lost, losing, lasting, light
9,003 words

Day 3 - Directionless

6:25 PM

Almost didn't write this one today. It just feels sorta pointless, droning out about everything, typing, but there's no place else to put my energy. Doesn't make sense, here I am though, writing, thinking out loud like Ed Edd and Eddy Sheeran. Trying to make myself laugh. Used to think that was the meaning of life, making yourself laugh. Now idk, I think it's still important. What else is important? Hmmmmm… life. Life is important, it gets me furniture and entertainment and drugs. There's so much stuff everywhere. Humans are so much to me. Relentless, incessant. There's no break, no way to stop the mind. Is there? I've been trying so hard to meditate I can't help but do it before I fall asleep, so I never really sleep anymore because this idea of a lucid meditative state is so luxurious to me, so alluring, like women, feet, a slender body a big bosom. Sex. Is that what I want? Crave? I crave sex, to be wanted by an attractive woman. To feel love from somebody that could fuck whoever they want. I have this constant urge to masturbate or fuck like a dog, when I see something hot I feel it. In my dick, my mind wanders. I have been masturbating every day, I can't stop I don't want to stop. There's no harm, right? God I don't know. It seems like there's nothing wrong with anything anymore. This idea of right and wrong, what is is? What virtues do I value? What do I value at all? What makes a good man? The people we admire are wrong, nobody is a full time model. There's a drone. There's a drone. My fingernails are getting long.

I want to play Rayman 3. It's so colorful and whimsical, I love that shit. The randomness of it all. Abrupt surprise. Nonsense. The beauty of sporadic gibberish, expression, no reason because everything has to have a reason so things with no reason excite me. Do I want to do that? I've been thinking if life was a game, who would I want to play as? Well, I'd want to play as / experience the human that has the potential for the best life, the most life, a completionist. But that's not the craziest celebrity or a homeless twat, it's somewhere in the middle of it all. Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the main character and I chose this, but where do I go?

This life is the wildest open world game. Maybe I chose this time because it's the lifetime that experiences how and when and why humans created a virtual life. In the future, there's gotta be some simulation made that's as fulfilling as real life. It might happen in my lifetime, by the way the pattern of development has been going. I'm gonna witness that, buy it for Playstation 7. And then what happens? When the game that's the most lifelike is made, then what? Do games stop having interest? Will everything be a DLC for this one game? Games in a game? A virtual for loop, spiraling inward like a slinky, is that what we become? What this life is? Humans have been around for billions of years, if the ps1 can have polygons and the ps5 can have ray tracing all within 20 years, what the fuck does that make this life?

Maybe.

Day 2 - WILD

3:26PM

I had a "dream" last night, or early morning. I say "dream" because I haven't been having real visual dreams, it's kinda like I hear everything that's going on in the scene and I piece together a potential visual representation of all the details after, but I never actually "see" anything. It's probably because I keep trying to WILD, or Wake Induced Lucid Dream. I get my body in a state of meditation, complete airflow and empty carcass, floating, and I convince my brain I'm asleep when I'm concious. And I keep going until I hit REM, and my brain executes a dream. It works in theory, or reddits, but I can't go far enough. I'm always stuck at the edge, maybe seeing some lights, some very tiny particle visuals, but never crossing over into 3D space. The dream. I just hear the echoes of it, and guess the rest, which I guess is what a dream is, just guessing. I like to do this thing where I let my subconcious free and fly around with it, riding the train of thought, jumping from scene to scene to person to place to whatever. Unfinished sentences, incomplete thoughts and words without direction, like a stuttering mental patient that kinda has it under control but doesn't speak in traditional structure. The more I dive into meditation, the more I feel connected to that directionless direction. The spazz. The nonsense. The complete banality of farce. Even if it doesn't make any sense, I feel the sense it's trying to make. I can finish its sentences. I can understand the truth in the abyss.

