Latin vanus "empty, without substance"], again with the parasite reference thought thedope and he shared his thoughts without regard for whether or not they represented a treat or even the vaguest recognition. thedope really didn't care at all what Dejavu cared more or less about, everyone has their pets and even though Dejavu in general was free with his care there would be times when he could be downright stingy. It is not love that is not given but suffering grabbed onto as though the gritty and distasteful like a pungent spice, gave some kind of polished nobility to the flavor of the day. It is fine we are men of distinction but we are not so fine as men with da stink of shit. thedope didn't think feel or believe that attraction or repulsion were any guide to love but only to attraction and repulsion and these were guide for the unintended, not suited to lovers but allies and enemies of chance*. thedope smiled broadly, "having and being are the same truth." * some authorities insert, or hormonal secretions
"Ah, the dope" laughed Dejavu at thedopes reaction, "don't fear, I won't swallow you whole, just your words, and even those bit by bit, I couldn't deny conditions superceding itself if I tried." Dejavu loved love far too much to insist as thedope did that it be everything, it was enough for him that it became everyone. "Yes, having is being" he said, smiling at the broadness of thedopes smile, "And becoming, don't forget becoming!" thedope was to taste more of Dejavus abundant declination to adopt, which was not to say accept, his expression. "Nature gives no guide to love. All lovers are allies and enemies of chance, but as lovers they are able, not destined, to make chance their own." he said, for example.
Dejavu had perhaps forgotten his parents? Oh, and there are those hormonal clues. We are both nature and nurture and animals learn as well as being instinctive, we always choose with a guide, said thedope. Certainly as a word in a language love has a shared core meaning which is strong positive feeling for someone or something. Enthusiasm is something we are never ever without to varying conscious degrees and although our enthusiasm may grow dim that spark of being cannot be snuffed out and even to those who felt they had given up they had done so only to be inspired again. There is no just passionate excuse from unconditional positive regard, there is no place in the world or in our hearts where our complaints are truly welcome but vanity would claim not to love something in order to demonstrate it's love, crazy isn't it, seek but do not find! thedope was never enemy of chance nor did he form alliances. What thedope gave was truly given and therefore uncontested and true to the azimuth of condition, defenselessness is invulnerability. "No, those who are on conditional terms with life are screwing with it for the cause of virginity. If we both love and love not the terms cancel each other out making them both subject to arbitration and unreliable." It seemed to thedope that to make chance your own is taking a chance and he would much rather influence probability.
"Of course not, silly lion," laughs the little mouse, for nature knows not of love. Nature is about existing and procreation. The survival of the fittest is what matters to nature. Even if humans are but speaking animals, beast with what they like to call reason to set them apart from nature. "No, Dejavu love is a fantom of the human mind. A much beloved fantom but a figment with no reason for its existence other than to please humans." She smiles and whispers, "... and a little mouse."
Between, or rather following thedopes lie that defencelessness is invulnerability and the little mouses figmented love, Dejavu was very much inclined to leave the slot without its breakfast and be outside where he belonged. He read again thedopes words. No, still no guide to love. But he listened to thedopes saying he was no enemy of chance, it only being certain chances that have us at enmity, and liked what he heard, until it resulted in thedopes not wanting to take a chance, his thinking that his 'influencing probability' was any different. It wasn't as though in making chance our very own we somehow take it away. One funny thing was thedopes battle with vanity, his pleading insanity for it, when it was only a form of seeking, and in no way itself the demand that it not find its way to something more substantial. Another, his thinking he could be on any other terms with life than conditional ones! But best of all, making Dejavu laugh in and out at the same time, was thedopes notion that love and that which isn't or doesn't love ( or by thedopes understanding, professes not to, obstructs the perception of, takes exception to etc. etc. ) cancel eachother out! Now, Dejavu was on the same page with all the others here, literally, but he was really struggling to find the yes to having no bananas. Wasn't loves suicide only something that teenagers dribbled in lieu of a lustier poetry? Dejavu was on his own as usual, as always? "Oh go on" said the slot generously.
At Dejavu's laughter thedope recalled a time when he thought he was twelve and had taken to complete an english assignment at school. Each student member of the class was to write a short story and thedope wrote one called the smallest quarterback. "On the due date of our assignment we were called upon each to read aloud our composition to the class. As I stood and began to read from the first sentence the room exploded into laughter. My fellow students were laughing and I glanced to see the teacher, a huge man six foot seven inches tall, laughing. The room was bubbling and the noise of the crowd cause my spine to tingle electric and I began to laugh with no power to control it to the point that I was no longer able to read aloud. The teacher took over for me reading the rest of the story and we all continued to laugh, that is is until the teacher announced to the whole class that I would not be getting an A grade because the story was so funny I couldn't have possibly written it myself and suggested that I had copied it from somewhere." One could imagine from that point that thedope surmised that academic authority was suffering from the defect of too much inbreeding. It was also at that time that thedope was surprised to learn that people supposedly in the know could be so clueless because they could not bring themselves to believe or accept something that seemed to them to be too good or too far fetched to be true. It had the effect over a lifetime of making thedope a sly man, who by birth by hook or by crook had come discover a secret that allowed him to enter the life of any man whether that man was aware of it or not, the secret being that he was genuine beyond the suspicion of any authority, well liked that is. At this point an ephemeral voice broke in to say, now is all being Our attention is a fixed point. When we perceive not love we are being distracted if love is what we desire. You cannot cultivate two complete or completely diverging thoughts at the same time and now is the only time we experience anything.
