Nociceptors

It shouldn’t be that hard to simply let the fear go, whatever it is that you fear it will always come at you sooner or later, whereas the fear will not exist if you replace it with indifference. My former fear of spiders was pretty irrational, as they’d never done anything to me. It was their unusual leg arrangements and fat behinds which distinguished them from insects. I’ve never thought spiders were cute; they more reminded me of evil women, crack whores and other femme fatales.
I’ve read that arachnophobia is abnormal and can only be explained by a human’s instinctive reaction to danger. What danger? Unusual ugliness with eight legs?
As a crab, I have eight less, too, which makes me an arthropod. I undergo molting in order to keep growing, molt my exoskeleton and eat it while mourning over it. The past doesn’t digest well…

Do you ever wonder what it’d be like being an arthropod with no nociceptors? I would like to know for at least a day and then decide whether it’s worth being a mammal. Maybe we’re better of with only physical sensations: hunger, thirst and sex drive. What more do we need? Why do we have to talk and be plagued by pain that constantly needs expression? A centipede would merely keep crawling and a spider weaving. You’d never get the feeling that you’re wasting away and if so, it just happens, no last thoughts, no feelings whatsoever.

To be human, I see no purpose other than to create. The standard human pattern that you follow, if uncreative, is not of my interest.
You create in order to de-clutter the shit that you were born with. This is the purpose of our lives.
We are born and this is who we are. People never change. Some people are born with more deep thoughts than the others – let’s call them artists, artists burning to express these thoughts, but unable to share it with anyone even if he wanted to. Artists don’t have it easy. You find an artist working part or full time in a bar, a restaurant or in retail. Throughout the day they dedicate their efforts to nothing in order to pay for rent and food. Only in the middle of the night this creative energy unravels his pain, anger and recklessness triggered by his views on the unevolved world. These artists, let me tell you, are angry for good altruistic reason. They long for truth and they know the truth. And yet the world turns its back on them. So the artist dedicates his life to opening your fucking eyes. See Bill Hicks, see Alec Empire, and listen to all suppressed voices, but does the majority care? Of course not. Whatever you say, it’ll fall on deaf ears.
This walking ignorance with no ears or eyes, but feet that conform to the marsh of others…

My fear of red tartan patterns, however, wasn’t as irrational. When that big fat man in the tartan suit stood beside my bed at 5 in the morning, I jumped. But instead of harassing me, he slowly floated into the ceiling. How could one’s imagination hurt anyone? Nonetheless, tartan patterns still hurt my eyes.

Why would you say I’m special as I am not? Can’t you just give me a feeling I’m worth being faithful to and we’ll leave it at that? As long as someone is being cheated on he or she is not special in any way. Got that?

Recently my dreams have been coming in broken fragments. Have you ever had that before? It’s as if you can’t live life quickly enough. There is not one moment that seems to last. And it’s very sad, I know. It’s the dynamic of London town to which my mind and body have adjusted to. It’s very sad, I know.
Sometimes I close my eyes and I see a bid grey screen and think of classic black and white movies with Lugosi. I prefer dreams like that to broken fragments.

I envy those who love this city and its dynamics. This is where you see that everyone lives his life their way. I envy your way, your happiness, luck and all, but furthermore, a lot of you deserve it. Therefore I am not saying anything. I am a nice person. I know that people deserve what they deserve.

I discovered the art of not eating after 6pm, no matter what your bed time is. But then again each digestive system, each bowel has a different pace. It depends on how balanced your mind and body is. I know all this.

Why I feel so low I have no idea. In the true sense of the word. Nine. Is the highest alone standing number and I am it. Think about it. The highest. Invincible.
I think I was made on my parents wedding night and it was autumn. They have planned me well; I was to be born in the year of the wood rat. Wood rats have a very bad temper, so look at me. You don’t know me. You will never know me as a person.

You hear so many fucking sirens on Saturday nights, why? It’s nothing but alcohol. I hate the effect of alcohol in other people’s veins. I hate it with all my heart. But right now what I hate most is Ian Curtis, the liar, the cheater. I hate the song Atmosphere, I hate it. Yes, it used to be my favourite Joy Divison song. But he lied. He walked away… in silence. Big big time. You don’t tell others to do what you won’t. Little coward piece of shit.

Here you are listening to me complaining about the heat. Above 15°C oh my…
You hate that and during winter I was listening to you complain about the cold. If only you knew how hot it really is. We’ve been walking for so many years, have you not warmed up yet? Are you seriously that cold? My condolences.
I constantly find myself walking fast, but where to? Not important.

You follow your passion, you follow your desire. But don’t follow people.
The more you know that they’re there, the more translucent your own being becomes. I don’t know if it makes sense to you, but it makes sense to me. And I wish it wouldn’t.
It’s ok to believe in God, just don’t hold the Bible to your heart.

What am I talking about? I’m empty like a shoe box.
I blame the Nociceptors. I blame them.

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