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Abril 22, 2003


For the longest time I've been trying to look inside myself. To see what's there. But most of the time I don't even have the slightest clue what I'm doing. What does it mean to look inside yourself? What do you do? A lot of times I'll sit on the floor of my room and just say to myself: " I'm looking inside now". But I'm not aware of any real looking inside. I even picture some mysterious content inside my body that I'm trying to see with some figurative mental x-ray. So far, no results. What is inside that you are supposed to see? Is it your thoughts? Not according to this anyway. I'd love to understand Zen, but I don't. And you know what? You may as well not even read the fucking shit. I mean all these Zen masters talk about is how words and concepts lead you astray, so instead of reading about whatever vibe they were plugged into, you end up reading some third-hand account of some teacher-student interaction that only would have made sense in the exact context of that moment which was probably 1500 years ago. On the other hand, I can't deny that there are a lot of interesting zen stories too.

Sometimes I don't think I have any real point of view on anything.

I've also noticed that my thought patterns are a result of the context I expose them to most. Not so weird. But when I am aware of it, it seems crazy. For example, at one point, when I was thinking about this blog all the time, every interaction with everything had to go through the filter: Could This Conversation/Thought/Experience Work As A Blog Entry? I didn't like that.
And now, at work. All I watch are celebrities being interviewed. The result is that my entire thought process has evolved into a kind of superficial and egoistic question and answer session with myself.

I can see thoughts I have manifesting in reality. But nothing that provides me with any meaning I can understand. Repeating numbers. Very small synchronous interactions between my thoughts and the world at large. I can't tell you how many times the numbers 1 and 4 appear. And as a result, I've become hyper aware of these numbers, so that part of me is seeing them, but part of me is madly searching for them too, trying to make a connection. Is it a date? We just had a weekend where 4/11 was the Friday and 4/14 was the Monday. I thought some crazy-ass shit was gonna go down, but it didn't. I'm at a point where I know that these numerical experiences go beyond coincidence, but I'm starting to believe that there may be no meaning in them whatsoever. Am I missing something? I got really into Sankey's entry about flow. He talks about recognizing patterns in order to stay with the flow rather than against it. But what does it mean to recognize patterns? For example, 1 and 4. That's a pattern. There, I recognized it. Now what? Am I supposed to follow these numbers in whatever manifestation they appear? (Should I have got on streetcar 4144 the other day?) Or am I supposed to ignore them because they are patterns of mind, and mind cannot be truth.

I just found something about mind vs. no-mind. I wonder if it will help. I can't understand how keeping a koan in your mind for 24 hours at a time could produce any result save insanity. But I guess it's worth a try.

It's hard when the line between thought and the material world breaks down. I feel adrift, with no meaning to anchor me, and yet my thoughts thunder along inside my head. "What the fuck is going on?!!"

Will anything ever make sense again?

Posted by King at 06:18 PM | Comments (7)

Abril 02, 2003


This blog is terrible king. It reminds me of a dog choking to death on my gloved fist. I am so bored down here in my bunker. It is my wish to have something good to read, but instead I come here. I have found something written about war right here in this page. It really made me think....that it was the most foolish thing I have yet heard! This man knows nothing of war. It is not, as you say in the West, "party time". I mean to say, I like it....but it gets me down too. I am not against war, I understand why war exists, but it is not peaceful for me. I am so stressed out king. Honestly, Tariq will tell you. And I cannot stop smoking these damned cigars! Anyway, I did not write to you to complain about my life, but to complain about the poor quality of this damned reading material. The writings here are not fit for a blind Shia cleric, and that I can assure you, is saying something.

Posted by Saddam Hussein at 02:08 AM | Comments (3)