if you're in a dark place, where
you want to lash out with pettiness
and anger.. you want to insult someone,
express how hurt you are by what they
did.. do it. lose yourself in that dark place..
embrace it. become inspired with terror and
anger and malice. the 'enlightened' approach
is overrated.. it is also unnatural. be free to
express anger, sadness, malice.. embrace your
shadow. stop running from it. stop violently
repressing it with manners and futile attempts
at self-improvement. embrace your ego, because
the greatest ego trip is to think you have transcended
the ego. enlightenment is everything, because 'everything'
is non-dual. you are still a Buddha if you run your mouth
with angry knives. 'Nice' can be violent, because 'nice' can
imply self-oppression. Free yourself with a needed 'hey,
*******!'

you're alive. so you might as well admit it. lose
yourself both in beauty and in terror. let all of
it set you on fire with inspiration, and admit
that, sometimes, you really do just want to
watch the world burn, otherwise there is no
room for anything else to grow. let yourself
stoop to that level and admit you house evil
as well as good. you are night and day. it's
all part of the mad dance of life, so you
might as well turn the music up and stop
holding yourself down tooth-and-nail in
order to save face.

your anger is a beautiful thing. embrace it.
your sadness is a beautiful thing. embrace it.
your life is a beautiful thing. embrace it.

every last inch of it. every nook and cranny.

every dark vacuum and every bright field.

Chekhov and Murakami came to me in short spurts of memory; as if the life of a keyboard was a retro invention sinking the ancient sea bona fidelis. Temper Fidelis and sorry larks wish upon the galoshes you wore to repeated proms instigated in large moral distances between burning barns (it's a dangerous hobby). Starved for trapped frogs with claws and violence was a question answered in blood so two wrongs made a state of nothingness free of wrong or right (you nihilistic *****!) she suggested a better drink to pick at Starbucks: 'a flaming frappucino at 140 degrees.' (what are you, some angry Russian aristocrat contemptuous of an English wife T-minus a decade ? )close-bracket)

God is sick of two things: my continued and addicted references to Judaeo-Christianity and the dragged sympathy of humanity for his lost son ("it's been 2013 years for Chrissake")

you melt on me like a strange evening spent with a stick of butter

*self improvement 46% complete