Hey guys, sorry about the delay in posting here is a short I wrote today:

He gazed through the window at the mannequin, eyeing how creepy it looked in a perfect way. He suddenly felt that at any minute his reflection would be broken by the mannequin getting out of its beige slumber and walking over and gazing back with its thousand mile stare. To avoid the slim possibility of this ever happening he quickly walked away.

The mall was filled with Top 40 music, the incessant tweaked blaring that was muffled through a poor set of speakers. People walked around in their own little worlds filled with their own little voices, noises multiplying. He walked by, watching snippets of dangling conversations, ambiguous signals displayed via body language. He walked, he breathed in, his body metabolised energy in order to hear one more second of Miley Cyrus.

It is kind of weird that life between its highs and lows is fairly autonomic. It pretty much is on cruise control. It is either an absolute joy or a mind-blowing shitfest that pushes us somewhere. He keeps walking into the swarming crowd as I watch him.
Pair of sneakers, cheap jeans and some crappy T-Shirt and yet he still walks around with cheesy grin pasted on his face as I still watch him. God, I love this part of the hunt. It is a secret purpose, you try communicating across silently in an arrogant way to those around you and your victim to be but they never listen, they never get it. Telepathy or some innate connection between you and all living beings seems to be utter and complete bullshit. You look around, thoughts flood your mind, how you could fuck some hot girl, how you could do this or that or how you could beat that fat chubby fucker with a keyboard till his face poured with red, sticky stuff. It just sets your teeth on edge but it feels good man.

He still walks, unaware of the fact, that as his body uses ATP to fuel another mindless thought, his life is coming closer to an end. One really should be more philosophical in these kinds of moments.

If he realised that his death was imminent what would he do?

Would he go out and do what he really says, live life, find God and distil meaning or would he grovel for mercy to extend his life and go right back to the usual swing of things?

Is it better living a long, seemingly boring life or live a life that is short and ended before you can burn out?

I mean could the human body and mind really cope with fulltime following of one’s purpose with a full and true appreciation of freedom and the roads not yet taken?
Why is it that people need death to do something?

You are going to die, fuck it; I am going to really live. That notion, that sentiment always made me laugh but I’m probably the only who got the joke. He walks past a brunette with the most amazing set of breasts, they had that subtle jiggle, that delicious perkiness, I would ravish her and then she would die the whore she is.

Was that mean, calling some cute girl a whore because I want to do naughty things to her but keep in mind that I don’t say those things aloud. My silence is a lie to keep people happy; when I do talk nobody can listen anyways. I’m still following this guy around as he looks around at the bright and flashing lights and suddenly I actually hope that he will do something with his life.

I get a tough break for what I do, most people really hate me however a selected few really enjoy my sweet embrace. I see the world, I laugh at it, and it really is some elaborate joke. The derisive and abrupt finality of the world around them either inspires them or more usually crushes them. They design crazy notions with just enough missing to make them incomprehensible but in a really clever way. Their lives seem to be filled with exercises in semantics, just word foreplay.

This guy is probably in his early twenties, he struts around thinking he is amazing. He knows his flaws but the only way he can face life is by not accepting them. There are so many things he can have but due to some nameless ego driven paralysing agent he lives his life based on the passing comments of well wishers and strangers. Where is his truth, that knowledge, that feeling you just know perfectly but can never verbalise, that purpose, that drive, that realisation above all of this muck. He searches for something that he feels he can never have. I guess that still stands true but maybe it will change before we meet.

The cool thing about what I have to do is that I provide and perpetuate everything. Realities flitter in and out of existence, all of those unique connections lost and gained. It is funny though however bleak the outcome really is for him and his other cohorts in the class of 2009 they always seem to have something to hold on to, another form of biological imperative. Why live when the implacable wall of death comes in closer, like one of those walls with spikes embedded in them shown in some Indiana Jones-esque Temple of Doom and lost hopes. When the cessation of life is the ultimate outcome, why do you do the tango?