This dream was about 4-square, an old game I played in elementary school. I started off with around 5 other friends, names from grade school. And somebody drew the squares and got the ball, and I sat and watched, not saying anything but nodding and laughing with them. Then we started playing, and I was third in line. Suddenly Cole Nickerson wanted to play, and since he's so popular he brought the entire school with him. The line became enormous, the people were bustling. And I had stepped out of the line to talk to a friend, just watching what my friends and I made. This game, I didn't do a single thing, but I was there with the friends when they made it, and I laughed with them. The line was over 100 people, and I wanted to play so I walked back to my spot, around second in line, and I tried to talk to the people in those spots but they ignored me. And I laughed and played it cool, but people ignored me, and walked past me, and didn't consider me in line. And I talked to Cole, telling him that I was second in line when we started playing and I was there in the beginning and I wanted to play, and Cole said no. And I said come on and he said no. And I said it's less than 5 minutes I just want this tiny time that's meaningless, you won't even allow that? And Cole said no.

And I got really angry at this, but everybody ignored me. Shunned me, stepped around me, had their own conversations. I felt outraged, like I had some stake in the origin of the game. Like I deserved unending credit, and I wanted that. The fame, the ability to move wherever, cut whoever, be known by the entire line and able to play when I wanted. Not according to the rules of the line, start in the back NO. I needed the power to be whatever necessary. Free roaming. No lines for Brandon. I didn't even really want to play, I just wanted to be able to cut in line and be acknowledged and allowed and even smiled at for my action. Accepted. But I wasn't, in that moment, and I wanted to punch Cole. I wanted to destroy the game. Erase the chalk squares and pop the ball so nobody could play. I wanted to destroy my "creation," even though all I did was stand and watch and laugh to these people who weren't even my friends, just they were there and I was there and they didn't want to disclude me even though they did but the laws of society would deem that as bullying and bullying is a big no no. I had the audacity to use those laws to believe in my head that I created it all, that I was just as important as the creators, as the 4 square popular kids, the gods of the grade school children.

The dream ended after that. Why did I do that? Instinctually? No question, I automatically assumed power. Maybe it's because my observations of power have shown it to belong to those who claim it. And in that situation, just being around the original 4 squarers, I saw the opportunity to claim it. Without even thinking, I saw I could claim to be one of the original creators and benefit from the assertion and there would be no penalties because the lie was inconceivable. It was easy, so easy I did it without even realizing it. I called myself a creator. I took the power as my own, and I believed everybody would assume it. Why do I crave that power? That sight of being seen as a cool, original kid? The original creator, impossible to avoid, to miss. Why do I need that? The ability to free roam, do literally anything, no lines. I fucking hate lines. I hate them more than the attraction they are required to limit population for, whatever it is. I want the power to cut any line, be in any position. To insert myself into the array stack at any point. And for every member of the stack to be ok with it, even wave at me just for being there. Like it's an attraction in itself to be waiting in a line as me. Like that's something to brag about.

I need to begin a list of wants.

5:57 PM

I just spent 2 and a half hours working on a webpage for really nothing, overcomplicating it with react for no reason other than just learn how react works. It makes things so much more tedious, everything becomes different but that adds fun, interest. The extra lines it takes to make a div, now in javascript, idk it's good but the workflow is slower paced, harder for me to get a grasp on.

I didn't think, I just coded. For two hours, without anything. It's a countdown for this 4040 idea, maybe if I give others a way to do it easily and quickly, they'll find simple improvement too. Maybe I should go into coding more. Web design. But I don't like how other companies do it, I want things to be more automated. No accounts for each service, logins, logouts, people holding random information that they can get, it should be taken care of automatically. I should go to Facebook.com and automatically have an account returned, no ads or spyware tracking what I do, just a social media account. Autofilling my info, no logging in or out. I hate that so much, cut the middleman and do it for me. Maybe that's illegal tho, but companies already track and store an ungodly amount of info anyways. Would doing it automatically scare the user? Maybe? From using my site, from using others because others do the same thing in more secretive ways?

