Progress

Along the same lines as the previous post, I am still thinking about the meaning of the western society's concept of progress and the reference points the define it. Progress itself is a reference point defined by previous reference points that form a matrix of points and lines. This matrix has somehow become the web of life in society today. We are constantly comparing and being compared to other things, other persons, other perspectives and losing our own sense of unity and control in the process. The concept of progress is forced upon us as children, relatives pointing out key points in our developement , deciding if we are good or bad children by the way they see good and bad. They force their perspectives upon us and try to mold us into what they consider best for the position in society they wish for us to take. This concept is a cage, a fundemental wall to which they put us in and against. As adults the feeling of satisfaction and self worth is goverened by this restriction. "I am suceeding in life because I have a good job, I am making alot money and I am living legally" This is one of several variations to the same statement I hear constantly. The ideas are purely in reference to the society's concept of what a good job, alot of money, and legally is. Does this take in consideration the personal goals of that person, that they might have had should they live without being forced to take the perspective of the western ideal? no, it simple is the way they are raised not their own choosing. Even if one is to abandon the ideal of the western philosophy after years of living within it, there is a feeling of doubt and general unworth or dissatisfaction. It's a deep rooted concept that will probably lead to the demise of the society at some point when the point is hit that we can no longer progress further, we have expended our resources and mental reserves. This is perhaps too sever of a view but it is the one I myself think of at this moment in time. The restrictions in the system leave me frustrated with the fact that publically I have no control of what I am defined as, its not my thoughts or feelings that define me to others but their view of me. I guess this is just how it is.... ah well my rant is over for the day, back to drinking my tea.

Preception of Life's Worth

Now before I continue I will make this as clear as possible to those that don't understand the purpose of entries such as these. I am NOT suicidal anymore, I am NOT out to injure myself, and I am NOT merely writing this to depress the reader or myself, this is merely an observation, question and general thought that was in my mind tonight. Read into the question not the current state of my sanity, humans bearly know themselves let alone others so no need to worry, thankyou.

I have been thinking along the lines of the human condition as a whole lately. The way that humans are generally pack animals and operate from a utilitarian point of view (greatest good for the greatest number of people). The loss of a individual berely makes a ripple in the whole, most of the planet won't even know you exist even on the smallest stage. Your primary relations will of course "miss" you but in the long run even in that circle your name will be forgotten eventually or pushed back so far in the minds that you are almost forgotten.

This concept has always held a certain duality to it for me. On one hand I dispise most human contact ...well despise is a bit harsh but I resent it. Strictly for the self interest that humans interact upon, human relations are nothing more than a network of dependency and need in one respect (dont worry I know the upsides there coming so keep the pesimistic quarrelling till after). I resent it not for the way others proceed but the way I myself proceed, it troubles me how I get close to some people out of dependancy instead of true desire to be near that person. "I need you..." "stay with me" "dont leave me alone" we've all said it , we all both love and hate saying it. It shows vunerability and that need to be with other people. Loneliness is the human condition, even in the most close nit of relationships there still lays some hidden knowledge unshared, a lingering feeling of not being understood and the lack of understanding in your own actions. It's like having an invisible barrier that protects you from others and yourself. I know how destructive it can be for me to be left to my thoughts at times, they are lingering memories melding with hidden fears that I have yet to realise. A terrifying thought I must say.

However there is that hidden silver linning, forgive the cliche. The silver linning for me has always been, does it really matter? Does the fact that I myself will cease to exist today as the know form I now identify as me really honestly matter in the scope of my exists? the answer is simple, it does not. The reason it doesn't because like reality, definitions of worth are completely subjective and perspective based. If you ask someone if you matter you will get several different oppinions, well if they bother to truely answer the question honestly, and it's with those individual perspectives a whole is created. For instance , there is the life you live that you precieve, the life you live that your siblings preceive and the life you live your lover preceives and the life you live a stranger preceives. Neither are the true you nor the fake you because reality is comprised of all of these. The same principle applies to the concept of that life's worth. My life has worthe because I say it does and for as long as I exist that statement holds true for me. After I'm dead and dust , those that are left can conceive and precieve what they wish because I will not be here to dispute or care.

It's this conflict of opinnion within that creates myself I guess, the feeling of self assurance and the human condition to be part of the whole. This is just tonight's thought on the matter, a simple rambling of mental consciousness, I have much more refined thoughts on the matter but do not wish to portray them this moment. Ask you're own questions and see what stirs beneath ....

The endless clock

The tick of the endless clock that is the heart of the world is echoing my in weary ears. Dawn after darkness comes to me time and time again signalling the birth of one day , the death of another. Why do we dance upon the thin wire that is life to the beat that time provides us. Ever will that confuse me, torment me and define me. The hovering shadow that is time, the shackle on the chain that we as humanity are forever bound. Such odd thoughts fill my mind this night.

