-Watched Gandhi yesterday. The biggest mistake my fam ever made (theyve made millions) was converting to christianity way in the foggy past of the 1st century, supposedly -- this hindu stuff is way in my bones -- the love of self-mortification. There was a time when I loved to walk around with my jacket open to the freezing cold and other such adventures, before...what -- my first love, booze i suppose. and loud music, and other readily accessible forms of self-stupification.
-It's a ridiculous thing to waste time but I do it constantly --it's been years since i've sat in one place doing something for any length of time. fucking computers. i could have been president by now. there's going to be a new consciousness - childrens are going to be able to deal with all these distraction in an hyper-effective manner -- gotta crack a few eggs to make an omelet -- we're a bunch of cracked eggs. all that potential like some disgusting goo on the floor. though i supposed there are some productive people out there..

So on the way up to hanover last winter, up to some race to the bottom experience-mongering mischief, chewing my own sensual cud -- on ye ol Dartmouth Coach they showed a documentary on the Mars Rover and I sat in the back with my head against the frosty window and bawled my eyes out (on the inside). It's clean and right to be an agent of evolution, and yet all my gravity pulls towards something else--to be a COMMENTATOR, ugh. The source of much of my self-loathing, which I now discard wholesale, for the sake of streamlining..
The kind of X that I want to be needs a full gaze, an aquaintance with both the low and base and the good and righteous (and I do believe in such distinctions). A long term, ongoing project -- not about to cop out now.
New hobbies include starving myself until my eyes are wild and then looking through them. I want to discover an entirely new sensuality. It's been ages since Ive had a legitimate interest in flesh. It's the beginning of something new (finally).

a linguistic, epistemological
mini-theory:

Lose sight of the shore
Lose sight of the sure

Shore
Sure

Shore- God, Om, Round open
Possibilities
Sure –
a tunnel,
Masturbatory self-satisfaction, a closing

I run to the shore
To lose sight of the sure