Category: Weekly state (Page 3 of 30)

Is it the winds of change gently blowing in my face or someone farting in my general direction?

Naive I look up in the sky and expect answers and signs. Some people see things up there, I envy them. I have taken to believe in things I see. Idiotic?

I take things seriously that have no inherent importance and vice versa. That is to say, this weekly state is – and here I apologise to you my dear reader – of no importance. But seriously written by me.

Oh how it warms my heart to be seriously childish, sternly playful, concentrated on the silliness of life.

So often I try. To follow the instructions of the manual to living. Only to find out that a couple of screws are missing. And so life continues, wonky as a coffee table in the centre of some metropolis. Yet, people accept the wonky table, similar to me accepting that apparently everyone got a different manual.

By this point, you will have noticed that this weekly state follows no order, no bigger theme. It has no importance to world history, is that not a relief?

If you haven’t been silly this week, go on, start laughing. Giggle or snort, whatever tickles you internally. From feeling stupid because you force yourself to a genuine laughter. That is silliness and I am here for it. At least on this late Sunday.

Before my head disappears in the clouds I will blow some smoke for the illusion of disappearing.

I am waiting in my carton, amongst equals but somehow special. Lust has brought us here, desire will deliver us to our final destination. I am a product of nature, yet unhealthy. At some point, I will disappear completely (luckily?).

Yet here I am, in your hands. It is up to you to pursue this habit.

It makes no sense but oh the sensation is pleasant. There’s no reason, it’s pure nonsense. Yet somehow we meet again and again.

For whatever reason you have brought me here, in this very moment it does not matter. Perhaps it’s what’s supposed to happen. Perhaps it is the culture. Maybe desire? Sadness? Peer pressure?

We will not find out, you and me.

I might just be a cigarette, but is our encounter not emblematic for something larger? Am I just delusional, making myself feel special among the thousands beside me?

Will you go through with it?

I am devouring moldy cheese and no one can stop me.

While the cheese slowly untangles the endorphins I contemplate whether the longing for something attainable is more rewarding that the yearning for things never to be reached. As arrogant organisms on earth, humans have an unhealthy appetite for more, notwithstanding already being pampered.

Nutrition, worth in any sense, position. MORE.

As they do, Germans have expressed this sentiment and actively acknowledged the: seemingly intrinsic nature of humankind. Sehnsucht – the addiction to longing – yearning.

Shouldn’t they be taught a lesson by yearning for the unattainable?

Truly yearning for something involves the tragedy of not being able to achieve it. Yearning is a lesson in patience, in devotion and ultimately, acceptance.

While I am slowly being numbed by the unhealthy amounts of moldy cheese in my stomach I being to fall into a coma, a state of numbness that is a consequence of the fulfilment of my longing. No longing anymore, for the cheese, just a state of lethargy. Devoid of emotions I rethink why I was eating so much cheese.

The emotions that come and go with yearning are never the same, but always intense. Contemplating what could have happened, yearning for the moment that never was and most likely never will be. It hits, always intense but never the same.

So while my longing for cheese led me to this state of immobility, I continue to yearn. For the big things, the noble and tragic things. The small ideas and the big emotions. The alternate realities, the things I am not, the lightness of my being that sparkles somewhere.

Perhaps I should get some more cheese. I mean, who will stop me?

Hoping for a late weekly state to bring this week to an end? You’re in luck. Here it is.

As Dana is making her way through the jungle, she is regularly faced with an existential crisis. She has been crawling, climbing and walking. Staying, sleeping, staring into the void. Giving up, going on.

How long, she cannot even remember. The wise Raisin. has once told her that for every step forward, two new thoughts come to mind.

Is it better then, to just stay still? Choose a spot to settle down? How can she choose this ominous spot? Is this current one as good as any? Will she find a better or one did she already pass it? There’s three new thoughts and not even one step further. The thinking machine called brain has no downtime.

She pushes her thoughts back, at least she tries. Another climb just to come to the conclusion that what lies behind is more ground to cover.

It’s a green hell on bad days. A luscious jungle on good ones. Which of the two this last week was, you decide. She’s too tired.

And there she goes, Dana the beetle. I am wondering why she doesn’t just fly. I guess it’s all part of the adventure. As I stand up from my squat I try to calculate how long it will take for Dana to cross this meadow. How long it takes me to cross it.

Where’s my luscious jungle, is this my green hell? Another climb, another two thoughts. I guess me and Dana, we are on the way.

Somewhere Green.

I put some racing stripes on my cloud but it didn’t get faster.

Everything, since its absolute inception, is unique. Depending on the scale, of course. As humans find comfort in categorising and ordering things, they limit themselves to the level that makes comparison and fishing for similarities possible. I myself have indulged in this strategy, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to offer you a weekly state at all.

So with my magnifying glass, I am creeping up on each and every one of you, trying to see more clearly, only to find out that neither my brain nor my eyes are equipped to capture the vast amount of uniqueness the closer it get.

So how come there is this intense urge to customise? Jewellery is older than many concepts of humankind, same as for clothes, fashion and tattoos. Changing what’s on you, even the body itself. To become different, but the same?

The independence of aesthetics is a question I am too small to answer.

In the end I am by myself, holding the magnifying glass, trying to find difference. Beyond the aftermarket customisation.

Big streams of consciousness that don’t belong to anyone form the uniformity, both comforting humankind in belonging to the mainstream and making them anxious about getting lost in it. Oh what a wonderful chokehold these streams have.

But you see, I can’t wear jewellery, I can’t customise myself. I am metaphysical. But one thing – me and you – have in common. It’s the customisation of thought. Not visible from the outside, with its beauty shining only if you listen to it.

So go and come speak to me, let me get customised from your mind to mine.

And with this state, I might customise yours.

See you next week, in a different form, but the same.