Night times

I was hoping to have my next blog entry broken up by photos and I have heaps of them ready but a friend has the cable and so I can't take them from my camera just yet. So, in a desperate attempt to not lose momentum this blog entry will be another all - text one.

People do not know what they want, I think maybe it could be that we are all afraid of what we want or that what we want is 'wrong' and so we don't stop wanting it but instead just deny that we want it. Which brings us to an interesting situation... when we pretend not to desire something we have to pretend to desire something else. This blurs the line between reality and fiction; and how do we know what we want if we really don't want it? I think we have to take our cues from somewhere or someone else.

For example, somebody seems to be doing really well wanting a full- time job that is not nessecarily fulfilling but it pays the bills as well as a weekend of excesses. He is able to work this job with minimal stress and has even been promoted. Now, you, on the other hand, don't want a full- time job. You think you want to do something creative and different to change people's minds and hearts while retaining your soul. You really want to be brilliant. Mr Jobs (as we will call him) seems to be achieving some form of brilliance, at least on the weekends, if nowhere else. He has enough money to treat his social inadequacy with drugs and alchohol and seems to be unaffected by it, I mean, his work is not a place that demands integrity. What is it that you want? Brilliance. Who says what brilliance is? The answer is simply other people, they weigh your worth. Mr Jobs is your new standard of brilliance and so you begin to take cues from him without actually realising that he does not share your desires to maintain the goodness of his heart and purity of character. You sold yourself short for a cheaper dream imagined in the mind of bang gangers and junkies.

I don't think I came to a point but I rarely do, writing can only reflect life and right now my life serves little purpose other than capitalist waste and consumption. With all our false wants and confused ideas we career through an oblivious existence to an obvious end.