The subject of war is something that seems so obvious to most of us: "why kill to justify killing".
My political belief system has been newly honed, my education pretty much began with the induction of the president into office. Prior to this incident, I was pretty much ignorant of the political process; didn't think about it. Over the past few years I have read everything from bush as hitler to saddam as a martyr.
Personally I don't understand morally why we have our hands so deep in the shit of the middle east. I understand the whole "we need a port to land in" in order to protect our interests (ie our military advantage), but the insane amounts of money we have funneled into Israel have obviously not been to spark good humor or good neighborship with Palestine. Personally, if I was an extremist in my religious beliefs and was booted out of "the holy land", I would be pissed off. Granted, the killing can never be justified, but the anger at its base is nothing we can question. We have no business, in my opinion, fucking around over there. Our "fucking around" was pretty much a generalization of why we ...
I think these ideas people have about positive attitudes are antiquated and somewhat loosely based on ideas born from fairy tales. I think it also has more of a relevance for being stuck in the ideas and mentality that if you do good, good will be done unto you.
For some reason and somehow, it seems almost, at times, to be an irrelevant choice. To be good means that one won't find themselves in a purgatory imposed by "higher beings" or a self-enclosed hell. To be bad means that one won't find themselves floating and frolicking carelessly with the angels in their downy white jump suits, eating ice cream endlessly until all the days are done.
I wonder sometimes, though not trying stick my "I believe that bad things happen to good people sticker on" where the incentive is. I suppose in my own haphazard reality, doing ill upon other people has never been such an attractive facet of existence. But to brandish a shiny acid born smile in an instance when no good thoughts are flying through your head seems as much a lie and a "sin" as brandishing a tire iron against someone's skull.
Ok, enough with extremes. I would like ...
that whole self-apathy self pity kick I have been on for the past 4 years is officially ending. I started writing a little more again lately, and I am flushing all of the discussions, discussed many times over, out of my system. At the bottom is a picture of me at my happiest, looking like an ass...hahahahah.
I crush my cigarette out, watch the lingering stream of smoke curl upwards. I hate it when my cigarette keeps going, fueled by some unseen annoying curse. Sometimes I stick my fingers back in the ashtray, grab another butt, crush it out and hope that the curse will deaden under the force of my push.
My fingers linger over the relief map that is my body, my stomach marked in trails, white keloided staples splitting my rib, traveling up and around to my shoulder blade. My sternum is a braille tale of pain, wire and bone twisted, knotted into screams never uttered, trauma unspoken. I have this tube like a chinese finger trap up the side of my body. It curls under my armpit in an elipse, a metaphor for infinity. My legs seem to be kept on with the light pink slashes that were ...
