"Ignorance is bliss".
Ignorance is relative.
Ignorance of trivial, irrelevant things is justified.
Ignorance of distant, unknowable things is justified.
Ignorance of matters concerning one, especially if said matter is another, is unjustified.
Ignorance of matters of the heart, emotions, feelings, urges, is unforgivable.
What has one gained from morals and guilt,
besides 'self-fulfillment'?
'self-contentment'?
And what more can one gain from impulse and action,
other than 'self-discovery'?
'self-exposure'?
'Amor fati';
The love of fate and its consequence; the self.
Let one's desires fly;
Only then can we fly with them.
Truth; what for?
Once had, what else is there but to accept?
Truth is found, never given.
Truth is self-discovered, never imposed.
Truth is constantly redefined, never a definition.
We find, we discover, we define Truth
by interpretation of what we see, touch, sense and feel,
and since everyone sees, touches, senses and feels differently,
How can there be One Truth?
The days when the purpose of my words were tears; they are not today.
For today my words are to inspire doubt, thought; everything undesirable in civilised man.
Ignorance is bliss,
Sobriety a curse.
When making important decisions,
One must never be allowed to know exactly what one is doing.
.."murdered her as surely as if I had cut her little throat with a knife. Yet the roses are not less lovely for all that. The birds sing just as happily in my garden. And to-night I am to dine with you, and then go on to the opera, and sup somewhere, I suppose, afterwards."
"How extraordinarily dramatic life is! If I had read all this in a book, Harry, I think I would have wept over it. Somehow, now that it has happened actually, and to me, it seems far too wonderful for tears."
"Here is the first passionate love-letter I have ever written in my life. Strange, that my first passionate love-letter should have been addressed to a dead girl. Can they feel, I wonder, those white silent people we call the dead? Sibyl! Can she feel, or know, or listen? Oh, Harry, how I loved her once! It seems years ago to me now. She was everything to me."
[..]
"but I am glad you don't think I am heartless. I am nothing of the kind. I know I am not. And yet I must admit that this thing that has happened does not affect me as it should. It seems to me to be simply like a wonderful ending to a wonderful play. It has all the terrible beauty of a Greek tragedy, a tragedy in which I took a great part, but by which I have not been wounded."
[..]
I fancy that the true explanation is this: It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their absolute incoherence, their absurd want of meaning, their entire lack of style."
"They affect us just as vulgarity affects us. They give us an impression of sheer brute force, and we revolt against that. Sometimes, however, a tragedy that possesses artistic elements of beauty crosses our lives. If these elements of beauty are real, the whole thing simply appeals to our sense of dramatic effect."
"Suddenly we find that we are no longer the actors, but the spectators of the play. Or rather we are both. We watch ourselves, and the mere wonder of the spectacle enthralls us. In the present case, what is it that has really happened?"
...
Wilde and Nietzsche, I thank thee.
You have taught me to take life by the hand.
Taught me to be a spectator of my own life,
And if I am scarred,
How to appreciate tragedy.
'The whole is greater than the sum of its parts'. -Aristotle.
For my life, and my Life, I owe thee everything.
For the Sun rises tomorrow regardless,
And time passes and my face grows a moment older;
Tragedy does not stop time.
"Yet the roses are not less lovely for all that.
The birds sing just as happily in my garden." -DG, Ch 8.
And the next page is yet to be writ.
Mush: What do you call a person who fasts ah?
Greg: Uh, Moslem?
Mush: No, I think they're called fasters.
(cue awkward silence)
(the rest of us burst out laughing)
Me: Now you know what they were shouting during your 2.4!
Mush: No what! Its true! You know, its like how a pastor pasts-
(cue awkward silence)
Realize, oh realize!
We never say Goodbye, for we believe in a tomorrow.
We never say Good Luck, for success is not always great, neither is always succeeding great.
We never say Take Care, for what joy can be had if care is taken?