In My Time Of Need

The flight in the darkness is a lonely one, freedom does not come without a price as I have said. The weight of my loneliness drags on my aloft body. Only the darkness and her image keeps me moving forward. The path I walk is far from the mass horde of mind washed creatures that still walk the viens of the decaying body of the long dead god. When my wings fail me and I fall to the solid ground. The cold solid ground. she comes to me, in my time of need in my time of loss of purpose and joy. I don't mean to sound as if I some entwined man haunting this woman but her kindness touched me in ways no healing could. Perhaps I shall make it to my destination my unknown soul's direction. Stay with me in this time ...

Ergo ...Therefore what?

An end undefined except defined as a conclusion. The sentence unfinished, the purpose lost, and freedom gained. This is what I consider the world I have come to reside within. The tunnel beneath the flesh of the decaying god that bound this realm within me has given way to free boundless sky. The plummet is eminent, the darkness breaking through to light and emptiness but at what the cost. The cost is in itself assurity, destiny, fate, the knowledge that no matter what you do the path you walk is predefined. This is the cost, though some claim to be ready to proceed are truly shaking within themselves at the thought they may need to trend within the jungle of the universe and cut their own path. They fear to sprout their wings and carrying their own souls to a place of boundless choice and consiquences we can not blame upon a creator or god but our own soul.

Well I feel the warm enticing trickle of crimson upon the flesh of my back as my wings do sprout, nothing comes without sacrifice and my past is my offering. May it burn with the memory of the dead and fading for they are a shackle upon my conscious. My feet leave the pulsing ground of this decaying flesh and I reach the darkening skies, who will join me in the awaiting world and dream?

Another halloween

Ghouls and goblins walk the street and laughter fills the air. Well that is the idea anyway. It's interesting the thoughts I have when watchig the goings on of the world. I always wonder if the costumes we pick represent our inner self or is it what we want it to be. Also the idea that those without costumes are suddenly the odd ones, the normal people are the outcasts for this one day. Guess I should feel more at home during halloween.

It's also said that halloween is the one day that if you pray hard enough and repent long enough those trapped in purgatory may find their way to heaven. Something tells me no matter how much I pray I'll escape this purgatory, not that I will ever pray for an escape. Dispite it's short comings the world I have made for myself isn't all bad, death may be an escape , and end that will trigger a beginning but all comes in due time. I will see what this place, this world has in store for the lost soul I possess.

What is Art?

The age old question and really I'm getting tired of it personally. No one seems to agree and makes the same arguement that has been going on for ages. Recently I had my "art" teacher tell me illustration was not art and that abstraction is a purer form of art. Frankly I was insulted that she completely dismissed a whole sector of people doing what I would consider some amazing works of art. I'm still trying to get my head around what she thinks gives her the devine insight to define art for others. As far as my concern I think art is better undefined if nothing gets done but demeaning others and passing them over because they don't cater to the abstract or realist tastes. Anyway I shall rant again later

I think therefore I am

That is such a convient saying and so odd that it comes from someone who thought there was a evil genius at work in the world and it's day to day chores. Is the idea of self, the concept of being so easily defined simply by thinking. The rational mind is the key to existance? Some how I find myself at conflict with this idea. Especially since the idea of self is a preception, since preception of reality starts with viewing the world around us perhaps the correct method of using the rational mind is "I think therefore you are" as suggested in the series "Ergo proxy". The concept makes a bit more sense if you look at it from that standpoint, you can precieve others but can you truely preceive yourself? What you see you define as real therefore it exists but when it comes to precieving yourself you make judgements and create identy through what you believe to be true about yourself. It's like hearing your voice recorded, when you first hear it , you deny that it how your voice sounds, the idea that it sounds different from what you believe it to is a disturbing thought. It's a shaking of your identy, your concept of self.

On the other hand do we need rational thought at all to define ourselves as real , that we belong in this world that we feel. Feeling, emotion, the sound and touch of the rain on your skin, is this not enough to define myself as real. The only thing that stabalizes that feeling of losing self and of nonexistance is the memory of being held, the memory of touching the cold earth with my bare feet. This is Real to me, the world I interact with , perhaps it is not one but all of these things that makes the concept of reality true. I don't have the answer for another or myself, I just have more questions but questions I shall seek to answer in due time. So much more thinking to be done...

Dreaded October

Such a damn depressing month, october, the dreaded hated space of time that is such a burden on my mind and soul. Lost dream, memories and the blood of friends staining the very fabric of my being.

So many lost through the years and all upon the month of my birth and like a true libra, the balance was maintained. A happiness of birth balanced with the loss of life. The great balance, the great joke that fate plays upon the living. Nothing to excess they say to save the soul, perhaps we are damned either way.

