dis yaer i spned it liek othar yaers.
ridin thee astrul pliane on mi charyiot of bonez wit mi wief winoona
se dat luk in hre i's? dat luk liek "dis is weerd u nut recugnicening dat no ohtar humins dunt exhist foar mi dat arint kinn."
wi stil gut albams frum dis yaer nad othar yaers tu lissen.
wi lisen tu forgjord, stil huvint herd dat hoel albam.
wi nut liek sum kidz woh cnat wiat foar musejick. we lisen wen it raedy, wi dunt waset tiem pining aftar albam dat isunt maed yit.
dis is winoona blancly consniderun da emptines of da voide nad da coreispondning holowniss in da eternul wound dat is da self.
whi i show her off in publeich i dunt knoaw. aniwey u cnuts onli distrectshun frum our eeturnal scilance.
wi tellypathhiclee communeikate on teh astrul paline.
i menshun dat:
When the void itself seems too ponderous or impure, we run
helter-skelter towards a nudity beyond any conceivable form of
space, while the last instant of time coalesces with the first, and
disappears in it.
*
Let us relieve awareness of everything it contains, of all the
universes it drags in tow, let us purge it along with perception, let
us restrict ourselves to white, forgetting all colors but the one that
denies them. What peace prevails immediately one has annulled
diversity, immediately one escapes the calvary of nuance and is
swallowed up in the Unvariegatedl Awareness as pure form, then
the very absence of awareness.
The void is nothingness stripped of its negative attributes,
nothingness transfigured. Once we have tasted it, our relations
with the world are thereby modified, something in us changes;
although we remain our fallible selves, we no longer belong here
in precisely the same way as before. That is why having recourse
to the void during temper tantrums can prove salutary;
our worst impulses are blunted on contact with it. For lack of it,
who knows? we might now be languishing in prison or in some
padded cell. Furthermore the lesson in abdication which it offers
invites us to deal with our enemies, our slanderers, from a more
strategic vantage point. Shall we kill them, or spare them? Which
is more damaging, more painful: vengeance or triumph over
vengeance? Where does one draw the line? In our uncertainty, let
us prefer the agony of not avenging ourselves.
That is the ultimate concession one can make, short of being a
saint.
Only he who finds himself oppressed by the universality of
anguish is ripe for deliverance..
To discover that all things lack foundation and continue to
exist is only an apparent inconsistency: carried to an extreme,
perception of the void tallies with perception of the all, it amounts
to entrance into the all. One begins at last to see; done with
groping, one is reassured, bolstered. If there exists some chance
of salvation outside faith, it must be sought in the faculty of enriching
oneself on contact with unreality.
Even if the experiment of the void were a mere hoax, it would
still be worth trying. What it proposes, what it attempts to do, is
annihilate death and life with the single aim of making them
tolerable. If it succeeds on occasion, what more can we ask? Without
it, there is no remedy to the illness of being, no hope of recovering,
if only for brief instants, the primeval bliss, the light of
pure anteriority.
no werds ar kneedead. teh cahryhot ridez tuwrads nothningnass as our embarce disoleves intu blak.