Stream Of Consciousness thread

there's no end to time, time can't stop, time won't even cease when matter becomes motionless, the void can never be returned to, endless specks of meaningless force and particles dancing on the edges of existence forever, no end, no escape, no exit

The problem with us if I may be too bold. Is love comes and grips with all the could bes and should bes swarming as killer bees. The tactic of this generation is to court various lovers until one strikes that right chord. Those of us fortunate enough to ride high towards the sun are almost destined to bemoan its illustrious warmth as if it were deserved. True as all that might be, it could've been beautiful years.

Whatever I value in life eludes me like the wisp of love I felt three years ago as I passed the coffeeshop everyday on the walk to school. I knew what days she worked, and one day even mustered up the courage to ask her out. I paced back and forth in my living room, reciting to myself aloud what I would say and how. When I walked into the cafe, I could see that she was gathering her things to leave work. I said hi to her near the condiments bar, trying to get a read on her immediate plans. We had a good rapport, and I could feel that she knew we had some kind of palpable though ineffable connection: that feeling hearkened in movies of star-crossed lovers reuniting through an eternity of reincarnations (think Cloud Atlas). She told me she had lost her debit card downtown, and asked me if I'd like to accompany her to go retrieve it. Acting as smooth as possible, I contained my volcanic glee and said sure. As we began walking, I asked her questions about herself; I think she could tell I was nervous. Beautiful beyond belief and three years older than me, I don't blame myself for it at the time. Anyway, she informed me that she was a double major in English and philosophy: I asked her if she was joking. 'Too perfect to be true' was the phrase that shot to mind. And of course, it was. Like a cerebral palsied eleven year old trying to assemble a Lego set, I asked her if she'd like to go out sometime—something ambiguous about a drink without exactly sounding like a date. A tender sorrow immediately fell over her face as I saw the machinations of rejection quickly take form. She couldn't believe how cute I was, and her and her coworkers at the coffeeshop constantly talk about how much they love me (the quirky and charming daily customer) but alas, as the wanton cunts of fate would have it, she had a boyfriend. Of course I asked who he was in shameful bitterness and resentment. Oh, a guy from school. Fabulous. Fumbling with my knotted heartstrings, I convinced myself that I had left my glasses at the shop and needed to go get them. Of course, halfway back, I feel them in my pocket. My dejected spirit lied to me to avoid further embarrassment. Give me love or give me death: the friendzone is for the meek. Sadly, I only saw her two more times after that, both awkward encounters. She had already given her two week notice, and I couldn't help but, on some ineluctably marrow deep level of absolute cosmic certainty, know that I had missed the opportunity to be with the love of my life. And she just served me coffee. For a semester.

Some feelings just never leave you.

sorry, there were just a few typos that bothered me And yeah, it's strange. I've been with my share of lovers. Currently on a bit of a streak. But, for whatever reason—be it carnal, cosmic, or chemical—I've simply never felt such a profound attraction and reaction and *feeling* of connection with anyone else as I did with that broad. I could write pages of cliches about it, so I won't

I don't know where this idea came from, that love is separate from sex. I understand that it originated in Plato, and that Aristotle picked parts of it up, and it developed through the scholastics and the writers of epics to a pitch in Courtly Love. Or something like that. My understanding of history leaves something to be desired. But I know of Platonists and Plato, and Aristoelians and Aristotle, and I know that in this former what is commonly called "Platonic" (i.e. sexless) love was born. I'm just astonished at the degree to which it has permeated the stifled, old unconscious of a culture twenty five hundred years and four thousand miles (about) removed from these great Greeks. This conception is what thots revolt against with promiscuity, and ruins marriages with a false separation of physical pleasure from the spiritual, to a degree. Of course it's more complicated than that, I doubt anyone excepting Marx's own sweet bottom boy could account for every material factor contributing to the dire state of love that all seem to think emergent in the waste of social interaction.

But I have some good friends, so I abide.

Some good things just don't happen I suppose.

Tactical nuke incoming!

You do a pretty good cariacature of Joyce desu, a a cariacature for sure but a good one nonetheless

Who?