Idk why I'm web dev coding anyways. It's something to do, to keep my mind occupied. Like video games, and journaling, and playing piano every now and then. Hmmmmmm.… I really like this idea of a web without logins and logouts, auto handling of user devices, blantant user/company awareness like "hey we know what device you're on and we know who you are and we don't need your permission to get this data because you visited our site willingly. Maybe with a single checkbox? Info page on first visit, afterwards it's over?

My critiques with the world, the things that bother me about it all… The actions I can take to make it better, for myself and others. Is this what I want my mind to be occupied with? At least around the web, maybe. I'm listening to an artist called Ross from Friends, what a good ass name goddamn. Good music too, techno, edm, cool sounds though. Simple rhythms, I don't really pay attention it's just in the background. Is that good for art? I've always thought good art requires constant attention, but I'm grateful for this music too, how easy it is to listen to, how it pushes the focus on whatever I'm doing alongside it. It's good too, even though I don't remember any of the names of the songs, or anything about the artist. Just typing along, mindlessly.

I think for this 40 days I should allow the topics to come naturally, today is about dreams.

Day 1 - Origin

10:29 PM

Looks like the first day of this thing is already done. Christ that went by quickly, I just played video games again for most of it. I'm not even really enthralled by any of it anyways, I'm just playing it so my mind has something to be occupied on, because there's not a whole lot else. I'm just on autopilot with it all, holding w to move forward through the wasteland in Fallout NV. It's not even something I really want to do, like it's more of a chore than anything. Without it my mind just wants to disconnect. Guess that's what these 40 days are really about - disconnecting from it all. My vacation.

God what the fuck happened to me? I don't even want to write this, anything. The words are too simple, it's all nothing it's all pointless there's no reason for anything to be done. I don't find enjoyment from really anything anymore. Even music is a chore now, fucking music. Drugs just make the time pass by faster, and I'm not waiting for anything anyways. Maybe this is what life in a nursing home feels like, this dredge. Every day is another nothingness. Shadows. Ooze. It's fucking scribbling garbage like a tyrade of a monarch who wants to leave but doesn't know where to go, out of energy always. Like a one time use sex doll.

This doesn't feel good this feels boring everything is boring everything is meaningless and empty and dull, I've seen this all before. fuck. How am I gonna get through 40 days of this shit? This chore, the bottom of the well. I don't even want to tell anybody anything I don't even want to tell. If there's no reason to continue the messages are relentlessly incessantly broken. I feel like I'm in a different place. Somewhere between worlds, where my subconcious is in charge. And since he's mindless, the world's mindless too. Creativity is empty now.

And I can't imagine a single place or a single gift or a single anything that can bust me out of this. Maybe I went too deep, can't get back out. The well. I can't help but picture it all as that, like a giant hole in the ground that's been drained for decades, that used to feed a city but has dried out, everybody's gone but me. And I dove in there, rope tied around my ankle falling down, the bricks, the grey, so deep the hole above is missing too. There's no more light, and there's no more enjoyment, and there's no more emotion because this well has everything written on it's bricks in bright red ink. And the deeper you go, the darker it gets, the more you find nothing in it all. The truth that there's no reason to do anything, that everything's already been said and done and written and borrowed. Time is my rope, the bricks are the people and I am the Amazing Scandelous Brandon, diving to entertain the minds of the people. This hole is my stage, this is my peace.

Peace doesn't mean anything to me anymore. I don't know what that means, happiness is suffocating me, my depression is asleep but my insomnia lies in deep meditation, still but ready. Still but ready. I thought this would help, it's not really doing anything. I'm running on a treadmill to nowhere, and I've long since given up on myself. So where do I go from here? Why do I go anywhere? What do I want? Where is the treasure? What purpose is there for motion? When do I begin?