The Many Faces Behind a Single Mask
i am a souless ginger
released February 14, 2016
- Track Name: Empty Stomach
Early this morning I awoke to find an ache in my stomach. I could tell immediately, without any conscious effort at all, that this ache was the ache of hunger. My body, being so reliant on food for energy, has coerced my mental faculties into understanding the ache in my stomach as hunger. However, as it is the way with words, upon thinking of hunger my brain must, in the very moment of thought, understand and explain hunger to myself, thusly hunger becomes a fully realized desire within the realms of my ego. The urge, once brought about by my physical being independent of my soul, has been, in the very instant of the urge itself, ferociously reinforced by my conscious and deliberate being, rationalizing the desperate longing as purposeful reality, creating the illusion of self-directedness and power over myself. Now when I go to get food, it is not seen by myself as a force alienated and controlling of myself mediated by my environment without my consent, as it really is, but instead the real intelligent desires and needs of an intelligent observer mediating and controlling its body. Thusly my innate slavery is seen as free will, but let us observe what were happen if it were indeed freewill guiding myself, and not a determined reality.
Once in kitchen I observe the various options of food to eat. The hunger is an immediate feeling and while browsing through the various substances presented to me to negate this hunger, my brain is presently overwhelmed with an intense flurry of emotions and conflicting thought patterns, different subjective forces acting simultaneously and independent of eachother, always lobbying for it’s own end to be the true real march of history. Looking at the bread floods me with feelings of nostalgia for peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches, a treat that has been engraved into my psyche as permanent trope of my childhood, while staring at the various cereals inspires me with the sense of motivation and timelessness produced by breakfest. The various meat substances in my freezer tempt me with the seducing effect of quick and easy microwaving followed by instant satisfaction. Endless box’s of corndogs, hot pockets, bacon, and various other meats line the insides of my freezer. I look deeply into the abyss that is my meat storage and fawn over the infinite consumptive possibilities.
I take a several deep breaths and reorient my standings as not to lose balance in this mental hurricane. I feel the urge deep in my bones, my brain takes these signals and further misrepresents them as my wants, even if the truth was revealed to me by a divine being appearing before my eyes, I would not accept it for the urge has become too great and far too tempting to resist. I fill a paper plate full of tater tots and corndogs and heat them in the microwave. I remove the plate and gorge upon my beauties. Physically my body receives the energy and necessary nutrition to maintain homeostasis and begins to send signals to my brain to let me know that I am full, that more food is not needed in the moment for the body to continue to reproduce it’s existence. In a normal understanding of myself, I would begin to not want to eat the food, and rationalize said want through a distinct change in the very flavor of food and my urge to eat, allowing myself stop eating. However, the reason I ate in the first place was because of the thought that my hunger was an intentional and deliberate force acted out by myself, an expression of free-will, and not an alien and fearful force controlling me, so when my body sends signals from my stomach to brain to tell me to stop eating, a very real and immediate confusion is had. The brain, continually receiving chemical satisfaction from the food, acting on the axiom that it is in charge, represses the signals of the stomach, the very signals that made it eat in the first place, and acts purely out of hedonistic, existential, abstraction. I continue my feast, making more and more plates. Gradually my stomach becomes filled with cancerous meats and processed corn until the empty space is gone. The stomach begins to violently send signals to the brain to stop, attempting to interfere with the chemical responses received from eating. However, in all my delusions and misunderstandings, I reject these signals outright, confident that my mental duty to eat this food is real and existent beyond my physical being.
I continue to eat and my stomach can no longer carry the weight of my sins. Battle-scarred and beaten the stomach realizes it’s immediate end and begins to tear, bloody holes in the organ tissue form and the food leaks into the rest of my insides. The pain is immense and powerful, however I am too far deep now, I tell myself the pain is not real for the only thing that is real is my purposeful action and conscious decision, and in the moment I am fully motivated by my earlier decision to eat, so I will continue to eat. My insides fill with blood and chewed food, the ramifications of this on my health are immediate, internal bleeding is lethal. Gradually my insides deteriorate and my physical being withers into a frail and distraught abomination of god. In my last moments I consume an entire german sausage, this german sausage will be the last thing I know, it is quite satisfying and I am very pleased with my choice in sausage. “Thank god I worked so hard to make all that money to buy this food! I would never of imagined having a feast like this!”. These are my last words as my existence slowly disintegrates completely.
