Sunday, August 21, 2011


Always wanting what is not.
That is wanting / Is it not?
Crawling toward some brief vacation;
desperate for a thing to do.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011


this is something i wrote a while back. it is where the blog title came from. its kinda long; i understand if you dont give a fuck.   

“Bless me father, for I have sinned. It has been a year since my last confession and these are my sins.”
    Procedure. Just like any other day job. The confessor’s words go in and out of my ears. I am desensitized to the petty crimes this man has committed. If I have learned anything in my life it is that no one is without sin. Again, and again I hear those confessing. Different people with different lives. But sin is always there. What power does God have anymore? What is God anymore? Does he have meaning in our lives?
    He has meaning in my life. He is my job description: I am his middle man. I tell people what they want to hear. The people hear my divine words, but I’ve said them before. I’ve said them to others. People are the same, we like to believe that we can all have the same god but other people, particularly smarter people take advantage of the human need for a god and exploit it for profit. That is why the church was created.
    “For these and any sins I may have forgotten, I am truly sorry.”
    That’s my queue, the response is ingrained in me. I have repeated these words ad nauseam. They must seem absolutely robotic. First a small prayer and once again I murmur “I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.”
    “Thank you father,” the man whispers, for while the confession was difficult for him it was nothing to me. The thought plagued my mind for seconds but I realize it is now my turn to speak. 
    “Go in peace, my child.”
    I watch him step out of the confessional booth. I finish my last obligation of the day. I am ready to go home.
    I step out of the church into the cold January rain and whistle down a cab. I ask the cabby if he will permit me to have a cigarette with the window open, for a tip of course. The cabby agrees. I light the smoke and begin to think.
    How did I end up here? Why did I end up in the church? If I were to answer immediately I would say that the poverty of my youth and my Catholic upbringing brought me to the church. But I don’t feel like that is the whole story.  My youthful desire for knowledge, and longing to understand the world kept me interested in the church. Time passed and I was comfortable. But I found my thirst for knowledge couldn’t be quenched by religion. I grew to be indifferent.
    The cynicism grew within me. I hear the sins of others, day after day. No one is without sin. We are imperfect. So what is perfection? I am trained to say that God is perfect. We are made in His image but we are flawed. He is the perfection we strive for; however, studying scripture has given me other ideas. God is capable of jealousy, anger and other petty human emotions. For He is merely an extension of us. God is made in our image and not the other way around. We made him like us so that we may justify our own behavior. We rationalize our flaws and never work to correct them. Religion constrains human advancement.
    The cab pulls up to my house. The meter reads $9.23. I hand the cabby $15.00 and he speeds off. I rush to the front door escaping the pounding the rain. The lock clicks open and I enter. 
    This feeling, home, engulfs me. Such a sense of comfort. I’m quickly lost in it. The comfort is short lived however, as my thoughts come flooding back. I pour myself a glass of whiskey to stop the thinking, to stop the worrying. Only in the absence of thought do I find solace. The drink is finished and I pour another. Warmth crawls throughout my body and cleanses my mind for moments. Time passes but dilates. Seconds feel like minutes and slowly my mind overtakes the chemicals again. Familiar worried thoughts loop and replay in my head; a scratched CD that simply won’t eject. Merely worry about worrying. The original thoughts are gone entirely. Everything is and we are. We are nothing in everything. How have I digressed to these indecipherable, haunting phrases? I pick up the liquor and pour another glass.
    Morning comes, the sunlight penetrates my windows and awakening me. My head is splitting, and I grimace as I stumble into the shower. The icy water rejuvenates my body and mind. What day is it? Where am I going? What’s next?

Sunday, July 10, 2011


machine mind
input output
nothing on
your mind

Saturday, June 11, 2011

music or something

God damn, I was listening to a jam and I figured I would post a blog about it.

Something unrelated but equally amazing

Sunday, April 24, 2011


I am Michael. I intend to post things that are interesting. I do not guarantee that you will find these things interesting. I am just some dude who decided to start writing more and I figure that a blog would be a reasonable way to do that. I do not mean to be some pseudo-intellectual elitist. I know what I have to say does not matter. But I do like to think and writing is developed thought. If you are intrigued by what I say I am thrilled. If not, why did you read this far?

Without further adieu, I present this wonderful PBS documentary on fractal geometry.