Being alive

What if being alive isn't all it's cracked up to be?

I picture all the things we so easily classify and most often look down upon as "nonliving". Next i wonder if being alive is really a higher form of existence than that of, say, a sedentary rock.

The rock is what it is. Wether it knows that it is or even just what it is unfathomable to us. It does not need any external or internal stimuli, reaction or anything whatsoever to be a rock. It just is. It has no needs, and does not destroy anything. It follows but its own consistent path, and it's "reaction" to anything applied to it will be nothing but a rock's reaction. In short, it is perfectly a rock.

We always say nobody is perfect. No human is. The rock is perfectly a rock. The sand is perfectly sand. The water is perfectly water. That is until man's tainted hands get a hold of them and disturb their perfection. How can it be perfect if it can be disturbed, you say? Because MAN is ANTI-PERFECT. any "living" being is anti perfect.

Any action by a "live" being (who else can do actions anyway?) disrupts everything around it. If some divine being created the universe as a perfect manifestation, then the creation of life is the start of the slow inevitable decay of perfection.

Maybe buddha really became a statue when he reached that utmost peak of existence. perfection. as gold(initially in a fat guy statue form, maybe). that someone probably melted and turned into something else. but still. gold, and forever will be gold. until some live thing discovers a way to ungold it.

do we attain perfection when we die? i'd like to believe so. that perfect peace. although how can an anti-perfect become perfect? maybe we don't maybe we just really disappear.

that sucks.

My Fable

The easiest way to narrate something you'd rather not but need to get out of your system is to explain the event/s or situation/s in such a way that you will understand them but anyone else who listens to it will probably not (but most definitely could).

So I Begin.

There was a brown wolf that wandered far from the forest into the great cities of white and black trees. After finding his place in the city, he was able to meet up with other animals who came from their own distinctive forests. Together they realized they can create great sounds by utilizing instruments they were skillful with. Like Machines they started to function like clockwork working together to orchestrate the majestic, utterly brilliant manifestation of beauty through sound. Heaven, Hell and Purgatory only knows what the future holds for these band of auditory savants.

Why do physical traits have to be in the way? A beautiful red apple opens up to a coreful of squirming worms. The funky odor and the numerous thorns of a durian mask the savory goodness of what's inside. If only trying again was as easy with people as it is with fruits.

I'll hold your hand behind the other's back. Keep me close that i can hide behind you or you behind me. I know the other will always be there, trapped by the eternal bond. But still our bond is stronger. For maybe in truth it is I who am the other. And in truth, that which seems eternal is but persistently fleeting.

Blazing Wings. spicy rubber on bones.

Is success only a tool to brainwash everyone into doing the same shit over and over again through the course of existence?

Why does religion have the need for praise? I see faith and obedience as good qualities. But praise only builds upon the concept of superiority and inferiority. I am willing to be "good" in whatever sense of the word. But if i am not willing to set myself under others, i am also not willing to raise anyone else above me.

Nobody cares what is right and wrong anymore. Everything is just "moving forward"

I hate math.

I guess i'm not speaking in fables anymore but what the hell.

im out.