"Let's have it then" said Dejavu, wanting to hear the smallest quarterback and see for himself if it was all it was cracked up to be. "An entertaining read, until that crap about entering men and the voice of god horseshit about our attention being a fixed point." he added, looking at the artwork thedope had posted, wondering if thedope expected him to love it. "Can I ask you what that particular piece means to you thedope? Why you posted it? If you like it?" he asked, knowing already the following about it: "Can't say I'm a fan myself, I reckon a twelve yearold could do better." He said, tilting his head critically and squinting at the thing. "Yes, I'm afraid this one is just not good enough to be true." Dejavu would have preferred to have whet his blade of discernment on something wheatier, but he supposed it did not matter much to thedope who professed to be tired of tasting, even if he wasn't really. He decided to go on holding thedope to thedopes own hysterical hypocrisy. "Would you love to have your life entered against your will thedope?" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1WmF-0N5KY"]The Littlest Angel (clip) - YouTube
"I won't say I find it aesthetically pleasing," replied thedope, "Perhaps aesthetically irritating on many levels. I posted it for the way it plays on the associations of your past and accordingly the way it melds with the text." thedope was pleased that Dejavu provided the biographical detail regarding the image and the creators questions, thedope whose left didn't monitor what his right did or even which who's to use, had no idea the succinctness of his choice and had chosen the image anonymously in looking for some representation of the real thing. Life was like that for him in that things just lying around functionally fit as though placed there especially for him, others would say that everything he touched turned to gold. Of course it looked that way but that is not the way thedope saw it. He thought only not to question the propensity of things to emerge abundantly and to expect them to emerge diversely. It is quite the opposite of the critical acclaim that would rule things out. "Dejavu," happily responded thedope, "I don't know the measure or boundaries of my life, but thus far it has been my will to live. I can't provide you with the twelve year old's story. It is a story who's details belonged to the twelve year old and happened to tickle the fancy of an authority figure to the point of ugly suspicion, an indecent liberty in every respect to accuse even though one has the right as master of their own mind to bid unto themselves whatever they desire, taste without knowing can lead the decent into the descent and this is how things most often enter ones life, against their will. The human will is not even recognized until the sympathetic and parasympathetic autonomous nervous system is mastered. Don't let anyone knock you from your noble steed lion."
Disappointed, Dejavu had a feeling he would have liked thedopes story, just as he liked thedope himself as a young dope. "If love for you is the real thing, where is the critical acclaim that would rule things out?" he asked. "What ugly crime against love have you committed that you would demand love be of everything?!" he added. "When I said it is enough for me that love became everyone, I meant it." He looked about now for the little mouse he had wronged in figmentation. "Little mouse, please come out and accept my apology, I believe in you and your love." I wonder if she could translate for me to thedope, he thought, who is making himself midas to his own imagination, to tell him that whether he rides into his own on an ass or a thoroughbred it is still his own he rides into. He laughed, knowing thedope probably already too cold to his own touch for any translations save his own skin. "Let your will be to love" he said to thedope.
What thedope meant by the real thing is that he himself accepted no substitutes nor did he settle for less than total participation from himself. He did not seek outside himself and managed to come up with the goods. Love is what we are and all we do we do in love although in the throws of suffering that fact becomes obscure. Passion is taste and taste of itself has no idea what it has a taste for, the body responding physically and emotionally to what the gatekeeper of personal experience tells it, the thought comes and coming with the thought are the words and deeds that articulate it. The body is our steed but the rider is the mind and the mind has grip on the bit and turns the head and quickens the gait through his reigns and a hitch in his circumstances. thedope had committed no terrible crime against love but at one point in his life had thought he had lost it or wondered if he had ever known it at all coming to question everything he thought he knew or had experienced heretofore in his life. At that point he heard a voice, "look inside yourself and find that part of you that has not been touched or affected by any event in your life", lo and behold that eager innocent light was still as it had been but had buried under the detritus of a lifetime of accusation that thedope had mistakenly taken to heart. It is from that point that thedope began to learn the world anew building on the only sane thought he had ever had. Dejavu couldn't believe thedope could be bored with sensation, perhaps he could understand that thedope had not passion for it because what he realizes as compared to what he had looked for is sublime.