- Track Name: Every Thought Derives From a Thwarted Sensation
A dead bird lies solitary in the gutter of a crowded urban centre. Insides entangled in an ecosystem of insects, the bird is reduced to fuel for a microcosmic underworld. The dead bird is the view of a small child with his mother. The child disconnects his hand from his mothers and grasps the bird, he loudly rejoices over his discovered pet. Fully laced in the sweaty fingers of the boy, he squeezes tight and the birds eyes bulge and sag from the sockets, bones crunch, blood flows, and millions of merciless maggots erupt from the mouth of the bird.
The boy becomes lost in a swarm of decomposers, his skin shredded and savaged, his bodily form is sacrificed to the hivemind. He wonders if he should not have picked up the bird. He wonders if he should have left the bird in the gutter, “Have I done wrong?” the boy asks, but the bird bears no response and the boy loses himself.
Dared to disconnect for the purpose of gripping death, giddy then galvanized, the naive child resides to a tortured existence. Walking corpses contemplate meaning, mentally managing imaginary existences, society has no space for silly skeletons carrying imperial infestations blanketing the nation with somber reality and plagued purposes. The dead are merely moving, victims of a perpetual consuming, parasites power losing, what are you really pursuing?
- Track Name: Hedonistc Hellfire of a Selfless kind
On the outskirts of reality knowledge and reason bend inwardly on themselves. Looped into a linear expression of repetition, meaning and matter subject themselves to the subtle and explosive nature of fiction. Triangulations of trust trespass emotional immanence and intimate encounters of intertwined individuals predicate presupposed yet impractical permutations of palpable persons. Hedonism made for the heart makes for a heart that only hurts. Jouissance jails the spirit in the junction of desire, with a jury that neither sees nor cares, in a kangaroo court of callous conditioning, the self is subject to the entropy of attachment. Repression represents the real and recurring rewriting of unrealized desires and the instantaneous engineering of endless rationalizations to ascend an alien authority of auspicious actualities. People play for power and power picks the fortunate, ornate orgasms of an unknown origin lead you to question who you hold the torch for. stripping the sanctity of a surface appearance, solidarity seems to suppose the only security, however a hellish haunting of hurting bodies eviscerates the possibilities of quantifying the quiet gravity of emotional attachment. We are led nowhere all at once for the sole purpose to look at each other and discover our emptiness. Together we are alone but separated we do not exist.
- Track Name: Jack Kevorkian
Cut by the knife of pure endorphins
Barely hanging on like a loose doorhinge
Assisting the suicide; Jack Kevorkian
There my mind goes back and forth again.
Counting the sheep as they're sent to the slaughter,
praying for the rain in days with no water,
A slave to the pain in a state of pure saunder,
Unable to relate so his thoughts they go wander
And half of the time his thoughts are under water,
half of his mind long gone, cannon fodder,
back of the line he was sent, never bothered anybody until the day he couldn't take it any longer.
An assortment of razors machetes and boxcutters,
Post partum abortions, the way that I caught mothers,
a wave of these cops couldn't stop the genocide
they’ll die along anyone invading my thought bubble,
and I wouldn't call it tripping I'm collecting these victims
Place them in submission with assistive restrictions,
the seconds are ticking to hours or minutes, nobody ever knows in the conditions they live in,
Creator of a world manifesting in death
entrails decorate the walls caked in flesh,
in a pitch black room of disease ridden screams,
or is this just another one of his dreams?
- Track Name: Memory.
