I have countless opinions, but no preconceptions. Generalisation becomes a biased imitation. I wish for peace and freedom, and since I am made by making choices, I see no reason to completely negate such values. Yet I do not wholly trust or distrust anything. In short, I am an idealist who doesn't want to idealise, a dreamer who is conscious of harsh reality, a poet with the hope of moderation, an activist with a sense of the absurd, an artist with the distraction of the mundane and cruel. I am everything and nothing and know that I do not know. I embrace my contradictions as I strive to focus my aims. What an insignificant ball of narcissistic flesh I must be, trapped in the matrix of fascist democracy, mediocrity, meritocracy, corporeality, corporatocracy, and all that postmodern nonsense that stares at you subtly behind the curtains of the everyday. WHO ARE YOU? WHO AM I? WHO IS ANYONE?
I'm too intense, too dense, too confused and incensed, with a wrench of egotistical rapture condensed in despair, and unceasingly question affairs of the cycle, a spiral in which I am trapped; where from and where going will never be mapped...?
Observation, contemplation, travelling on continual change, challenging mechanical time with the surge of NOW-infinity, never being but forever BECOMING, wondering, listening, preaching the babble of unconscious unknowingness, unsatisfied desiring, and the outpouring of relative insanity. I am nothingness and thus, purposeless, aimless, searching for meaning with a feeling of the meaningless - interests are futile as they waver with the mass on the breeze of natural rhythm - name me but do not despise me, i claim no enemies though fear even myself, good and bad are illusions of oneness that can never be completd apart from in an enclosed universe of my own making. I imagine...what is faith but imagination...what is human existence but a confused dream...these are the interests that I currently conceive...an interest that I call the Life-Death...
