remembering things adored
torturing myself, i am reading back thru emails.. emails from 2 years ago and beyond. i tend to keep these things forever, in same fashion as the vampire, sucking emotion & sensation & recollection from emails & letters years and years later.. as if the moments themselves were not enough and must be revisited and re-experienced in regular fashion. i think back to before moving to seattle, before life went to hell-in-the-handbasket during the highly eventful year of 2001. i remember my love, my friend my confidant my future my forever: my michelle. i remember my best friend whom i love beyond his death, i remember his love & then for some time she was my love. i remember panic & passion & preperation to leave the city & fear that the northwest was a bad idea (it turned out to be the most horrible idea but had very positive side effects) and my reluctance to leave the family i came to knew in vegas and the power that sin city gave me.. i remember my obssessions, my vices, my addictions & hungers. 2 years since then has been a ride of unbelievable proportions.. i am more alone than ever, separated from the ones i love more than anything (either by geographical location or by the membrane between the living and the deceased). in a short time i plan to return home, to the psychic 'white noise' and alien fly-overs, mafia owned corporations and legions of the shattered & dreamless... how so much time has passed since then i cannot tell.. more than a lifetime has occurred between here and there, yet only two years have gone by. 1 of desperate poverty, 1 of relative good earnings. both in literal isolation and figurative disconnectiveness... the shadows still exist, passion is an untamed fire burning alone as isolated watch towers do, fire inside is hotter and whiter than before, yet is still paled by the darkness that is this soul's truest nature..

i miss you, michelle & samantha, more than anyone can ever hope to understand and forces within us are so very anxious to be back within reach of your presence again. i wonder if you have realized what a defining, monumentous role you have played in this life & others...


yes, in Father's service eternally
  ¶
-setia writing @ 9:25 PM

 
saddness
even though dwindling summer evening sunlight brings messages of hope that tomorrow will begin on time - and will be brand new as promised, glimmers arise as mirages from the desert heat.. each invoking their own reflections of past images, situations, memories. as my heart insists, each love obtained but lost has increased my appreciation for beautiful souls and passionate sexuality.. lost as nothing lasts forever, yet still may argue this point in the case of death as we were all supposed to die together, as a singularly perceived moment rather than some dying sooner (and in the presence of others) and others dying later (and alone).. grief never goes away and nothing ever makes it better. it changes us, making our whole selves to accomodate these experiences we drag as though its very clanging of iron can-sounds fortold some nightmare wedding day unraveling immediately before us.. history repeating itself into oblivion, driving the timid and shaken around and around its rat-cage excercise wheel. how many times do we watch reruns before we begin predict their helplessly obvious outcomes?
remorse only for those who died wanting to be wicked, but far too afriad or just to long programmed to take its single delicious addictive step, i find tears are shed.. but only when pleasure is lost and fortune has been missed.. an instantaneous moment of ecstacy carried to us by the vicarious winds of her first pleasure's discovery, we conclude it is because of this unending rabid hunger that the beast within must be let loose, be uncontained and indulge in whatever manner of excess it deems fitting.. perhaps some are revolted by such suggestions, i however see these truths in their own refracted light.. i shall not hesitate to step forward boldly.


it is scrupulous to believe we are not prisoners of our selves.. we are inmates of our reality.. locked inside the only place where time exists..  ¶
-setia writing @ 3:42 AM