An Inscription, the very substance of memory is but an inscription, a phenomenological carving into the substrate of history. Memory exists inside of all things, every object implicit in it’s present material existence is the infernal mechanism of memory eternally grinding away. A machine that shapes and bends every individual fragmentation of reality into an image created by itself through itself. The rings of an exposed stump expose the memories latent in a tree. Through a wrinkled and sagged smile one can perceive the imprint of stress where the little machine elfs of memory have mercilessly worn the face to a brittle husk. The DNA of any creature is nothing but a long strand of memories endlessly replicating and adapting itself the various memories it is subsumed in.
If memory is a machine, it has no clear schema, no instructions, it is a mass collection of incalculable randomness cleverly and neatly organized so as to deceive the subject of its innate anti-knowledge. Thusly memory’s only jumping off point is itself and the memory to come before it. It presupposes and re-appropriates the future in it’s own self-revolving reality. This machine is responsible for existence entirely, it is the very foundation upon which it exists. However, memory is a deception. For where there is one memory machine, there is another, and while these machines may be connected, they each fall infinitely into themselves. Every memory is in some incommunicable to another memory, for each strand of memory is entirely unique to itself, only that strand has lived that particular existence. Loneliness is not a feeling or state of mind, but a metaphysical property of the universe arising from an infinitude of memories each with a lineage so specific it is impossible for another memory to ever understand.
Blades, this is the machinery of memory. Blades which cut and pierce the flesh of reality, grinding and reshaping it to conform to an abstracted axiomatic volume of experiences. Nothing can escape the infernal machine, everything is torn to pieces. All that is solid melts into air. All which is existent is reknown and recreated in the machine of your memory through an eternal process of destruction. Memory holds only bias to itself and will relentlessly annihilate what it can not know. Everything is justified through memory, everything is rationalized and de-rationalized. You are nothing but a strand of memory pulling itself apart in every direction, desperately seeking freedom or comfort from its isolation only to fall back onto itself. Everyday of your life you are alone, and one day even your own strand of memory will forget you, and you dissolve into a pointless inscription on the eternal surface of the universe. Assimilate or die, this is the law of memory.
- Track Name: Imploding Children
Ignorance is bliss. This is not so much a slogan, but instead a command, a command delivered from the highest of powers, from power itself. Ignorance is bliss does not denote any sort of truth or reveal any hidden functionings of life, it is a deceitful metanarrative not forced onto the population, but handed to them with a smile. Time and time again we are reminded to remain ignorant, we are kept distracted, products keep piling up, penetrating our souls with soulless consumption. To remain ignorant is to relinquish power, to remain ignorant is to cut yourself off from reality, to recede into an imaginary world of your own creation. Ignorance is bliss, but only for the colonizer. Those who must suffer under a tyrannical reign of systemic oppression should fear ignorance not embrace it. They are told to remain ignorant, to remain blissful and innocent, do not concern yourself with the petty affairs of politics, they tell us, concern yourself with only laboring and the good gracious of god. Be thankful you were gifted this rarity of human life, the most extraordinarily beautiful existence one could ask for. This is the metanarrative we are fed. Remain ignorant, remain stupid, let others think for you.
The “intelligent” and the “idiotic” are separated through an arbitrary division of labor whereby one must choose physical manual labor or intellectual labor, this division purely exists for economic efficiency and has no basis in our true humanity. Intelligence is not a quality of the human mind, instead it is the forced socialization of one person into their respective social class. To be intelligent is the worst ignorance of all, sacrificing their bodily functionings for security and comfort. To remain intelligent, speaking only through words and not actions, is to remain ignorant. To be stupid, allowing your actions to be caught up in a machine of artificial-intelligence, is also to remain ignorant. Do not let the ruling caste deceive you, you are much more than a neurochemical communication, and likewise you are also constituted by something greater than a mere physical body. To pigeonhole yourself to a particular mind-body duality, to sacrifice your true complete autonomy for the good gracious of a supposedly benevolent dictator, this is what it means to be ignorant.