I am momentously bored, tediously bored, mortally bored, violently too, mind, bored. The Information Age is slinking into history, the Age of Boredom creeping in.

There's nothing more horrifying than Boredom. It's the ghost that haunts us after we've been raped by Information. Or maybe it's just me. I am overloaded with information my brain is oozing out my hair follicles. Juicy milkwhite sludge of brain matter, that, now dried and crusty and very much resembling dandruff. Blame El Nino for the stifling hot weather, but methinks my dandruff is the result of dead brain cells, just like hair and nails and other dead stuff the body produces like piss and milk and saliva and cum and so on. (Don't you just find the human body a fascinating organism? Just the anatomy of it can fill an entire library.:p) The human brain has evolved into a massive size that accommodates massive high-speed information but we only use a rat's brain size of it. It's like having a one exabyte hard drive with only 256 bytes working. All those wasted space is humming with severe depression and boredom.

I am beginning to detest science. It took me about a month before Paul Feyerabend sank his fangs deep into my cerebrum and slurped my love for science and method and critical thought. Putting the entire universe under the microscope loses all its grandeur and mystery. But does it? Science has propelled much of civilization: the evolution of guns and bombs and artillery, the evolution of machines and pointlessly alienating gadgetry, the evolution of ideas, the evolution of human lives and human perception. We have become desensitized. Religion was to the Dark Ages what Science is to ours. Science has become a dogma.

Now I keep thinking if I should burn all my science fiction books when--no. Much of science fiction is against science to begin with. What if robots take over the planet? What if time machines allow everybody to change their past? What if science has defied aging? What if all males of all species die without any explanation? What if sex suddenly leads to death? (Just like that of Decapodians.:p Why is Dr. Zoidberg still alive? Because he's a virgin. Blaharharhar.XD) What if we've evolved from squids instead of apes? Whatever the situation, exaggerating one element in SF seems to always end in catastrophe. Futurama does not, of course. Because Futurama is art, not just a cocktail of scifi and crap culture.:p

Science kills curiosity, passion, art. And after all that work and research and experimentation, you'll realize the answer is not worth the find. Then you go on solving another scientific problem. The hunger for scientific discovery is virtually limitless; the point of it all navigated by a northern star that leads to nowhere.

Good thing there's art to balance the equation. Art heightens and intensifies human perception, adding a spectrum of vivified colors to life.:p And by art I'm leaning towards literature in general. Painting and photography are boring: all you have to do is look at an image and then it's over. Music is too emotional. Sculptures, tactile, and are difficult to propagate unlike pirated movies and books and music, and requires first-hand experience. Looking at a sculpture through a photograph defeats its purpose. Film is too easy, accessible, concrete. There's nothing like words. Reading fiction is the best mental exercise; its artwork is impressed in the head such that it can never be recreated in the three-dimensions of real life. (Poetry, on the other hand, is forgettable and not a wink revolutionary.XP) Besides, reading literature kills all the boredom in the world. Reading and boredom are at the extreme opposite ends of human activity. It's all just brain activity, really. The best things in life are mental.:p

Holy neuroses, I am bored. Writing this entry is the epitome of boredomship.

I should write more often. Write snippets of my uneventful workaday.

We drove up north last weekend. Ate barbecued duck embryo dipped in vinegar.:o Was chewing half of it while studying the little duckling's entrails dangling from its stomach. It was graphically disorienting. Like picturing a manananggal flying off with her internal organs trailing behind while splattering blood on the way. Daydreamed of Mt. Arayat, now burnt black and looming on the side of the NLEX. What happened? Memories desert me. Road trips are fun; writing about it isn't.

MEN SUCK. THEY SHOULD ALL JUST DIE. (Wait. That's what I said with women.XP) Repeat Bender after me: Death to all humans!

Finished reading Shakespeare's Hamlet. It comes off as a shock. Holymotherfuck, I am that emofreak Hamlet.XD He is suicidal, schizophrenic, manic-depressive, existential, and intelligent. The only difference is that Hamlet has class and I don't.XD I have now proven to myself that Shakespeare is a genius, because I am that genius written in The Greatest Play of All Time. Wahahaha.XD Pathetic.

Word Up

f
17.02.10 - 11:29

why does this remind me of Mad Magazine?

Word did you say?

« I don't care. | Things To Do Before I Die »