 
evil
it has been suggested, that those whose lives are spent within the charitible service of others, that in afterlife they become saints, cannonized by the Vatican. it has been said that the people who choose to dwell in simpleness or in misery for the sake of misfortuned are higher than the rest of us, stronger, greater and favored for paradise in the argument that afterlife is a consequence/reward system for mortal-life. i have always failed to understand how the weak & miserable can somehow benefit others who are weak & miserable as profit is measured in terms of gain and loss is always loss no matter how its termed. my experience has taught me, that insuring myself is taken care.. that serving myself before all others, keeps me in an elevated position where i may be of usefullness to others. i wonder how many otherwise genuine souls, beautiful, forthcoming, honest and true in intention, have damned themselves because their value system taught them to think of their lives secondary to the life of another. i wonder how many otherwise beautiful people became ugly and bitter because of such subscribed notions.
i think that the more one is interested in bettering themselves, the more wealth, or power, or security, or capability one accumulates, the better position one is in able to make real change & differences in the lives of other. is there charity created by greed? bill gates gives significantly to charity, and continues to be the wealthiest person on the planet.
as my profession is within the computer industry, i hear many things spoken of microsoft. the bastards in washington, 'evil empire', greedy capitalists who have monopolized an industry and world. it is true, some will complain about cold days in winter, even though they routinely arrive and can even be accurately projected down to a single date. microsoft is a perfect example of greed in motion, in production. thru various means (some legally questionable) microsoft has acquired and developed technology that runs more computers than any other software manufacturer. their paranoia of software piracy has introduced interesting software security techniques that other companies are also employing. their monopoly of an industry has done great measures towards standardization (even standardized security breaches and system instrusions and system of 'updates' which are really bug fixes). their wealth has produced some incredible breakthroughs in the ways we control machines and how they work for us. gates has accumulated vast wealthy & buys mexican children school houses and computers w/ windows loaded. is there anything wrong with charity designed to teach the young loyalty towards manufacturers of products for purchase in their adult lives? if the children eat today and go to school tomorrow, does it matter where the funding comes from or what the motives are? i think there are none, because sinister motives can have real-time positive effects on otherwise desperate situations. where is the line that defines self servitude from selfishness, or charity from manipulation?
you know, everyone has a personal agenda and intention behind every motion, every action and movement.
there is no charity. everything is evil.  ¶
-setia writing @ 8:59 PM

       hole self
a long time ago i became aware of this very deep black hole inside of myself.. a sucking vacuum that nothing was capable of filling.. my quest then became first for peace.. before i realized there is no such then.. then to distraction (which i have spent 10 years easily deeply mired within) which is highly successfully, but only in the context of these moments.. in long term even distraction brings boredom and inability to focus attention.. in this year.. today.. these moments.. i have found again, and again the undisclosed benefits of being a black sucking hole for a soul.. wisdom comes to the darkness even faster that it does to brilliance. Pleasure is twisted, happiness becomes a sickness and hunger is paramount. residing here is that ever present search for knowledge, to know and understand this universe. disregarding the wounds i carry or the sinking depths of my eyes, ignore the bitterness and hatred that exhumes me.. focus for this instant rather on the truth i see, the horror i know because as negatives logically persist, worlds founded in truth have turned into illusionary escapes of whim, worlds whose reality is illusion cancel obscurity and all truth becomes horribly evident.

i thought of this girl i have been reading and her struggle within drug addiction. my thoughts go back to a very recent past that concluded lifetimes lost in the distraction self medication provides... i know only for myself, knowing nothing for others as i cannot experience what they do.. i know that for myself the elements of drug addiction are seen in new lights beyond and after the moments of obssession, in ways and in years of abstinance they become attractive again.. but experience teaches that nothing is free, every moment if pleasure, freedom carries a heavy price. so much as this world is our playground, we are disallowed from playing free of charge. eventually there will be routines that become far too spiritually or physically expensive to continue or that we lose interest in, and so we change.. i think that is ok. nothing in here ever lasts forever anyway. so we change.  ¶
-setia writing @ 7:50 PM

       perception
yeah, so this dream has been continuing now for well over two years, i spent almost 7 happily within the trancebliss of vegas.. caught up in its trappings and living a most wonderous life of chaos, passion, insanity, indulgence and lack of any hardcore reality. my job vanishes, i move to seattle with several offers in hand.. nothing seemed to work out for anyone after 9/11, a year in the nw and i moved to new mexico for job and low living expenses. keep waiting to wake up from this rolling disaster and find myself listening to the sounds of the strip, helicopters flying over hughs properties with spotlights and the ever constant gaze of the overseer stratosphere. remembering crying (with irish coffee in hand) drunk before Belagio's light & watershow, walking around freemont, mingling with the drug dealers, streetgirls and undercover cops.. lost in the fervor of convention and dead with forgetfulness of everyone who used to be in my life, watching kansas girls trip along the strip with their little brothers and parents, awestruck by structural represenations of lust, carnal greed, endless thirst, tipping wonderful stripper girls who dance so beautifully whilst my wallet has cash. homesick and crazed with it...

