(bornofashesandflames)

I like to smoke cigerettes and make profound statements. Unfortunatly I am much better at smoking cigerettes. The former will kill you much faster the the latter will and when you die, eventually, you d better hope that you said or did something goddamn fucking poetic.
Some sort of impact.
Isn t that what were all after in the end anyways. Poets, muscians, artists, politicans; all were after is some sort of lasting legacy. Some sense of meaningful imortality. A vain pursuit.
In this life, this culture of convienence, vanity is really all we seem to have. Blogs, facebook accounts, flickster and myspace. All just screaming attempts to be recognized. Blazing attempts at life after death cannonized on digital mediums that are infact more fragile then our own flimsy cardboard and plastic lives. Our opinions floating like a sinking ship, listless in cyberspace. Firing flares into the black empty air.
A final s.o.s. screaming do not fucking forget me. I mean something.
The primal human instinct to recreate ourselves. We will do anything to further our family line, further our species , further our knowledge or ourselves. We long to understand a world with no comprehensive guide book, no google map for existance, no wikipedia for the soul. For every question answered a million new ones arise. Our faliure to comprehend has birthed this artificial world. A second life and new universe to help us cope with our own confused existance. To help us to justify it. The oldest question anyone knows, the first question most of us ask ourselves...

Why..

Why are we here...

What are we doing..... What is our purpose.

I guess this is my own way of grasping at cosmic straws. My own intellegence struggling to figure itself out. My little black box flight recorder. Maybe someone will pull this from the wreckage of internet porn and pirated software and give a little insight into the slow madness that is ourselves. I don t count on it though. So I light another cigerette and hope that someone one day finds my message in a bottle floating free on this vast electronic ocean. That they pluck it from the cool black void and unfurl this message. A message in a language long since unspoken and forgotten. I remove another cigerette from a crumpled pack and let the flame from an androgenous, disposable, enviromentaly unfreindly lighter lick its tip. Born from flames and ending in ashes, just like us. I like to smoke cigerettes but one day it will kill me. That is if nothing else does it first. Welcome to infinty, to possibility extended. This cyclical metaphysical dialouge bettween you an me. It never ends and as it moves and if there is one thing I can be sure it is that......

I will never be him again.