I. AritHmomania & the Art of Placement
A good lesson in nonsense.
By design, under materialism.
To obtain an object at a moment’s notice as to not interrupt your current actions or activities. Even within a small space, it can be requisite knowing where something is at a moment’s notice. At a moment’s notice. As long as it appeals to others.
The room was perfect, if perfection only existed in this moment. Besides only one blemish.
Pictured in a small room, everything on the wall organized, showing duct tape covering the eyes of people. The eye is the leader of anxiety when you can’t handle being watched or looked at. I stayed up all night thinking the wall decorations were staring at me.
The greatest accessory for a room is a cat. Not to objectify something, but to obsess over something inanimate. What serves you more? Do you name the end table?
It’s who I talk to;
the furniture.
If you’re impatient and your mind has to be occupied,
maybe that’s why you have compulsive behaviors.
To claim that cleanliness clears the mind, only to continue to make questionable decisions. Things you do in confinement: specifics and how you can afford seclusion. The only thing I trust is myself in solace.
I distrust aesthetic furniture that isn’t used.
Or even the idea of it.
A furniture arrangement in vain is the ultimate tragedy. A poor decorist. The specifics of a piece of furniture will become alive. The amount of specific moves, changes, and pieces is unlimited. “O, did you arrange the furniture?”
Cramming a lot of things on the wall, as well as furniture into a small space may seem chaotic and unorganized to some. This can lead some to flourish mentally. The cleanliness and organization of the space feeds into a mood.
You know how many people have died over cum?
All the people you met in a carshare, and never saw again. What’s the first thing you start thinking about,
when you’re by yourself and can’t sleep? In your perfectly orchestrated room. Did they take the photo of me tonight that will be used at my memorial?
Organization, as a concept;
When was this developed?
Why do you need to talk within the space?
Who decided meaning meant anything,
Who decided language meant anything,
Who decided language was human?
Who invented the word,
Who attributed meaning to the word?
Language occupies a space.
Within language, I couldn’t actually hear what they were saying because I was too busy counting the syllables of their words and tapping the right side of the pew an even number of times so I ended up retaining zero information.
With humans, no one is ugly by appearance alone. Only personalities can be ugly. The perfection seen with arithmetic can also follow into placement. Furniture holds a higher standard than that of humans.
That end table looked gross,
As gross as an octopus for a portrait.
If the octopus could stand straight,
It would still be nicer than you.
O, pathetic fallacy, why do you compile these inanimate objects? I would prefer to drift as a vagrant, rather than be held down by such an area of effects and inheritance. Is it of my mind to rid these ideas of sentiment?
To know that, by design,
Light will be the last thing that you will ever see.
A story that only lasts ten seconds because it is a long winded thought. The reading takes longer than that but the actual moment is an even shorter period.
I sat down once again, in a perfectly orchestrated room,
to have nothing to do, but admire myself.
II. Animism: To Love the Inanimate
Just consider, if only for a moment, someone else dealt with an issue you didn’t want to understand. They try to sell a very hard point and their discussion is dismissed. It doesn’t even have to be very remote of a concept. Being human, we try to validate people with weird problems. This isn’t about physical attraction, but the attribution of worth, obsession, and extreme platonic care towards inanimate objects.
This isn’t a material love you ascribe to something through material worth. This is a love that reaches the soul and can only be given to one. We attribute less meaning to things and beings we can’t properly communicate with. The death of animals is far less traumatic than that of a human. If we could actually communicate with animals, would we have more empathy? Or even lesser, an inanimate object? If we can’t communicate with something, we cannot take it serious. At the risk of accepting everything coming in, there is some truth to this.
Can something inanimate love back? As agnostic as it is to believe anything is possible, is this possible? There are far more misguided beliefs. God had a book called truth. In this truth, Conservatives will jack off without finishing. There’s no way they could waste the seed of their perfect children. You can’t engage physically with an animal, and you can’t commit adultery on your significant other. You can’t have any sexual desires that are not primitive. These are all within the same paragraphs. It’s easy to dismiss this.
After being rejected by anything human, extended isolation turned into animism. There becomes no distinction between human and object, both becoming inanimate. Inanimate and lifeless; without the ability to love, criticize, or form opinion.
I isolated myself because I began to only feel comfort in the inanimate. I became so detached from the “living”, I placed duct tape over the eyes of any photo or decoration in the house. I could feel them looking at me. I didn’t want anything or anyone looking at me. The isolation grew worse, as the automatic payments still poured out, I had no reason to go outside.
In this situation, I’ve asked myself the same questions every time. Am I trying too hard to be poetic? The extreme appreciation of an object seems like unnecessary apocalyptic drama. With my soul being in the condition that it’s in, I can accept this.
There’s probably a verse in the Bible that you read, dismissing something you engage in or believe in. Don’t demonize people you don’t understand. Have empathy towards everything human. AND inanimate.
Have coffee with an inanimate object. You could go to Joe’s coffee in East Atlanta with it. After you enjoy your coffee together, you can piss inside the luxury condos forcing their way into the village. Think about it. That piss will stay there forever and they won’t know.
III. The Truth About the Equator
I’m going to name my kid after a word I can’t use in Scrabble. This was my first thought today. That and the word “Octomonth.” A thought or dream never shared goes away, and no matter the reach, is probably useless. Who wants to sit on FaceTime for thirty minutes hearing the details of someone’s dream? I would love to but feel everyone else would be annoyed.
The only people I want in my house are the subjects and concepts of my frequent nightmares. One of my most memorable nightmares was being stuck into what I thought was the equator. I woke up in a panic, scrambling to put together thoughts, leaving me to believe the equator didn’t exist. Note: I am more focused on the equator, rather than the prime meridian (or both) in this theory. I was initially skeptical. You would think, since arithmetic is the only thing you can prove, the equator would exist, since it’s the just the name of a location, technically. The placement can be easily proven. There has to be a center of anything that exists, even without symmetry, and even if you don’t call it anything. Language is subjective, meaning the proof lies in the coordinates. The equator can’t exist because you can’t prove it has a single coordinate. Where the prime meridian and equator meet is what I call the absolute center (0°N 0°E) This can be seen on any flat map. A flat map has a center based on simple math and a sphere doesn’t have this luxury. The center of earth can’t be determined in a sphere, therefore proving the earth is flat. This also proves the equator and the prime meridian are just words, not factual or animate things. These concepts are completely made up by humans.
I don’t force my views, even when I’m correct. I would never put someone on the spot in a room full of my followers. I would never propose the same tactics as a struggling and self-conscious priest(ess).
