Talking with the Living Dead

I meet and deal with people who do not have an original thought in their heads. Everyday I’m confronted with the same words and phrases that come out of their mouths. It takes everything within me to not outwardly cringe.

Am I actually talking to living people?

It's like talking to some artificially constructed simulacrum of a person. Am I walking amongst beings that are not fully formed?

Abominations.

I might as well be talking to a doll, it’s just that the eyes aren’t quite as dead as a doll’s.

I am surrounded by the living dead,

And there are very few exits.

Comments

Experience, Mystery, and Proof

These ramblings are my attempt to understand some things that may not be understandable, but can only be taken a position on, even if that position is that I do not understand them. Are we puppets that have been created through the accident of consciousness as Thomas Ligotti believes ? This is a belief, albeit a bleak and pessimistic one, like any other belief man creates to make sense of the meaning of his life. Atheism is a belief just like Christianity, and all of the beliefs are at odds with other beliefs because they declare truth where there is no truth to be verified except by belief or faith or dogma to be recited like some robot that has been programmed for this purpose. I'm begging you not to be a robot, which reveals that I do not side with Ligotti on his belief in a world cursed by conscious puppets. The problem with belief is that it is created by people, and people are not perfect, nor perfectly good, or very smart. Their biases creep into whatever belief they think

Hi, Old Friend. It's been a long time since we talked. Too long. I've been trying to make something out of myself, but it seems that what I've made is not what I'd intended. There was supposed to be creativity and prose involved, not business emails and revenue watching. How did this happen? Slowly at first, and then all at once. There are actual living beings dependent on me for survival, so I do what I do and my family survives- even flourishes! I don't feel like I'm flourishing. I feel like I'm jumping through other people's hoops for prizes and acceptance. I'm more comfortable financially now, probably the most comfortable I've ever been, but something had to be sacrificed for that to happen. There was a price that had to be payed. The death of a dream, maybe. You get older and you watch things fade. Eyesight. Speed. Dreams. I'm not the dreamer anymore. Now my kids are the dreamers, and I help facilitate those dreams. Bu

Morning, Glory

I wake. Breathe, breathing...Something in my throat. The alarm has not gone off, stupid alarm. 5:52 AM. I was supposed to be up at 5:40 AM - I hate that alarm clock. The baby cries, his only language streaming wireless from a tinny speaker. My heart breaks a little each time he cries. This is the "where are you?" cry. I know his different cries and this is the one of a lost child. The floor is cold. My joints are tight, tightness in my neck and shoulders. I stretch and crack and smell that I need a shower. Nice hot shower. Heaven is a nice long hot shower from which you never prune. I'd like to sleep levitated on air. I feel the fan buffeting small blows of air against my naked skin. I am naked. I need pants. Where? At the end of the bed. His cry rises in volume and in sorrow. Daddy is coming. Daddy always wants to be there for you and knows that you will fall and hurt and bleed and cry and it will be the end of the world for you, for what do you know of the world, my lit

Stars at Elbow and Foot

Search This Blog