I guess my feelings towards this month are the same. It's a month of death and decay, the transition from sunny days full of life to that of winter cold and a cleansing of the world around me till it's crystal white. It's strange despite my distaste for the events that happen within this time, I enjoy this time of year the most. I enjoy the silence, the dark and raining landscape. The wilting world of shadowy brilliance. Perhaps if I could capture the essense of the visions within the construct of a canvas frame I would feel alittle more distance from the trace I find myself in when I stare at it.

I still find myself watching through the window during the day, just staring at it, as if I staring at my reflection in the shattered peices of a mirror. Trying desprately to see the entire image. Perhaps someday I will understand what calls to my core in this landscape till then I shall enjoy the view and the darkness...

The Week To Come...

So much work and school work to do, I am not sure how much i will be posting on here this week but I shall try to keep at it. Art school is a fickle thing and with my mind wandering to the many thoughts that slumber within me, I have a hard time focusing some time. Not to mention the classes bore me to tears, ah well thus is the way of the schooling world. It also seems a few people who are close to me are going through a rough time right now and I will be focusing my attention on them since there are very few that I would consider friends these days. Please be paitent with me and feel free to email me if you need me I am around sooner or later.

Into the Darkness

What can I call the place I drown in when I am balancing unsteadily upon the edge of life and

death. 5 times now I have seen this place, this dark room, this lightless room. 3 were of my own making , 2 by accident. This place is endless, boundless yet confining like a coffin. No light yet shadows dance wearingly upon the walls and around my body. Twisting vicious shadows, memories of loathing nature that still cling to make unconscious minds. Sounveniers of a life lived for the past, there to forever remind me of my own short comings. This dark place, is hell or just the mind's construct I built for myself, perhaps they are one in the same. Moments seem like years, years spread out before me, the path long the way before me shrouded. Slowly the clock begins to move, the light comes in wavering streams. Reality comes full force like having a shroud pulled from my head. Surviving yet again but alittle less of my conscious here. I wonder how many times I can survive this place and return. What happens when the dream is more real then the waking world?

A Start.

Ah yes, before I forget I should tell you who I am.
Hmm where to start... My name is Joshua , though most call me daimien or hellstorm these days. I'm a 3rd year art major minoring in graphic design at algomau and 20 years old. I live in a small city in Canada which I have no complaints about. I like small places where I can hear myself think. The location I live specifically is much to my liking, I live on the beach in the forest about 30 minutes out of town. Its quite and the city can be seen in the distance.

As for myself as a person there is both little and alot to say depending on the topic. I write poetry, stories, paint, do photography, and draw alot. The subject matter varies from almost complete abstraction to lifelike but the themes of death and identy run deep in almost all of them due to my interest in it.

Death has always been a big part of my life, the lose of loved ones, friend and family alike. Seeing death with my own two eyes more times then I would like to recount. It had a large effect on me as a child so I explore it in hopes of finding about myself in the process. Identy is something that I think all humans deal with in some manner or another, the feeling of trying to etch out my own future and trying to understand the paths I have already taken. What makes me human, what makes me myself, how do I know that I am who I think I am, why do I think the way I do, do I even exist? these questions plague my mind. Perhaps I am far to into the ideas of self but it is my nature I guess if you could call it that. I shall walk this path we call the world around us and write my findings here I guess and the day to day things I find interesting.

Feel free to check the links on the previous post for my art and poetry. One specific poem I shall share is the one that spawn the name for this blog, it was written back during highschool more or less around the depth of a low point. Though it may seem depressing it's about hope really, the acceptance of a self destructive nature and the will to move past it.

(Pic of me back when I wrote this)

Ebony Gates Of Depression
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've seen a hundred beginnings

And felt a thousand ends

Just when you think your defenses are holding

The seems of your world begin to bend

What is even left to defend?



A bottle of pills makes the pain go away

Small companions for bloody razorblades

Black clouds cover every single day

Signs of hope readily fade away

This hole is deep and has no name



Let me through these ebony gates of depression

Through these black gates of stone

My heart beats for this decision

Within these pillars you will never feel alone

So step into the unknown



This world strangles me till my eyes turn blue

It beats me till I can not see

Pushes each blade to cut right through

I don't care let it be

I'm almost free



So let me through these ebony gates of depression

Through these black gates of stone

Will the emptiness hear my confession

Because I never wanted to be alone

As I step into the unknown

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**copyright 2004, Joshua Richards**



More to come another day perhaps, time has run out for me this day....

Another beginning...

Hello there, it seems I have yet again made another site, and another beginning in this world of digital madness. I guess it will give me something to do on those late nights. I have been meaning to make a blog for a long time and thankfully got the push I needed from a wonderful young woman I met a week ago or so on facebook. Please stop by her site sometime ( http://www.indulge-angel.blogspot.com/ ).

Some of my other sites are :

www.poetrypoem.com/hellstorm6514

http://www.hellstorm6514.deviantart.com/

www.geocities.com/hellstorm6510.htm