To me, this is the empty individualist experience:

The moment is a gift. Attending the gift of the moment, beliefs, memories, values. There's nothing to do but believe the beliefs, call upon the memories, uphold the values.

The problem of induction preempts all belief formation, and yet we form beliefs. The hard problem of consciousness prevents our knowing that past, future, other are conscious, and yet we believe in their consciousness.

Why do something, for future self? Then why do anything, for other selves. To give a gift. A gift of a moment experienced by other, future other, future.

What gift can you give yourself, now? Equanimity.

What gift can you give your tomorrow? Compassion.

In the real world, I don't give people advice, and I advise them to ask for stories.

In this fake world, I won't give you my stories. I'll give the forbidden fruit of tidy wisdom, the sweet nectar of packaged knowledge.

What's the point of anonymity without a little sin? 

Noise. Noise! There's noise in your system.

Perceptual, hallucinatory, masking the signal of mind-content, confusing matters all.

Let the noise be. Act anyway. Out of bed you get, and you'll wake when you're ready.

Is silence the opposite of noise?

No. The opposite of noise is calm.

The opposite of silence is sound.

The corollary to

"This is the beginning of your life":

This is the end of your life

There's a thing that happens, sometimes, in life

It presents you with a choice

A choice where the answer isn't scripted

A choice where appeasement won't suffice

Aspirations, aesthetics, and judgements of

The line between right and right

How to live and how to die

Who to love, and why

Why... not?

Why not indulge, now, in this next moment.

Embrace! the noise, and grasp!, and cling!

Because you won't feel any thing

Poems--

Poems!

Poems?

Poems will save me

Save me from my self

By being the self

No other self left to save

Sublimation turns base urges into spirit 

Not everything should be as dance

Amazing, what can be done

When the mind has no alternative

Dropped into the world

Surrounded by froth and churn

The mind joins the fray

I find myself

I find my self

Scattered

Moving

Dissolute

Grasping

Agape. Love. Quiet. Calm. Peace. Now.

Please

A list of magical fruits

coffee and chocolate

tea and tobacco

koji and miso and amazake

natto and umeboshi

kefir and kombucha

eggs and organs and fish

mushrooms

bivalves and seaweed

greens and berries and garlic and ginger

A picture of minds

And minds in minds

Infinity mirrors, intertwined

Regressing into the distance

With passing time

They flash and strobe

Kaleidoscopes and crystals

They shatter

the bite of malic acid

the slick of waxy skin

the crunch of young lamella

i am ready to begin

I look around myself and see

A rush of mad men gripped by the insanity of THINGS!

These THINGS! they chase in bounding leaps

These THINGS! they grasp... but for a moment

For THINGS! there ever are even more

And THINGS! do not suffice

But I, in my repose of steadfast vision

Do I stand in any better place?

Or is it frailty that keeps me bound in place

And stupidity unable to walk and see at once?

I have been thinking

about sex, and about sexuality.

I have been thinking the following:

Sexuality and consciousness and suffering are intimately intertwined.

Evolution brought consciousness into this world to process information more effectively

and brought suffering into consciousness to bend consciousness towards its aims

and as sex is its aim, brought suffering into sex.

What to do about qualia?

In the absence of contingency, the pure, consonant, vibrantly energetic qualia.

But I have my likes, and my dislikes.

I like browned potatoes.

I like my friends.

I like sex -- I think?

So? Shall we couple ourselves to our selves, or vibrate in austerity?

He who practices celibacy to --

attract women

succeed professionally

seem powerful

-- is spiritually bankrupt.