Sitting in the bed reading Veeky Forums Brooke Magowan was my high school crush she would be disgusted by me doing this but maybe I shouldn’t care. Not sure what I’m supposed to get out of this. I’m thirsty and want some water. Stopping briefly to drink some water. I’ve read several novels in the last week, they’re all off the Veeky Forums starter kit. I’m kind of embarrassed to admit what a novice reader I am on Veeky Forums. But who honestly cares. I haven’t been on Veeky Forums in over a month and now I’m writing a stream of consciousness post on Veeky Forums. I can’t stop masturbating, I find myself pathetically lazy. I think I’m starting to read so that I can at least take pride in my laziness since most lazy people watch tv or play video games or smoke weed and reading books seems better. Just recently smoking too much weed and doing LSD has landed me in a mental hospital twice in a 5 month period. I’m not using the drugs anymore that they gave me, they keep insisting I take drugs for bipolar disorder but the side effects are awful and I think the psychosis I had was just drug related and I don’t have a disorder. The experience has left me vaguely interested in psychiatry but I suspect that like every other thing I’ve ever tried to pursue I’ll be off put by the first sign of difficulty and give up. The toilet just ran again and I don’t know why they do that all the time. I guess the water leaks down or something at the tank has to refill or whatever. I’m not really clear on how most things mechanically work it’s one of those things I’ve never really cared about. I’m writing this on my phone for example and I have no idea how the phone works neither the hardware or the software. Similar to my own body and brain for instance, I always hated biology in high school, mainly because my teachers were shit and I had to take 3 years of it because of a stupid coincidence that’s too hard to explain. I just looked at the copy of the Tennessee blue book for the 2015-2016 year that’s sitting on my bookshelf, it’s a book that lists all the government big wigs in Nashville. I have it because my brother did and internship there. I’ve probably given enough personally identifiable info for someone who knows me to recognize me but that’ll never happen, nevertheless I’m reminded of the dumb meme where a person feigns recognition by saying “go to bed so and so” and those /b/ threads. My first experience on this stupid website was that some jerk off from down the street was here for a sleep over when I was 14 and we were on our laptops and he started reading an incest greentext story on /b/ and I secretly masturbated to it later that night and I was going on /b/ all the time later. I don’t have any sisters so I’ve never felt guilty about masturbating to incest stories and porn, usually I don’t really relate to that aspect. I don’t even have any attractive female cousins.

And then for now you sing yourself to sleep you wish away the sorrows of the day and the morn and the night and fling your sorry self into a sleep a slumber where you’ll dream dreams dreams where you’re happy and maybe the past and maybe you’ll see dad and maybe you’ll get to tell him goodbye or maybe not and when you wake up you’ll be happy too and forget that everything’s bad until it all comes rushing back in that terrible moment when you wake up like a video game you can’t just start a new game you load your save file and go back to where you were before and keep playing and playing and playing and playing and playing and playing and playing even though it makes you sick to your stomach.

Same about the sisters thing. I was also in inpatient for some lsd(I-25) trip. They gave me medicine that made me tired as fuck. I stopped taking it like a year and a half ago, and they kept telling me I could *snap*. (Told me I had bipolar shit). After I said I hadn't taken it in months to my therapist she brought up that she had convened with like 6 other professionals and they concluded I had smoked some type laced weed, probably with embalming fluid. Regardless even if I did NEED it I can't stand the idea of having to have some thing change who I am in order to exist. I find it existentially terrifying.

I'm going to assume you meant James Joyce because that's all google brought up.

I’m open to the possibility of being bipolar but in my view unless a person has a manic episode that is not caused by drugs it’s unfair to make that diagnosis. I can see the rationale in having them continue to take the drugs (the antipsychotic and mood stabilizer) because most recreational drug users will continue to use them, so they hope to protect them from future episodes with the medication. But in my case I’ve finally learned my lesson and I’m never going to mess with any drugs again, at least until I’m wealthy and retired or on my deathbed. It’s kind of sad to think I may never get to use mushrooms and MDMA and DMT or use acid again, but i like sanity better, and the hospital stays cost my parents thousands of dollars so I think they’re liable to disown me if I do it again. In any case I’ve stopped both recreational drugs and my medication and I feel quite well for the first time in over a month so I don’t plan on going back.

I get ya. I sometimes wonder if my dad had it. For me I've decided if I do any drugs (year and a half sober) it's not going to be until I've found comfortable success. And it's only going to be with either a babe or one of my heroes. Good luck to you.

I am the akrasia! Broth! Drink me and Die!

So I was standing there at this urinal and this big cake showed up with an orange gange of mutts. The amerimutts didn't take kindly to my marble floor but the soup was in the kitchen and the oven was baking bread. Soon I found out Laura was noodling a sweater for the boys in nam while my dog was jerking off over a korean steak episode and my password for a large percentage of individual accounts renders a crafted collage of horsecum lover friendly theatre.

Whenever I plan to make plans my life seems to go in the opposite direction, I'm like two people who are at eternal odds but the monster in me is a schemer who always ends up outsmarting the good side of me.