these days, they (who used to constitute my circle of friends during late teens and early twenties) have not been continuing the work of the evil one to this day, rather sunk in self obsorbtion, the need to change that life of endless addiction knawing at their heeltips.. the concept of addiction becomes less pronounced when referred to in senses of lifestyle choices rather than disease conditions resulting in self medication side effects. i thank my Father daily that i do not have children, that i had the foresight to be fixed early on.. my path will not include misery and injustice i am responsible for inflicting upon those still innocent. my heart goes out to margaret & malcom and kristi & cadence. you girls are holy and your children have been endless vicarious delights for me. i never forget.
i retain pleasure for what i have lived.  ¶
-setia writing @ 11:49 PM

 
i did it again today, the perfect part of devil's advocate. playing both sides, arms opened wide comforting those whose displeasure is derived from events i am helping to foster. these positions are never ones i choose, and it seems that most of the time i find myself inbetween two whom i love very much, not willing to choose sides yet not willing to reject the requests to do so.. devils advocate. i suppose it is true 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions'. god damn us all.

i gained deep and great favor with a client today. their feelings of inadaquacy and technophobic tendancies rendered their whole selves inferior to the machines they attempted to exploit as tools. my mastery of these machines turned their fears and tremors to beautiful illusions of hopefullness. i have to laugh at myself, whatever mastery of these machines i have i am their servant, tending to their every need to keep those internal mechanisms working. i hear the sounds of its giant mechanical voice in my head.. 'setia, write my language.. setia, replace my capacitors.. setia, complete my bidding.'  ¶
-setia writing @ 10:33 PM

 
going to the doctor tomorrow, so god damn afraid of doctors, not for what they do but for what they reveal. doctors are like me, only on cosmetic or total rebuild stuff do they ever carry good news, the rest of the time they just inform you how bad it really is. hate doctors, have considered cancelling several times but won't cause i know i'm sick. hate doctors.  ¶
-setia writing @ 1:18 AM

       interprète de rêve
last night dreams are still vivid in my mind, i'm trying to document them but so much information has been lost.
i am in my early 20's, or so it feels. young but strong, filled with common sense but not much life experience yet. i have a companion with me, she is also young & beautiful. for whatever reason we agree to attend/are sent to a christian themed camp located in an old castle. our hours are filled with endless & tiring lectures and subsequent discussions of topics i find to be extremely boring and impractical. i sit listening to the babblestream my eyes and mind wandering to the aspects of this castle environment. at long last, discussion is over, bored and stiff from sitting in unmoving positions myself and my companion slip away from the group and begin to wander. we hear the sounds of other people outside, involved in whatever wholesome activity was planned for these moments, ignoring the murmers we open one wooden door, then another, traverse dark hallways and come to more empty rooms. a round room with doors on opposing sides is revealed as we come to another hallways termination. the room is largely unremarkable, giving it hardly a glance the door on its opposite side is opened, a winding stair case cut of the same stone of the castle's construction beackons us downwards. carefully and quietly each step is crossed and committed, stairway winds down two cycles before coming to a bottom landing. there is a great chasm before the landing, a draw-able metal bridge crosses the abyss and leads to a larger cavornous area on its other side. instinctively i pull the draw bridge up, cutting the path thatleads between here and there. i see figures on the other side, a melee of persons, it is chaos. At one moment, i see one personfigure carrying a section of wrought iron fencing (with sharp pikes on its top section) chasing after another personfigure, swinging their section of iron fence in attempts to strike the other.. two other figures come to view, both are at each end of a finely crafted wooden coffin, carrying it from one point to another. a fire can be seen dimly in the distance of the caves, figures seen dancing around the fire, jumping into it, then out of it in a cascade for sparks & embers. my fascination grows as i watch this infernal activity, not realizing that the door above me had been left open and a small sliver of reflected sunlight traveled down the stairs with me, pooling near my feet at the stairlanding, illuminating my position and interest. unaware also of a small gathering of figures, their faces unseen by darkness but their shapes evident to me as my vision focuses on the near and away from the far. they gather in small group, then in another small group, both groups eventually swelling to a single group, staring at me. i see flash of their eyes, eyes looking towards me from corners or from contorted seeing positions. they watch me. they watch me with hatred, with interest and especially with hunger. my blood is frozen and mind racing, i see thin lines which represent their mouths, now opening and crying out horrible moaning sounds as they gather across the gap, unable to cross the bridge which i have drawn and wishing so intently to be on the same side as i.

