07/27/12 Thoughtful.Meditative Mix

This is a thoughtful and meditative mix I recorded.

http://soundcloud.com/thegoldendove/07-27-12 

Honesty

     I find I have a difficult time believing in anything. And not just in religion, for religion is not the only thing requiring belief. It wasn't always this way with me. And it isn't new. I do wonder though, how often this occurs in others around me. I find that many people seem to be able to believe in all sorts of things. I also find them unable to believe in particular things, betraying their injuries and tendencies. I on the other hand simply process. I don't believe in anything, instead I place hope in my inclinations and ignorance. This isn't an ideal; it's simply what I've become, having broken down belief after belief throughout the years of my life. I destroy, but not like one might think. In Cormac McCarthy's "Blood Meridian," the devil carries around a journal and records each thing that he encounters on his travels, birds, pieces of armor, and so on. One night, a travel companion asks him why he does this. The devil replies that he is insulted by the freedom of birds, that they fly without his permission. By recording, by knowing, each thing that exists, he will be able to control all existence. Birds will no longer fly without his permission. For me, nothing is able to come before me without being understood. I don't see things for the sake of any ideals, they instead are seen for the ideals that they hold at the same time as they are seen for what they are within this world. I destroy, rather than control. I'm not insulted by the freedoms of the ignorant, I instead hold only to honesty. And in truth, I hope for things that I can't destroy. I'd like for things to come up against honesty and not be destroyed. And when I do discover things that aren't destroyed, I'm able to love them because I know they are something worth loving. I'm able to love them honestly, which isn't to adore them, but to know them, honestly. This is what I've become; belief has yet to endure honesty.

Piece

     ,Well, what is it?'

     ,I don't feel satisfied with the trees here. There really isn't any need to be in between these bodies. Their eyes are uncomfortable pillows and I'd quite like to sleep in the street.'

     ,Speak up. Out with it.'

     ,I rather like these spaces though. I push my finger into them and fill them, inflate them. I move into these spaces in between things and in things and it changes them. Nothing really is against me then; nothing is without me when I fill their spaces.'

     ,If you're not going to say anything, then why are you here?'

     ,I'd really like to be my own father. I've tried to revolve myself through death and birth by myself in my own blood, but I'm not really sure how that's going.'

     ,Look, you're really starting to piss me off. If you're going to simply sit there silently, then fuck off.'

     ,I don't believe in freedom and so I don't value it. I find it unfortunate that Americans prize it more than almost anything. They see the alternative as a Nazi regime or men from the Middle East stoning a woman in the street for being raped, but that's a false dichotomy. What people want isn't freedom. It's security and truth that they want, safety in in being and existing as what they are, what they could potentially be. Well, there are things I'm against people being, like being intolerant of people I find to be innocent. I also don't want people believing that they're free, that freedom is something we have, because it harvests a people without position, though they believe that they have position. They simply become infinitely manipulable.'

     ,If you don't say something or leave, you'll regret it.'

     ,I wish I could believe in God sometimes.'

     ,Fine. Choose to be silent and motionless.'

     And he struck him. He grabbed a limb from off the shelf and with both arms he slammed it into the side of his face. He was lying against the ground in a fit of apprehension, in ecstasy and fear, and all was boundless, limitless. There were no walls, simply terror and resolve. These two filled the room like lovers. And he beat him. And the firecracker popped. And the child giggled.

     The water rushed over the stone. It was lodged into a crack between things, but the water didn't mind so much. And the rock didn't mind very much either, as it was prone to indifference. What did happen though, each time water passed across the rock, which was continuous, each time accumulating into a desert, long and indifferent, was a production of friction, long and indifferent. And it went like that for quite some time.