He still walks around looking into the shop fronts filled with their cool clothes and electronics, he doesn’t have enough money to buy them, he tells himself he is happy with his lot. Money cannot buy you everything but it can buy you a really nice car, some interesting experiences and a sloppy blowjob from a hooker, what more in life do you need. He has none of things and probably will never have them but yet he has that cheeky grin slathered across his face.

You know at times when you watch late night television and you watch those infomercials, those advertisements for soft-core pornography with all of those girls trying too hard and you think to yourself that they are not even that hot. You would still fuck them but you would not respect them like that friend of yours at work or at university or from somewhere else who is cute in some weird way. You know at times those ads make you feel this murderous and sometimes even a self harming rage. You say:

“Yes go on”

I say:

“No that is it”

The reason why you feel blood lust for something so trivial are probably vast and many but sometimes looking for an answer stops you from seeing anything at all. It is those little moments when you are by yourself, all by your lonesome that we all descend into the madness. That small period where the mask slips off and we daydream about fucking everyone or wondering if I could chop that guy’s head off and place it on pike and how that would feel and look. Well maybe that is just me but we all the propensity to get deluded, go a little insane in the membrane, some more than others and some longer than others, some call this phenomena religious faith.

Now back to the question, why do you do the tango?

Why does he do what he does and seemingly feel happy about it except just before sleep where the moon lights his arms just so, hauntingly beautiful and something terrible dredges his soul. He is nonchalant about what he knows and speaks with vagueness not about logic and the rest of the world but himself; he cannot define what is within to truly appreciate the world outside. Why does he choose to live and not to hang himself?

Does choose life to perpetuate happiness in others and himself or is it a deep seeded fear that will take him to dark places?

What drives him to make false promises to himself?

It is easy to see that his rhetoric falls upon deaf ears even his own, there is no real drive or purpose just a deluded sense that he will do it someday. Is it the same for the rest of the human race some urge to make a bucket list that someday they will follow out?

There seem to be more questions than there are answers, but really is all of this philosophical gesturing making his world any better, I mean here he walks, death imminent without conscious urge to make his world a better place, to achieve greatness. Why are the dizzying heights of greatness so enticing yet so off putting?

So many people say that the human race is selfish, self absorbed but my guess that this is the luxury of comfortable living, the ability to whine about everything and incessant introspective queries about what can I do to help myself. It is all well and fair, but you people seem to be so wrapped in yourselves that you don’t have any clear ideas about anything. Some people are afraid of making sexual advances, others afraid of letting people close, others are afraid of social connections and some are afraid of spiders. This phobophilia, this love of fear, drives us to crazy places. Whether it is enforced by some archaic social contract or whether it is biologically ingrained in us, it seemingly impossible to truly know but it does not bother me.

What does bother me is the man’s unique phobophilia, his unique love of fear, it really is not any different from what the rest of world feels, from those who have died before he has but yet still it interests me. He goes through life staring at beautiful women wondering how to make the perfect approach but never does and when he tries he fails. Changing mindsets, talking mental shop with his buddies, it is the opiate of his reality, he seems pretty fucking lost.

I have my drive and my purpose; it is in my design whereas most humans do not have a clue about their so called design, creation or what it means to be a random product of evolution. When you really look at it, a rat is much more fulfilled then a human being. A rat has its purpose, to eat, fuck and be a disease carrying mammal, everyday it fulfils this and then dies in a sewer, and then becomes food for various other organisms. Human beings on the other hand, who have seemingly similar purpose, do not appreciate it but that said rat isn’t a human. What makes this separation on an intellectual level?

A rat seemingly does not have the same level of sentience as you do but it follows its biological imperative however human beings on the other who have the amazing ability to bullshit write books on this. It becomes a lifelong pursuit; it is seemingly trivial yet so important. Such self absorbed creatures. It is the human condition, you cannot get away from it but it fuels you to immerse yourself in it. See what I mean by quirky notions which are missing just enough to make them sound really clever.

