I'm Ok. You're Ok
Things I am currently and actively researching/interested in: Singularity, Revolution, Virtual Reality, Electronic Paper, Communal Living, Subjective Idealism, Ahimsa, Jainism, Dadaism, Anti-Folk, Sam and Max, Chess, Hip-Hop, Veganism, Nutrition, Corporatism, and Sustainable Investment.
Frequently visited sites:
a RAW Foods and Vegan lifestyle website
While some use marijuana, pain pills, alcohol and other illicit drugs as crutches, I use God as mine. Both, I believe, are legitimate crutches to use, for both crutches seek the same things: peace, happiness and rest.
crutches help people walk - I hate when people use crutch as a sign of weakness, they are just tools, like hammers, nails, and crucifixes.
it all depends on how you use them.
![A phosphene is an entoptic phenomenon characterized by the experience of seeing light without light actually entering the eye. The word phosphene comes from the Greek words phos (light) and phainein (to show).[1] Phosphenes can be directly induced by mechanical, electrical, or magnetic stimulation of the retina or visual cortex as well as by random firing of cells in the visual system. Phosphenes have also been reported by meditators,[2] people who go for long periods without visual stimulation (also known as the prisoner’s cinema) or who are under the influence of drugs, especially a hallucinogen.](http://17.media.tumblr.com/P8IXBolt7pi8mr3acMYIqs4Uo1_500.gif)
Buffy Sainte-Marie - My Country ‘Tis of Thy People You’re Dying
Now that your big eyes have finally opened
Now that you’re wondering how must they feel
Meaning them that you’ve chased across America’s movie screens
Now that you’re wondering how can it be real
That the ones you’ve called colorful, noble and proud
In your school propaganda
They starve in their splendor
You’ve asked for my comment I simply will render
My country ‘tis of thy people you’re dying
Now that the longhouses breed superstition
You force us to send our toddlers away
To your schools where they’re taught to despise their traditions
You forbid them their languages, then further say
That American history really began
When Columbus set sail out of Europe, then stress
That the nation of leeches that conquered this land
Are the biggest and bravest and boldest and best
And yet where in your history books is the tale
Of the genocide basic to this country’s birth
Of the preachers who lied, how the Bill of Rights failed
How a nation of patriots returned to their earth
And where will it tell of the Liberty Bell
As it rang with a thud Over Kinzua mud
And of brave Uncle Sam in Alaska this year
My country ‘tis of thy people you’re dying
Hear how the bargain was made for the West
With her shivering children in zero degrees
Blankets for your land, so the treaties attest
Oh well, blankets for land is a bargain indeed
And the blankets were those Uncle Sam had collected
From smallpox-diseased dying soldiers that day
And the tribes were wiped out and the history books censored
A hundred years of your statesmen have felt it’s better this way
And yet a few of the conquered have somehow survived
Their blood runs the redder though genes have paled
From the Gran Canyon’s caverns to craven sad hills
The wounded, the losers, the robbed sing their tale
From Los Angeles County to upstate New York
The white nation fattens while others grow lean
Oh the tricked and evicted they know what I mean
My country ‘tis of thy people you’re dying
The past it just crumbled, the future just threatens
Our life blood shut up in your chemical tanks
And now here you come, bill of sale in your hands
And surprise in your eyes that we’re lacking in thanks
For the blessings of civilization you’ve brought us
The lessons you’ve taught us, the ruin you’ve wrought us
Oh see what our trust in America’s brought us
My country ‘tis of thy people you’re dying
Now that the pride of the sires receives charity
Now that we’re harmless and safe behind laws
Now that my life’s to be known as your “heritage”
Now that even the graves have been robbed
Now that our own chosen way is a novelty
Hands on our hearts we salute you your victory
Choke on your blue white and scarlet hypocrisy
Pitying the blindness that you’ve never seen
That the eagles of war whose wings lent you glory
They were never no more than carrion crows
Pushed the wrens from their nest, stole their eggs, changed their story
The mockingbird sings it, it’s all that he knows
“Ah what can I do?” say a powerless few
With a lump in your throat and a tear in your eye
Can’t you see that their poverty’s profiting you
My country ‘tis of thy people you’re dying
Max Skate Bike
future future shi
“Laws of nature are human inventions, like ghosts. Laws of logic, of mathematics are also human inventions, like ghosts. The whole blessed thing is a human invention including the idea that it isn’t a human invention. The world has no existence whatsoever outside of the human imagination. It’s all a ghost, and in antiquity was so recognized as a ghost, the whole blessed world we live in. It’s run by ghosts. We see what we see because these ghosts show it to us, the ghosts of Moses and Christ and the Buddha, and Plato, and Descartes, and Rousseau and Jefferson and Lincoln, on and on and on. Isaac Newton is a very good ghost. One of the best. Your common sense is nothing more than the voices of thousands and thousands of these ghosts from the past. Ghosts and more ghosts. Ghosts trying to find their place among the living.“
-Robert M Pirsig - Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
Before you make fun of the pic please read below:
This photo was extracted from an Hindu Newspaper with the following text:
Only one who is truly poor can be capable of such generosity…
Grace Slick LSD (via kl0wn)