We never say Farewell, for we bid you fall, awaken, and crawl up, again and again.
We say to thee: Have fun.
For it constitutes the joy in life.
For Id is the only guiding force we have.
For mistakes are the only things we regret not.
For this life is too short to be misused,
Yet long enough for misuse.
As a distant dream,
One that cannot be relived.
One that cannot be revived.
One that cannot be recollected.
And as memories slip away detail by detail, we see no purpose in remembering.
Hence to my past I say: so long.
Goodbye, for that day was the last day I smiled for real.
Farewell, for we walk through time, regardless of our attachments.
Godspeed, lest the same damage is met.
And look forth, for with our past, we create new memories. We carve new symbols, we walk new paths, we face new regrets. Every step we take; we change things forever. There's no turning back.
Hence to tomorrow I say: welcome.
For I can never live this life again.
Just a little somethin~
Edit:
(start Edit)
Title: The Toilet Escapade.
It was a dark and gloomy day at the Junior Block, and I needed to scat.
BOOMS went the toilet door as I rushed in, bowels in great need of inevitable, glorious relief. Run, I did, to the cubicle that beheld my sight, upon seeing a perfectly fine toilet bowl, BOOMS went the door as I closed it behind my shoes. But lo and behold! As Fate would have it, there was no tissue! Evidently countless others had thought as I had, just a tad bit luckier and a large amount earlier.
With my dying breath, I flung open the horrendous wooden obstacle, and dragged myself to the one next door. I glance; the paper, the paper! The sheer whiteness seemed to blind me, or it might have been the tears of emotion. BOOMS went the door again, this time with a much greater enthusiasm than the first. But alas! Fate is cruel, and the cake is a lie.
Toilet seat, or toilet paper. That is the question.
(end Edit)
Okay, now where to begin. Ah yes. DMP!
Today was.. Freud and HMT. Freud was okay, quite interesting in fact. So basically everything around us is a giant penis. We kid you not. Anything ^ is a penis, everything V is the female version. That's Freud for you! Thinking out of the box.
Then HMT. This. Was. The. Best. Period. Of. HMT. In. Our. Lives. Seriously. The best. EVAR. We actually did something! This isn't normal in Chinese class. We felt so excited with instantaneous gratification that we actually decided to focus on the compo for that lesson. Whoo!
And we realized a certain prefect in our class has the, what was that. The want-to-sleep-with-your-teacher-but-instead-taking-the-term-'in your dreams'-a bit-too-literally syndrome. Not telling you who. Ryan's reputation would be ruined!
(at KFC for lunch, about a serving of what was that, value box thing and how he eats 'one small bite at a time'.)
Greg: I didn't know they serve the chicken so big!
Me: Don't get cocky, its just a wing.
(at bus stop)
Greg: Is that 13? Wait, I don't think its 13. Oh wait, it IS 13.
Mush: Buh!
Greg: What! I'm not wearing my specs.
Me: Oh, you are short sighted?
Then we did that roundabout thing at the playground near the Waffles Place. WHICH WAS HILARIOUS. We uh. Didn't go because uh. We no need lah! Next time, next time! (videos should be on Facebook anytime now..)
Okay, but we shall dedicate one paragraph to a certain two members of our Literature group who showed a significant amount of acceptance and tolerance today. Which is commendable! So we willingly applaud thee for thy greatness. *applauds*
If thy shall have me not,
Then have me denied.
For here, right now, thou must decide.
Through petty mindset and pernicious Pride,
I beg no longer; my Will hath died.
It suffers no more, it deserves no less,
For the Torture, Pain and Time to regress.
Now, To or Fro, choose either ride,
Lest come the day my Heart subside.
Okay! How is DMP so far. First day was okay. Nothing memorable. At all. BORING. Well, besides Freud which was rather interesting. For Freud is interesting! Everything else was a waste of time. *hint hint*
Second day! Which is today. First period is Analysis of blah blah through Gaming. SPORE I play before; defeated the Grox twice. So okay. Civilization! Rise of Nations! Eh! Both I play before!