Back on task, the guy keeps walking through the mall now drowning out the noise with noise caused by his mp3 player. Each wave of sound activating nerve fibres going to the particular section in the brain and producing some kind of response usually linked with emotions. On a basic level, he is so complex and interesting but when you talk to him he spouts of about something or the other, does not keep his fucking mouth shut and is still wondering if people actually like him or not and whether his penis is big enough. That is why I love human beings, it is their paradoxical nature. There are so simple at times and yet so intricate. They have coexisted for millions of years and I have assisted in killing most of them.

You know I bet he is a nice guy, he has his friends, his hopes and dreams and like the rest of us his own perversions but he has his moments of glory. What if he was to believe in God, what would happen?

Would his world miraculously make sense and give him drive and purpose?

Would it enable him to cut through his own and other peoples’ neurosis in order to make the world a representation of his own brilliant dreams?

Would pigs fly?

The last one was kind of funny, some people say I work for the big Kahuna, others say I am just a force nature. He beliefs, hopes and aspirations do not really count for anything in the grand scheme of things, he was born through the confluence of chance and meiosis and he will die, his brain will cease to operate, turning off the switch on such sensations as pain, touch, temperature, proprioreception, hearing, taste, vision, balance, introspection, depression, joy, sadness, fear, hate and love. Human beings are machines processing chemicals and yet the produce such rich tapestries, so layered, so intricate and yet so humorous when they cark it.

Here we are, the light filtering through the windows warming his living skin, his dull reflection moves in the polished granite floor as he walks into some department store asking if the sell some DVD. He eyes pretty girls and video games and tells himself but to go say hi or just stay back and appreciate, that is to perve. I stand right next to him, he does not notice me, the girl in the corner does but he never is sure on what he should be doing. The world is his proverbial oyster, he is a God in it but he is stuck and blinded.

If you were to ask him what scares him the most, at the core level, it would be that he wanted to be a good tired at the end of the road, happy that knew he gave it his best but truly he wants women to love him, lots of sex and contentment. He wants to win the race but be humble about it to the reporters who ask him about it. Yet it boggles me why does he not follow through with that, why most people seemingly never do?
He slides some money on to the counter, the check out chic asks him if he wants a bag, he smiles with his cute goofy grin and says yes please. He is probably thinking about whether or not he wants to bone this girl. His world is consumed by sexual gratification and achieving it. Humans were seemingly placed on this earth to go forth and multiply and have a good time doing it. Sex seems to drive us up the wall more often than geopolitical concerns. Priests choose to be celibate, many have that mantle thrust upon them and porn or little kiddies fill the void. People kill each other in the name God, country and sex and sometimes the World of Warcraft or the lack of McNuggets. People create morals and ideals most of which the really cannot understand yet when push comes to shove they drop them. If the pipedream of Armageddon comes true how many will stand staunch in the face of it. Sooner or later they’ll be dead; it will not matter as they will be decaying worm food.

When you really break it down, the human condition stems from fear and love; he loves movies and music and fears pleasure. Intellectually most people know what is wrong with their outlooks, regardless of their positive reaffirmations or countless self help exercise, they all go towards it like a puppy to a slipper. It gets me thinking, do people get off on fear, self pity and hate. Are they all jonesing for the bittersweet taste of something bad?

Oh I love this, this chatter of thoughts flooding through my dead brain, it makes me feel good, feel human. Our friend keeps walking, he is still is not doing anything amazing. We see people walking by, none of them know I am here, they all know me, they all fear me to an extent and they all love to talk about me and write nice poems and songs about me. Sometimes they even joke about me, like one about the Jews in the ashtray or the one about throwing Asians overboard. I make those jokes about the living though, their lives are all one big joke.

