Jan 6th, 9:49 am

I
Boarded the bus to Montreal @ 8:20, 20 minutes late. Hungry and tired with no sleep. Can't sleep. I want to make art out of life and daily living (Ken Kesey). My words are growling like my belly.

I am being driven down an endless stretch of ribbon which rips through repetitive, indescribable nature, unfolding in endless variations of God. There is no one on this road but us: the halflifes, the undeads, the sleeping saints motioning @ 100km/h through limbo. Waiting to thaw to life by the dawn of urban breath. Until then, sleep and ignore this track of life.

II
So I am left here, with the option to calm and clear and write to explore the deepest crevices of logic-cum-memory-cum-inspirations. Along endless scroll is set before. The road never ends and it never covers regretted mistakes. It only moves on leaving a thin trail of heat exhaust and rubber behind. Indiscernible beyond that left by every other. White, black, loud, sick cars, no differences. We are all encumbered by consciousness, all running here and there and sitting boredoms in between. We all murmur out our lives, loud or not, enjoyable or deafly.

Cursive is the lost art of endless road.  And now in it I struggle for consistency, cohesion. If exaustion does not get the best of me I will continue, if my mortal state shall not need rest, I will fly it towards those who have no qualms with eternity. With love, on a bus, sharing two seats with inspiration: a travelling mathematician who is ready to flirt with you if you've worked hard enough on a humble temple for him to visit, to stay in.

2010 dec. 2nd

My life comes to this: I was never given the opportunities to fall into the well respected niches people die out of. I am in a struggle to find my own modest space.

Love is truly the mightiest thing. I can not just love Jesus because I would not love Buddha, Zeus, Moloch, Allah, Ra. Simply because it would be more profitable for me to only follow one path of love -a well trodden one like Christianity- does not mean it is the right one to follow. I love ...long long list of people... I love everyone. I love Charles Manson, I love the two serial killers who went to my school. God is a synonym for love. Humanists put this ultimate power of love and creation in our hands, to love ourselves. I need to tell...not love everyone enough. Every moment of everyone else's life is precious. When you come in contact with someone, you place yourself into them. You literally are a part of them. When you cause them ills, you hurt yourself too. Rastafarians say I and I because in this way we are all one. Empathy is key. Make the lives of other only better. Please. Golden Rule and all. 1 Corinthians 13