digress.