You probably won’t get it but you know what some morbidly obese person falls down the stairs and doesn’t die I find that funny, or some dying kid in a wheel chair with a terrible disease, I find that funny. You may ask why I am so wrong and so perverse and why it is so funny. I will tell you, it is an inside joke, part of the trade, people die, the grand nature of life and death given to you all. These absolutes plague man and here I am playing pranks on your thoughts, your mental research and with your lives. So when I see some old lady break her hip, that pain and anguish that she feels to her core, or that time you got that shitty handjob from some girl, I laugh because you fill your lives with it, it consumes you, I laugh because you are human, I laugh because no one else will.

Enough about me, our friends time is ticking away, one second at time, sooner or later darkness will become his friend, time to get to work, and the hunt is over. See orchestrating his final moments is amazing, it is so delicate and yet so satisfying. I make sure the guard rail is unstable, just on the brink of breaking, I make sure his body is just so for that massive cardiac arrest his about to have, I make sure he is listening to his last song, I am not a perfectionist, I am perfect, I always get it right.
As he stares down at floor of the mall several stories down he begins fell his heart racing, the sudden realisation that he is slowly falling is etched on to his face, while Hurt plays in his ears and tears begin to well up, the guard rail catastrophically fails, he tries to keep his balance but his heart forces him to tumble over. As he cartwheels towards to the shiny ground this beautiful blonde with peach shaped arse runs to the site of the ‘accident’. As she bends down looking as he falls in this beautiful ballet she screams and there is that subtle jiggle I love so much, those leggings are an amazing piece of clothing. He hits the ground head first; the splatter rises high covering several bargain shoppers. Head phones still in his ears, blaring out Hurt, you see his eyes fill with realisation that the end is nigh and he looks up and sees me.

The phenomenon of one’s life flashing before their eyes is overrated more often than not the usual outcome is so much better for them, it frees them from what causes them problems in the first place, life itself. My only advice is to those who live, are to follow your dreams and live to your fullest potential. It is cliché but it really makes me laugh, so keep doing it. He gasps several times, blood oozing out; little bits of brain cover the floor. There is his mind just outside some two dollar store, his everything, on the floor, decaying. As he breaths through a broken jaw and the blood bubbles underneath his nose, the song ends and red puddle keeps growing as everyone watches, looks through me, shocked and some even scarred and I chuckle a bit. How good was this, I put on such an elegant show for free, I am perfect. The paramedics rush to the site, fear resonating in their faces, trying to save his life, their futile attempts transform my chuckle into raucous belly laugh but they cannot see or hear it. I wipe tear away from my eye and wonder how this will affect his loved ones and I realise that ultimately I do not give a fuck.

Now here is the best bit, the aftermath. He is pronounced dead, the paramedics are covered in blood, the breathing stops and decomposition begins. Newspapers report a faulty guard rail and young man taken just too early yet somewhere a mother smiles as her newborn son comes into this earth destined for something. As our friend gets up, all bloody and bruised and takes out his headphones and he turns to me and just stares.

“Yes, so how do you feel”
“What the fuck just happened, why did you do that?”
“You wouldn’t understand, you had to go”
“Tell me”
“Look I was with you the whole day gave you chances to make something of your life but you never did”
“I did not see you”
“You never did, let me ask you are you happy with your lot, your life?”
“I don’t know, I’m not sure, yeah I guess so”
“Did you do all you could do?”
“I think so”
“Lucky you, you’re dead, take it easy”

As I walk away, his stare boring into the back of my perfectly groomed hair, I smile; he is free now and is able to get my silly jokes, which of the rest of you will understand in time. As I walk past the shopfront with the mannequin in it, I see myself in the glass and damn, do I look good in a suit.

Today I was here, this place is awesome.  Past few weeks I have been visting for a swim, spa and a sauna.  It is truly epic.  I probably look like a fish with down syndrome while swimming but hey if no one is, I will do it.

This sunday is Soundwave, Nine Inch Nails, badass!

This weekend is looking so wicked, can not wait.

In other notes I had conversation this about life, it was like totally deep and meaningful.  Baiscally the usual emo premise, life has no point due to the fact that our lives in the grand scheme of things is negligible.  Which is fair enough view, but if you believe please go kill yourself (yeah I said it, man the fuck up).  I saw not out of hate but moreso from a stanpoint of the statement itself.

