April 27, 2012

The Holy Dark

I’m generally not a huge fan of debates over religion. I like the idea of them – of people coming together to present arguments for and against religious positions – but conversations and debates over religion almost never even approximate that ideal of rational, civil, critical, self-reflective discussion. They usually just turn out to be a few people reiterating, with increasing volume and vigor, their own religious or non-religious view, along with their tired stereotypes of the other’s view. So, one way to fix discussions over religion is to inject a little civility, humility, and critical thought into them.

But that’s what everyone already knows is wrong with most debates over religion (except the people who participate in them). There’s another problem with these discussions/debates, though, that is less obvious: when people engage in these discussions, they normally aim too high. Specifically, it’s generally the position of person A in…

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Timothy McSweeney Understands Why. He Does Not Understand How.

Some stellar writing prompts.

Occupy: first-ish thoughts

September 24, 2011

I’m consumed.  Everyone needs to know there’s a revolution at the doorstep, ringing the buzzer, trying to get us out of the house.  A house with repainted walls and boxed food that only takes a few seconds to heat then is gobbled down in front of plasma screens, showing court cases and hallow celebrities.  Media men discredit those picketers.  The one’s who’ve got nowhere to stand.  Always taught: “You can make a difference” and “You can accomplish anything you set your mind to”.


If you don’t mind, stop telling us we’re a disorganized lump of hippies beating on drums out of tune.


At least we’re beating.  A song will come in time, with a chorus of followers, evolving our forefathers’ demands.

December 21, 2010 An Entry

December 21, 2010

Start: 1:10 am- December 21, 2010

I can’t express what I’m saying. I really just wish that someone understood me. I know that’s cliché, but it’s just how it is. I think everyone feels that way. I’m lost again. I keep using my first person pronoun. What is there really to write about?

Flocking between my limbs
I hear something new. Pleasant, but intimidating.
Every moment compressed to this exact configuration of space-time.
This feels uplifting, but nobody is watching. The blind eye infuses, dictated by physicality. Urgent to impress yet limited by doubt.

This may be considered cheating, but I love listening to music. Anything really. I’m forever restricted to an external environment.

Hear me! I want to touch an understanding of the sensations which is embodiment.
Trying to describe the perception constantly. A utility of and for experience. There isn’t a story to be told, but trust me; I realize an existence. It’s got to be heading somewhere.

I accept reality as truth.