     And he became a radiator. When he spoke, it didn't feel warm, but it reminded people that they were. And you would think that the man was still striking him with the limb, but the blows rattling him were in fact happening deep underground. And you couldn't see the eyes peering out, but you felt the discomfort all the same. And all around them, people didn't touch one another. They in fact denied the inclination three times each at least, and then kept going until it dissolved completely and evenly. And they all lay on the ground in fits of apprehension, without ecstasy or fear, and all was bound. And the water rushed over them, accumulating into a desert, long and indifferent, for quite some time.

     Stretching out a hand in a fashion that never goes out of style. From time immemorial, did you know that you should be thankful? He reaches out from behind bulletproof glass near a dumpster. Put yourself in this box, didn't you know that you should be thankful? And he beat him. And he didn't touch him.

     They're in their boxes looking far away. Still, don't get too close; they are on display. We have your childhood, hold still. Stay. For quite some time, we'll let you be kept here and afterward you can remember where we let you look far away. Right here; but don't get too close. Do not touch. We'll keep you here safely on display. You can have images to remind you where you lay. And he beat him. And he didn't touch him.

     I can measure my life in coffee spoons. Zero is immense. A diamond is forever. Accept loss forever. Hold it there, that spot in your metaphysic. Remain nowhere. Let the friction shape you, lodged between things, for quite some time. And he beat him. And he didn't touch him.

     Let yourself feel it momentarily, as the image burns by. It felt warm, but not because of what it said. You had to keep warm, regardless of what it said. And everything remained still, for a very long time. And he beat him. And he didn't touch him.

     And there was cheap gold imitation framing every view. Wind blew through the trees in the backgrounds and it was crisp, but each view was framed in cheap, faux-Victorian, golden-delicious, flaking imitation. And it tasted like dust. And he remained. And he didn't touch him.

     Every space was filled, except for the lines. The lines were white on a white wall. Everything that filled all else was accumulated, like a desert, for the lines, so that there were lines, so that there could be lines. Each time a water passed over, a moment accumulated on this wall, accumulated for the sake of white lines on white walls. And he remained. And he didn't touch him.

     And she was ornate and still. All that was built around her was designed to move without moving. And there were colors and designs and textures and messages, but what they said only reminded you that you should be warm. And you couldn't see the eyes peering out, but you felt the discomfort all the same. And he tasted dust. And nobody touched.

07/23/12 A&C Mix

     New mix. This isn't like the previous mixes that I've posted recently. I categorize those as "Halcyon" mixes. This mix is what I categorize as an "Anorexia & Cigarettes" mix. It's essentially coldwave and minimal electronic. And this mix in particular is somewhat personal. Let's just say, I've had an inclination to reread 'The Myth of Sisyphus' by Camus lately.

http://soundcloud.com/thegoldendove/07-23-12

Reflection On An Excerpt From "Being And Time" by Martin Heidegger

     "Theology is seeking a more primordial interpretation of man's Being towards God, prescribed by the meaning of faith itself and remaining within it. It is slowly beginning to understand once more Luther's insight that the 'foundation' on which its system of dogma rests has not arisen from an inquiry in which faith is primary, and that conceptually this 'foundation' not only is inadequate for the problematic of theology, but conceals and distorts it." - Heidegger


     Theology is an investigative venture into understanding our 'towards God' entity. This is necessarily simultaneously an 'investigative' entity if theology is necessary of a 'towards God' entity, and so either the theologian is not of the 'towards God' entity or the 'towards God' entity is investigative. So therefore, either the theologian's Being towards God is not actually towards God (concealed and distorted) because theology is necessary of the Being towards God, but is not of the nature of the entity that is towards God, or the theologian's Being towards God is necessary of a Being towards God. Faith, though, isn't investigative and if theological pursuit is to be founded upon understanding what the nature of the man who is faithful, the Being towards God, then to be theological and be the Being towards God, faith must be investigative, but it isn't. Theology isn't towards God, dogma is not towards God, the concept of God is not towards God, God is not towards God. Faith never meant to be towards God. God turned around and claimed it, but that God was investigation and investigation was the pursuit of the man who's Being wasn't actually towards God. God has always been an incident of the investigation by one's Being.