The way I look at it is twofold.

Fold 1

Des Cartes argument I think therefore I am.  If one was to deny the vastness and greatness of the universe that they are teeny tiny little speck in, including themselves, well there must be something thinking that thought, a mind let us call it.  This mind is you, from your mind comes the possibility of existance of everything, without your mind there is no existance.  This does not deny the possibility a world that exists objectively of you, however that again can not be proved absolutely.  So if one is possibly the seed of all existance it seems to trump that they are just a speck.

Fold 2

It has to do with the wording, if life has no point, empirically speaking it infers that there is something with a point that does not involve life.  Something that does not involve life, is the cessation of life, broadly termed death.  This friend of mine said no, well uh no, it is so like totally wrong, I have choice between life and death and I don’t choose death yet, I am like totally hedonistic.  Well isn’t that a point to life, choosing not to chose death, choosing to pursue and perpetuate enjoyment.  Even living a pointless life has a point, doing nothing is a choice.

Rereading that it seems pretty solid but I understand that in our reality, that the universe is amazing and so incredibly mind boggling that it is very difficult for us to wrap our heads around it.  That said that argument posed by said friend seems to be full of holes and it seemingly does warrant us offing ourselves.  However the human pysche says things that it doesn’t believe in all the time, this one of them, more often than not it is to provide a facade in order to do something sneaky.

This friend’s reason why not to off herself even with the fancy pants statement is people would miss her if she died.  Well if everything is so insignificant, why worry about it.  If you are so worried about people missing you, it either means there is a point to life or you want to build a death star and destroy the planet before the rebels blow it up.

Looking at it the statement seems narcissistic, a little selfish but it shows that she cares on a deeper level, which is pretty important. Anyways that is all for now.

I can’t stop adding to this post but I think this will be it, this was in a msn convo I just had about this post:

 Hawk says: 

that the universe is magnificent and that we are a small part of it but that does not exclude from living our lives to their fullest potential, everything around us might be unreal but atleast have fun with it, but hey thats me

Peace out!

This nifty little error popped up on my screen today at home.  Prevented me from installing anything.  After research and many expletives I decided to ‘upgrade’ to Vista Ultimate x86.  If you can’t fix the problem, backup, reformat and install a new OS motherfucker.  I do have to say the install process was pretty smooth and reasonably quick in comparison to XP Professional install.  It was nice to see the newest versions of IE explorer and Windows Media player already there, with the addition of DivX and VLC, my computer set for playing most media files.

Aside from the streamlined install process, Vista looks and feels alot nicer than XP, so 7 should be pretty darn good.  I’ve only played in Vista for a short while and haven’t upgraded to SP1 yet but so far so good.  I’m thinking in the next few day to go to x64 Vista Ultimate 64 bit to use all 4gb of RAM (my e-penis is huuuge!).

That said Vista seems to run smooth so far but hopefully I won’t run into and pesky malwares, I need to keep my computer AIDS free.  That said everything else is normal except my computer was a prick today.

In good news I got a copy of Incredibad - The Lonely Island.  It’s album of songs from Saturday Night Live, it’s pretty hilarious and well worth the repeated listens.  I have to say I’m on a boat is my favourite at the moment.  With T-Pain singing about fucking a mermaid and the rest of the crew being on a boat, motherfuckaaa, it is just made of epic win and pure awesome.  Get it now!

Peace Out!

Today I watched Chris Rock’s Kill The Messenger, twas pretty enjoyable there was a section in his act about the difference between jobs and careers.  A job, you hate, and a career, you love.  I work at the NRMA call centre in customer service like any job it has its ups and downs.  At times it is deadly boring and other times it is some what enjoyable.  What made my day at work yesterday enjoyable was Valentines Day.

No I did not find a secret admirer.

No I did not have sexy fling in the bathroom with a hot colleague.

I just wished people I talked to, customers and colleagues a happy Valentines day.