BUT NO.
They chose Civilizations THREE and Rise of Nations ORIGINAL. WHAT THE GAU. *watches game trailers*
Then there was Nietzsche. Which was (naturally) awesome. And Thus Spoke Zarathustra is not un-understandable okay! IT'S PERFECTLY FINE. But seriously, folks.
And I think the theory of Eternal Recurrence is really cool. Didn't notice it in the book, for I was reading it rather for pleasure, or the storyline (shaddup).
To you people who don't know, basically Nietzsche says that instead of Life being linear, with a beginning and an end, its actually in the form of a circle. Where's the beginning? Where's the end? As there is no beginning and no end, there is nothing before the beginning and nothing after the end. So in that he wages war on most religions. Except the ever-elusive Pastafarianist belief, where Heaven is just down the street in Amsterdam.
Mhmm! I think I shall read more about it, as well as refresh my memory on Paradise Lost. Cheerio!
Eee.
Just realized how icky my DMP timetable was. ICKY.
Almost no free periods to speak of. Besides the computer game shizz, of course. But still.
I'm just going to go with the school bus and spend the first period sleeping in the library. D: Bah!
DEATH TO GERMANIA. For they are traitorous persons in Rome: Total War. DEATH TO LUGDUNUM. For they are rebellious.
But credit to them, for they gave me the awesome idea of thus: when a city's population grows too large and rebellious, jack up the taxes, MAKE them rebel and put down the peasants! Plunder the town, get back what the taxpayers owe you, and keep the upgrades from the last time! C'est magnifique!
Back to butchering Britannia.
Lust entertains me.
Gluttony sustains me.
Greed satisfies me.
Envy drives me.
Sloth rejuvenates me.
Wrath avenges me.
Pride elevates me;
Pride defines me;
Pride tells me: I'm perfect not being you.
'To become the spectator of one's own life, as Harry says, is to escape the suffering of life';
To disclaim responsibility for one's mistakes.
To voluntarily abandon the guilt of error.
To live a tragedy, or a comedy; to live as an actor for a part you wrote whilst knowing you need not act.
What art!
Nero!
My new favourite Roman Emperor. <33 (hart)
Its just such a tragedy! Power and art and insanity and chaos and-
Just see for yourselves. (:
Oh noesh! Brain worms! Repent! *dies and dissolves in a squishy mixture of tentacles and goo*
Warning: Might contain minor vulgarities.
Some Bach is good for the soul! (I see Bryan Cheong gloating already.)
I will set a resolution tomorrow. A resolution! That shalt not be broken by thine own hand!
RAGE '09. OVER.
And what better way to relax than in an air-conditioned room, watching BBC's The Picture of Dorian Gray (1976), drinking a nice piping cup of hot cocoa, whilst savouring caramel toffees off a glass plate.
C'est la vie!
'Nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are one's mistakes.'
New spectacles, old computer; all's right with the world.
What!
Okay, so tomorrow's RIGE's annual guitar concert. And frankly, we feel rather nervous. Partially because we do not fully know how to play the concert pieces, but nevermind that. Two songs in two schooldays is already very good, okay!
URGENT URGENT URGENT
To alto 2s> Any part you don't know how to play, MUTE THE GUITAR. Just DON'T PLAY. Yes, we mean you. And don't bother learning the whole thing. Instead of barely coping with the whole thing, just master specific parts and play them when the song gets there. Yes, ergo, SCREW THE RUNS.
Okay. Now that's done. Picture post!
What could this be! Could it be the fat behind of a Venetian woman? How but the naked buttocks of a da Vinci Cupid? Or perhaps the cleavage of a perverted paladin's pleasure pack?Wha-
Oh.
I give myself nine days.
I give the world nine days.
In nine days, everything not in, is out. Zilch. Zero. Nada.
Nine days.
//ixdays.