High Ramblings about Religion

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Okay, so I am an atheist. Let’s just get that out there now.
But I see the appeal to religion.
I think religion, or should I say more specifically, spirituality is a wonderful thing.
It is beautiful.
It is a gorgeous, and I believe, one of the most fulfilled lives to lead.
Spirituality offers something to the human psyche that is primordial and very primitive. I don’t mean that in a bad way. What I mean is that it is pure and basic. It seems to be basic, formulaic, to the average and happy human life.
I just don’t buy it.
I don’t buy the existence of a higher intelligence that in any way shape or form mirrors humanity in any way.
Out of all creatures, we are the least perfect.
We are the cruelest.
The evilest.
The most pompous.
The most sinful.
And only because we recognize that in ourselves.
We give our most basic, negative characteristics, horrible connotations. And then we project that on our idols, our models, who are once again figments of our imagination.
Cause if u think about it, everything is. The human mind is a powerful thing. And we create our plane of existence, through the various and diverse humanistic perspectives we have.
Of course, the world revolves around each and every one of us, because that is what we see.
So why is it that selflessness, something completely and utterly inhuman and human at the same time, is one of our most highly esteemed traits, universally? Riddle me this.

-high ramblings of a stoner

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Death’s Coercion

You don’t belong here,

He says,

You don’t fit in,

He claims,

You will never be happy,

He promises.

But is that true?

Is everything that happens, a pointless endeavor,

Is everything in our plane of existence a temporary scourge,

Is happiness truly fleeting, or is there a way to capture it.

To hold it hostage.

To claim it as your own, to make it a basic building block of your life.

Yet he says,

Life is only pain,

Yet he promises,

I will take the pain away.

But I won’t give in.

With fire in my belly and steel on my tongue,

I will not give in.

I will fight, fight against the “dying of the light”.

The dying of my perfect world.

The dying of the illusions of my childhood.

The dying of the world that surrounds me.

I will fight.

Fight forever, against the melancholy of sentient life.

And that is truly aesthetic.

The Melancholy

When the melancholy returns,
Like a sick, sad old man,
Don’t be gentle.

Berate the old man.
Tell the pathetic piece of shit he is not long for this world.
As he dies, the Earth breathes.

When the melancholy returns,
Like a beaten, dying dog,
Kick it.
Don’t let it convince u it’s pain is worth it,
Euthanize the poor beast.

When the melancholy returns,
Like the black plague,
Don’t explain it.
Let it be the sacred curse upon humanity that mystifies and condemns.

When the melancholy returns,
Like a shadow cast in the rain,
Don’t admire it.
Let it be ugly, incurable, let it be a lepper.

When the melancholy returns,
Like the shingles,
Of old age,
Let it be disfiguring,
Don’t look at the beauty.
It is not aesthetic.

High Ramblings about Sadness

“Since our childhood, we have carried fatal wounds disguised as fatal flaws.”

-unknown

It’s funny, I read somewhere that you should never let someone make you feel like you’re hard to love.

But that’s how almost everyone who I give a shit about in my life, make it out to seem. In their eyes, I am a piece of shit. They have told me this cleverly disguised as advice, or caring concern. When honestly, if they could pick the easy way out, they would choose not to love me, but everyone is under the illusion that they have obligations to each other, when honestly, we rarely if ever owe anyone shit. And even if we do owe someone something, the only force behind that obligation is our own moral standards.

Nothing in life is obligatory, not even love.

So is that even real love? Love only felt because of obligation? Love only felt because we have the most basic of human connections. Love only felt because of duty?

I don’t want it.

If you feel as if you’re under obligation to love me, then just don’t. I will gladly remove myself from your life, and honestly, I will barely feel a shred of loss.

Cause I am a piece of shit.

And unlike everyone else in my life, I at least admit to it.

As a matter of fact, there are parts of me that are messy, sloppy, unhinged, eccentric, and bratty. But I love that part of me as much as any other part. I know without it, my character would be devoid of the shading that brings a picture to life.

And now I am going to apologize for my ring of recent blogs, I feel as if they have been kind of dark. I haven’t read through them yet, but I’ve just been in a melancholy mood so I feel as if my writing reflected it. Or maybe not. If so don’t pay attention to this last paragraph.

-high ramblings of a stoner

A Poem about Moths

And I can’t help but wonder,
How the moth flies so close to the sun,
Then I remember that it’s not the sun the moth sees
It’s the illusion of the sun.
And I can’t help but wonder.
Am I the disillusioned moth, and is he my sun?
If so then am I Icarus?
Destined to kiss the sun, only to have him melt my wings.
And I can’t help but wonder,
How far will I fall, and still be able to get back up.
And I can’t help but wonder
How
The moth sees the sun, where most only see a porch light.

High Ramblings about Chili

I fucking love chili.
But like, chili isn’t something you can get store bought or from a restaurant because it would suck major ass. Unless of course, you went somewhere renowned for its chili.
You know, I  actually can’t think of a place like that.
Holy fuck.
I want to start a chili restaurant. I want all types of chili, from all over the US. Hell, I even want to create designer chili, chili that’s so goddamn different yet tastes so goddamn good. Like maybe, jerk chili, or perhaps chili adobo. Ooh, how about chili curry?
Duuuudes, the possibilities are endless.
You could make chili desserts; like chocolate chili served over like pretzels or some shit.
And what if, bear with me here, it was a smoker friendly place? By that I mean weed, of course, look at the title of the blog lol.
Like what if we had stocks of cannabutter, different strains of weed and what not. And when people ordered their chili, they had the choice to pick a weed in it, similar to picking the wine you want with your food?
Boom.
Mind blown as fuck.

-high ramblings of a stoner

High Ramblings about Books

I promise this will be a short one.
I love books. I love them so much it hurts sometimes. I love stories and the wild worlds people create. I love the meaning entrenched in so many works.
It’s funny, I normally can’t tell you what my favorite book is. But at the moment, I think I’ve figured it out. Don’t judge me for this, but my all time favorite books would have to be Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre. For some reason I am in love with the Bronte sisters’ stories.
These books, have had the biggest impact on me, and I dont even know why.
Its just kind of funny, cause I write fantasy/fiction, yet I dont draw my favorite books from that genre. I mean literary fiction, yes. But that other kind of fiction? Not so much. Or maybe its the other way around. Well anyways, I’m going to go read Jane Eyre cause I couldn’t find Wuthering Heights.

-high ramblings of a stoner