Young, cute, old or whomever I felt like saying it to melted.  We had a laugh and we felt good.  Sometimes distraction is the best key, when something sucks focussing in on it, increases the suckage ten fold.  I always tell people that the people I work with are really good.  To be radically honest, they are good but rarely connect with any of them.  The conversations are usually the same dull boring ones.  When we do have a nice conversation or joke around, and both parties are interested, work is usually good.

In my head, I feel that I should go out and make a connection, not wait around for it.  Whereas the logical portion of myself at times says why the fuck aren’t that doing anything, do I always to do the leg work around here, why can’t things just happen.  However that is life, life is work.  To quote 2 people, Tim Robins and Harry Chapin:

On his deathbed, Harry’s grandfather noted that there were two kinds of tired, and that now, at the end of his life, he was good tired. “Bad tired,” he explained, “can be a day that you won. But you fought other people’s battles, lived other people’s agendas, other people’s lives, and at the end of the day there was very little of you in there, and when you hit the sack at night, you toss and turn, you don’t settle easy. Good tired, on the other hand, can be a day that you lost. But you know you fought your battles, lived your agenda, your life, and when you hit the hay you settle easy, and you settle easy, and you can say, ‘Take me away.”  - Harry Chapin

Get busy living or get busy dieing” - Tim Robins as Andy Dufresne from the Shawshank Redpemtion (awesome awesome movie).

I find my life at times frustrating for various reasons and I do stupid things to usually alleviate them.  When I whing about having to do leg work I realise that life is work, life is a career, it has its ups and its downs but you work at things regardless.  You can leave a career, you can change careers, you can go and home and have a break.  To cap off this session of rambling I would like to leave you with one of my favourite comedians, Bill Hicks.

Bill Hicks - Life is a ride

Department What is Up!

On the DHL forums I’m Balaji, but here I am Hawk.  Why Hawk, you might ask (probably not)?  Well Hawk is short for Hawkeye, which is one of my favourite tv characters from MASH.  Hawkeye was one of the reasons I was interested in the Game, he was smooth, suave and was a hit with all the ladies.  Something I aspired to be and continue to do so but for very different reasons.  Like most of you, we have read the DeAngelo newsletters, perused various things online and consumed information.  Most of my highschool years were spent fantasising rather than just being open with how I feel. 

I had several crushes during school, none of which I did anything about.  I was told I was good looking, should have girls in my life etc but I never did.  It wasn’t until my first year of uni that I got my first taste of ladies, literally.  One of my good friends from my highschool years introduced me too LoGun (from AI).   Through my conversations with LoGun and Squiggle I progressed and found a new world.  

My journey was anything but smooth, I approached got numbers but never really was able to convert, a large portion of my life was devoted to Game and spirituality side of it.  A few close friends called me up on how much bullshit I was producing.  Which lead to another stage and to another and to another.  As I made each progression some times in tears but ultimately happier than before I eventually realised that ‘letting go’ was the big secret.

In 2003 I was involved in the Waterfall train derailment, through physical therapy and counselling I was able to improve both body and soul.  If I could move on from that I could move from what I feel is an invasive Game mindset.  Often times I find myself at unease, wondering why am I not approaching these women, why am I not having any success, is it me, am I doing something wrong.  Am I inadequate?  A thought that echoes through a large period of my life.

Now it isn’t about games or approaching, it is merely saying yes and realising that I am human, not some unreal casanova.  My current outlook on things is that you have to be calm, relaxed and willing to take that extra step to push your boundaries sometimes you can’t but you have keep on trying. 

Time to be radically honest, I am ok with women, I am still a virgin.  At times that makes me feel like a loser but hey why the hell not.   I still fuck up, alot.  However regardless of all my outward signs of crash and burn, I enjoy life hell of alot more than when I was engrossed with the Game and cronies.  Not to say that the Game did not get me where I am now.  I will be posting my adventures and musings here.  So don’t leave, it will be interesting, I promise, if not I’ll give you a cookie.

Peace out!

Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!