2 reasons

I've been very busy lately. I found a place to sort of keep my car for a while and have been chillin' around town for a while. Making money isn't really involved in the scenario, but I am learning some things.

You have to take the things you learn and put a quantity on them. "How damaging was this?" "How much did I benefit from that decision?" At the end of the day do you have more or less than you started out with, that is of prime importance. I think people feel this way. Therefore, a person needs to exact very skeptical scrutiny on their experiences be they exciting or mundane. Life is short, so take a shitload of notes.

Heretofor a calculation begins to develop. Let's see if we can chart it:

Degree of life satisfaction=rate of learning* better decisions

rate of learning=awareness+application of knowledge

better decisions=negative responses/application of knowledge

knowledge=(listening)(watching)(feeling)(analyzing)(dreaming)

so if my quality of life can be enhanced by boosting other factors that relate to happiness, I am inclined to focus my studies to that increase; to do otherwise would be to pursue a philosophy of sadness.

WARNING!

Not all decisions made for good reasons will reuslt in net positive outcomes!!!!!

As Net Degree of Life Satisfaction weighs heavily on the outcome of moral/comfortable behavior not all actions will yield a positive net bonus. This is not something that Reactionists feel very friendly about. Their primary goal is noramlization of belief structures. Unfortunately, they do not have the proper calculations to cull this property of humanity into fashion. Man perpetuates the function of disparate belief patterns under the most rigorous of normalization excersizes.

Rationalists, however, differ in believing that all things will irreversably disintegrate as they had once put themselves together. Therefore, all modern existence is a wash. It is merely an abnormal reaction to a few misled chemicals. True meaning to time, life, and the cosmos are as ridiculous as a wing for a face or plastic for skin. "If you belive life has meaning and you are willing to die for it, what meaning has life?" Making predictions on events that are unlikely is not generally considered "good practice" for an aspiring Rationalist.

My god I'm frunken. O
m not even sure where I am and it's kind of sark do I"m typing by the light of the monitor. I'm stoned as hell and pretty drunl so I"m using this guys typewriter to publish this littel ode to thoughtfulness.

HOOoooo Boy.....


I what I"ve been trying to get at for the past hour is that I try to balance all of my decision making with two factors. If I have two reasons to go and do grocery shopping, then it's worth doing. If I'm not sure what I should do with myasekf on a Saturday night then
I need to balance which options will fullfill the greatest positive reserves in my character. This, of course, is completely objective.

Everything I try to do must be upheld by two positive focused results in order to better my chances on gaining a net positive result from every decision I encounter. Ok, sir stoney will edit this later for a more conscious mind. I should be ok here for a bit.

God Curse Your Sober Mortal Souls

I don't think any of you out there could even guess what it's like to be followed. You could not even fathom, in in you wildest dreams what it means to not go to the places you love because you know someone is gonna see it and tell someone else. Fuck!

I am writing from a random truck stop in some greasy hellhole, to tell you I'm fucking miserable. I had no Thanksgiving to speak of, and Christmas is actually going to endanger me... cuz I"ll be the only guy without anywhere to go!

Look:


I am in a very serious need to find my brother. Not only does he mean my life to me, but I need him. Damn! My head is swirled. I've wanted to write here; so much to say. (haha- it said 'her' originally) A lot has happened recently. Thank god for the midwest. there is nothing out here; anonymity is perfunctory. No one cares who you are.

It's not like that where I'm from. Everyone knows everything about you, your mother, your sisters, your fucking aunts and uncles. It's sick. There are people everywhere; crawling out of every open sewer. God it's enough to choke you. All the same too, all of them. Swarthy; downtrodden; ancient.

Out here (her again) nothing uncommon happens. The scenery expands at its bland pace covering the rich loam with seedy indignation and ripe hypocracy. It's utterly fantastic. You never know where you are, or who is going to find you.

I just got paid for a pretty large delivery. I don't know what it was, but I can be sure it wasn't bodies or animals. The vehicle was too compact to have much more than pharmaceticals buried in the lining. I have a new ride (shitty, of course) and a few thousand dollars in my pocket to keep me fed for a while, but honestly, I"m starting to get worried.

Unfortunately, I can't blame my own moral decrepitude on my brother. Though I suspect him of some dark, apocryphal stuff, I am completely prepared to accept the unending shit-tide of horrible luck and self-obliteration that my own bad decisions have started. Pretty much I have burned all my bridges, and all the wood to make future bridges, and every piece of driftwood and flotsam that could ever even remotely be construed as of bridge making proportion and burned it right up. No one comes and talks to me; I am left alone. I am the last man standing on a deserted island full of large, mishappen stone heads.

Luckily it's not too bad out here. I believe I have enough blankets to stay in the car tonight. I can't go on anyway.