"When one looks for something one shall not find, for the finding is to be stumbled upon rather than to be sought after." The little mouse laughs. "But then again, never sought isn't found either." Smiling she sits back. "Do not worry, Dejavu, no offence taken. No need for apologies my love is everlasting and unconditional. Like nature holds no grudge, a mouse has no need for what others imagine her intentions to be." And she dances off into the dark night to steal some words of another place.
Dejavu knew Zarathustra would not mind him reposting his words, that he would probably say "As everyones and no-ones you may do what you please with them, only choose to know why that you may choose your very own overall."
thedope recognized the words of Nietzsche as visions in a cup of poppy milk. Perhaps Nietzsche had met a sublime man but he in no wise was discussing the sublime finding in the sublime man that he met ugly laughter thinking sublime men in general espouse doctrines that drain life's potential. Did he meet the sublime? It seemed to thedope that zarathustra met something less than beautiful but sublime by definition is awe inspiringly beautiful, and thus the laughter, a result of finding yes and no in the same place and the incapacity to place those disparate measures dissipates into chuckles. So witnessing the sublime was a stranger to Nietzsche suffering from illness and instead of having the liberation of clear perception and fine measures, he substituted with dreams of the superb body of supermen. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t5Rn7S2zLWE
Dejavu had noticed, having posted four (the last before this being the fourth ) things of Zarathustras during his stay at Hip Forums, that thedope did not seem to like him, or Nietzsche for that matter. Dejavu did though, and it was his thread. "Let's pour out some more!" he thought, following through by doing just that.
How mistaken could thedope be mistaken for wondered thedope. thedope said he recognized Nietzsche's words and the personal perspective they came from in making them his own and gave the reason why, as per invitation or so thedope imagined of the soon but no sooner and progenitor of this thread. It was not at all that thedope didn't like Nietzsche all pithy and creative but that Zarathustra had confused himself with and longed to improve his own reflection. Like a canary in a cage who sees his reflection and thinks he is looking ant another bird. Eyes have not seen nor ears heard the good things prepared for those who love good and those who de-fine good things or prefer their complaints sometimes find them not. Since being invited to share the thoughts of others thedope had practiced of the American transcendentalist triumvirate, Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Walt Whitman. and thedope showed up
To stay on the subject and yet turn another corner the little mouse remembers Nietzsche and how he often made her smile. "Remember Dejavu staring into an abyss for too long will make it stare back at you and who knows what it sees." She laughs and dances to the tune filling the house. "Sometimes one must not want to scratch the thin layer of humanity from the mindless beast which hides and must be fed. Rarely one who saw within the abyss found something they truly loved. A beast lurks in the darkest corners of all human minds, are they not all just their one? Regardless of others?" But the little mouse sips her coffee and sits back on the sofa staring into her own depths and she sways, laughing.
...getting good isn't it, I'll drop some Plato in then... Jats is smiling thinking of some of Plato's more famous quotes now that are appropriate, still... yet a lesser known one is 'How can you prove whether at this moment we are sleeping, and all our thoughts are a dream; or whether we are awake, and talking to one another in the waking state?' "...na he would be too busy in this future suing people for nicking all his ideas than be bothered with the likes of you and me then..." and that reminds Jats to see if a good copy of 'Inception' is available yet, same thing without all that chosen one bollocks
Playdough, the relatively edible toy, the stuff that dreams are made of whether waking or seeping, considered thedope. We dream day and night and night and day and night and we see ourselves figures in the dream but forget when we are supposedly awake, that we are the dreamer. Day or night dreams are of the same inconsequential patency and rather than tell the difference between day and night perhaps determine the difference between waking and sleeping. Dreams are speculative, cautious, and hopeful. Wakefulness is observant, defenseless, and competent. There are many sleep walkers in this world and even thedope had been dreaming he was ambulant only to awaken to being carried away in an ambulance. Don't go back to sleep... don't go back to sleep....
Dejavu couldn't quite make out thedopes objection or complaint with the canary-like confusion thedope himself had concocted. And despite his distaste for thedopes cannibalization of that corrupting corinthian claptrap, he thought he'd still say a thing or two. "Who prepared them then? Did they prepare themselves? And that special little seed, the pit to the over-cured prune you've provided, what to do but spit it out too? As though a good defined were less fine for the defining, as though a good could ever be indefinable as opposed to indefinitely definable! As though love has no definition!" At least thedope showed up, he thought, if not always with the goods he boasted about. He saw Shaws Androcles and the lion on the bookshelf. Maybe he'd read it. He read the quotes from the authors thedope had posted. "I've read those fellow Americans of yours that you... practice? I love them, despite not being able to love all their words, Whitmans closing ones for instance 'death is as great as life'. You know, Emerson, that good egg, said it is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them. I haven't read Thoreau. I heard tell he went to the waldeny woods to escape the public shaming he was ever in reception of for accidentally arsonating someone elses. Beside the point though. Make it a quadrumvirate thedope. Get Twain in there somewhere." he said.
