save me from myself

i fear nothing living – neither man nor beast. that is, i fear not that such a fear will immote to the point of inner turmoil. it is that which is dead – the lust of the eyes, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life – which i fear. these three are indefatigable in their pursuit. they are wind attempting to inhabit my very being and to feed my soul. they are empty – and yet i still endeavor to subsist. i despise all that i desire for myself. i abhor my most inner thoughts. ah! wretched man that i am, who shall save me from myself?

the aoristic or the linear?

i have somewhat considered my dislike of pictures. while a photograph (and even a painting) may convey both physical and emotional aspects of a person, it does not carry the soul. this may be attached by the viewer within a certain context connected to the representation but it is not contained within the representation itself. yet further, i dislike photographs for the fact that the aoristic is perceived as the linear. do not let a moment usurp the authority that the continuum of events rightfully holds.

english disavowed

english – a fact of life to be endured, much like technology. both have come and both will pass away; it is in this fact that i remain secure.

technology disavowed

my dislike of technology – more of a subliminal psychological mantra playing in the background of my mind. but as such, it affects most of my ideological processes.