So, a return after major inactivity. Yes, indeed. This time, I'm going to try and practice the Art of Hemingway. Sharp, short, tough sentences. Why not? Questions are not tough. Remove them completely. But that would mean removing the last three sentences. Fuck that. No, questions are tough. Doubt is a strength that bodes well for modesty. Should remember that line, and I'll take your head if you steal it from me. Yes, indeed.
All right now, serious writing. Though. Sharp. Short. Sentences. Maybe that should have been a sentence. Hmmm, pondering. Is pondering tough? Sharp? Pondering is most likely not short. All right all right, down to business. What did I want to write about again? Yes, conflict and dualisms.
The dualism of power and resistance. Very much a Foucault dualism. Every power generates or creates its own form of resistance. Very much like that idea. Rather than power versus weakness, it is power versus its own form of resistance, after all weakness does not challenge, confront or oppose it. Isn't that a true contradiction? Something that works against its polar opposite.
Conflict with various aspects in my life has slowly driven me mad, I suppose. Am I really mad? It's much more likely that the idea of me going mad is what appeals to me. After all, lunatics don't work with a broken beat.
But conflict is an interesting notion, isn't it? Antagonistic conflict and 'friendly' conflict. Different tones to it all the time. Am I making much sense? No, think not. Damn.
Perhaps this is all a stream of useless thoughts. You need those, you know. Useless thoughts are just as important as useful thoughts, as they operate much in the same fashion as power versus resistance. We are always working against ourselves. It's obvious; even when we can clearly see a certain action as healthy, good and beneficial for us, we often take the alternative route. Personal choice, I guess. Some of our comrades have taken the romanticism of the rebel, the nihilist and the straight up asshole way too far. But a lot of personal choice rests upon what our actions mean not only to ourselves but also to others. Relying too much on the others will create a dependent identity. We each need an independent identity; a soul to call each our own.
I must be rambling again. Yes, I am. It's late. My mind is slow. Broken down. End it with short, sharp and tough sentences. Spent most of the weekend thinking about one smile. That's what's robbing my sanity. I'll be a lunatic if this damage goes on. Keep the mind straight. Force it to work. Stare the fucker down.
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