Too much time on my hands

Hypnotic Neurotic

I’m exploring ways, methods which have been hypothesised and theorised, which have or have not been experimented or implemented, things that have not been initiated or indoctrinated.

So tick tock says grandfather time and I’ll explain them to you…

I drew plans for a Sensory Deprivation Tank, or an Isolation Tank, or a Floatation Tank; whatever you’d like to call it, I call it the Sensory Deprivation Tank. I also drew up on my board on sleep deprivation.

You see, I have a plan, a plan folks, something that might screw up.

I’ve been blogging too much about reality and metaphysics and how we perceive things differently, I will take the undeserved right to prove it to you that we all have a cloistered pseudo-reality which we all agree on, but existence itself is a whole continuum of realities, a whole hierarchy of infinites and “inabsolutes” and that we all have our own plains of existence and that even in your mind, you can have potentially the most wanderlust of which, the mind can have the capability to be explored.

You see, when I used to lock myself in my room for weeks last year, I did my best not to sleep, I explored sleep deprivation and because of that, I was an insomniac. I would literally zone-out while in my current state of conscience and just dream when I’m walking around, everything became so deviant; I saw the world in a requiem without the use of mind-alternating substances.

Everything masculine and feminine, everything indifferent and similar, everything blended into a one pure nothingness, it was then when I knew what I saw, with uncertainty and skepticism, I approached what I mentally conceived as god: everything that is and isn’t.

Now with the tank; the name of it already suggests that you deprive your senses, but deprive your senses for what?

To explore the unexplored regions of your mind; you see when you eliminate all sense of touch, smell, taste, sight and hearing, you harness more energy to expand and view your mind as though it were another world altogether, then in Freudian terminology, you find all your repressed thoughts, everything you know and unconsciously know, becomes clearer to you.

With the words of Blaise Pascal, “I think therefore I am”; I’d say, “I thought therefore I’m not.”

Brian BollandThe Jesus.

Cardiovascular Vaseline

Life is a great big ridiculous joke and death is the punch line.

I drew plans up for a sensory deprivation tank, wheeheehee, where am I going to find the money to fund that?

I wrote my own theory to the physical stumper of Maxwell’s Little Demon: His hypothetical “creature” acting as a gatekeeper that sorts out different gas particles can be a programmed filter, like the general idea of a coin changing machine, but I don’t want to go into detail here.

I’m slowly abandoning my ambition to work in an Intelligence Agency and may decide to take philosophy and physics as my majors in college. I may even want to go back to college for a second PhD, but I’ll just see where I end up after A levels first.

I have observed the political world and found that all hope for socialism, even with the attempts of new American President Barack Obama, is still lost and has become a wandering entity in my aspirations and a lost concept in the book of politics, so screw liberalism.

For the fun of it, I want to have a a parody campaign that goes against the vegans for the cruelty to vegetables.

I want to publish all my current drafts and manuscripts and hope that people would read them and I can get paid for being Marc Ashley, get marketed as a personality and change millions of worthless lives, have haters stalking me while I walk my dog and have people lined up for my autographs and have me reject them and in turn, force them to form a separatist version of the former group and try to assassinate me instead.

I do hope that people understand that sometimes I feel my personal life (except for certain events and on-goings) is too boring and meaningless to be blogged about, like I’ve once typed: So much for the gory details of my adolescence.

I have abandoned the idea of reality altogether and have tried to even my perceptions in my own mindset.

I want to make all the money in the world and burn it in front of everyone! Quoting Heath Ledger’s Joker in Dark Knight: “it’s not about money, it’s about sending out the message: everything burns”

Thus I conclude: Everything we have now must be destroyed, then we’d know how much of the world is meant to be forgotten, out of this destruction, we have to find a means to create a subjective world that fits our ideals and with the knowledge we’ve thus gathered, we might be able not to fuck up this time round; quoting Palahniuk: “here we are the pilgrims, the crackpots of our time trying to establish our own alternate reality… to create a world out of rocks and chaos…”

Diabolical Dionysian Dogmatic Diorama

I’ve learnt to die, thus, all my remaining living, I’ll try make it subjectively meaningful.

I have a taste for aesthetic art, I wish I could draw, then maybe I could make something out of my mind.

I want to visit every corner of this planet just so I could die with at least a smile on my god damned face.

I want to stand on the edge of humanity and laugh at their pitiful woes. Then have them laugh at mine. i started a joke…

I want to lie on the sidewalk with just my jeans, jacket, boots and cap on, reeking of alcohol and marijuana with “let’s bring the 80’s back again, then kill ourselves” painted across my chest. I want to do this in every country I go to.

I want to wear my miseries like a smile across my face and tell everyone that they’re too serious about making money and having children.

I want to wave my middle finger to the world and see who wants to join me in insanity.

I want to get caught for doing inhumane scientific experiments which might eventually do the world some use and get institutionalised for it.

I want to get strapped in a straightjacket and urinate on all governmental propaganda while screaming “I just farted!”

I want the words “Who cares anyway? All you had worked for in life was for this one moment; at least if you didn’t have a good life, have a good death. Marc died in vein of GG Allin, and others like him.” written on my tombstone.

Anti Life Theory

First up, you have to know that the following is meant for parody purposes only, in fact, if you’re going to be a lifeless cock-sniffer who ideally goes about saying shit about people and can’t take a joke, stop here and go surf internet porn.

The ninth of August sparked many questions to Singaporeans as to when the whole routine of fireworks, jet planes, paratroopers and lame dance antics would stop and when a real parade would take place where everyone is free to view live just like the Chingay festival, hey wait, don’t we have to pay to view that live too?

It also made the Singapore government wonder with the crowd flow, there should be human ERP gantries set up to tax pedestrians coming in and out of the CDB and Town areas. Calling it HERPies. *edited 14/8/09*

And finally, Singapore hopes for a non-Chinese Prime Minister, and a non-Malay Singapore idol in the coming years.

So happy irrational day folks, I think I’ll be put on trial next week for defaming the nation, but, really, I don’t mean it, well I’m dead.

Cranium Compressor

I guess I go around like I’ve got something to prove, but I really don’t know what I have to prove.

It’s either that or I just can’t find any meaning in life.

It’s not that I feel emotional or anything, I just look at it like that, I’m sick of people telling me there’s a heaven to go to when I die, or that we’ll turn into phantoms, I’m sick of it, because the way I see it, it’s their pitiful excuse for their sorry little meaningless lives.

My excuse for my own sorry meaningless life?

Don’t have one, don’t really care. I’ve started dying the day I was born, just like you, I’m trying to find my own reason to life, just like you, you and I are worthless, pathetic people with nothing special to offer the world but decomposition.