my cell phone rings early this morning and i am pulled abruptly from my nightmare. i am at once aroused and frightened by what i have seen and recall.. it has meaning, but its implication to me is confusing. i seek redemntion in the blackness, and serenity from the horrible, this is already presumed.. the imagry of this dream both parallels this and opposes this and i continue to be lost.  ¶
-setia writing @ 10:53 AM

 
passing ghosts heres the host
talk of nothing matters most
urban fracture whats the matter
only i am lost
rip blade doomsday cut string
way they go away
die love
icebreaker
are words misused
enough those shameless view
icebreaker
shall sail right through
cold mirror
gives icy clues
notice shells ails the well
smell of hell dosed phantoms will
future answer does it matter
deaths the only thrill

-icebreaker.remission.skinnypuppy  ¶
-setia writing @ 11:17 PM

 
rain
todays skies grew dark, black with massive thunderclouds slipping in tidal wave form over mile high mountains, their presence dominating this afternoon's hours, casting stern shadows across the valley and changing the very nature this day's moments. rain, it smelled wet, thunderous, ready to erupt in torrential streams of sensory stimulation, illusions and little pieces of fantasy. How liberating to feel the exciting jagged shards of electricity, borne only from acutely charged air particles, racing in their random paths across my skin.. so massive were the thunderclouds that even inferno vanished from us, desert heat gave way to cooler air and moist breaths wind. there is magic at work every time it rains like this.. even if there is not, there is.. because i feel it so strongly.

delerium reaches with so long a grasp, from across the room, across miles and eons delierum always reaches out, always catching me with webbed fingers and feet. the complexity of our origin, enigma of our day to day encounters with those we know, and are around & those we know well, but never met until this moment, our ever hungry ever scheming obssession with sex, all of these things overloading senses relying on rationale and logic, because they and everything else around us lacks both rationale and logic. delerium, not borne of cause, but of effect. labor's brilliant starlight after-glow.  ¶
-setia writing @ 11:11 PM

 
The dimness of light cast by a dying nighttime shed predawn illumination upon the bedded sheets of dreams fading to gray. His back towards me, his ghost telling me so.. I realized the torment of salvation comes to deserving souls quickly.. this empty glass fortelling or implying hours of sadness and longing.. Forever watching, a candle flame dying to be set free of its wick, eager to cast the flower of fire into all willing souls..
He told me of the days behind and days to come, of horror, of pleasure, of nightmare and release.. his eyes spoke of things even he did not know, glimmers of macabre style fleeting towards a wider open mouth.. pitch in blackness, far below the promises of heaven and well within my reach..
My pillow, unturned, whispered secrets of forbidden sex, unfolding tales within this single candle's light brightness.. its voice velvet against my cool flesh, pale and unwavering, known only to those whose true intention is unending sin.. in the days of self destruction, in the light of self servitude, in the tradition of all whose greed turns holy and whose hunger is sacrement.. we lay together, unmoving against occult figurines dancing in the shadows of blinds turned tight.. eyes closed securely..
Living flesh caresses flesh long deceased, its eloquency fabricated along rigid lines of ecstacy.. life devoid of color, of relation, of sensation or delight. we who stand so firm against the frailities of reality, we whose brows crease with the anguish of true knowledge.. we whose mothers in gutters lie.. we who stand on corners in waiting.. we whose comfort and compassion sells to highest bidder.. we whose hell is within these fingers reach..
His unmoving form shone in pale moon light, his ghost holding me close to the edges of rigid gaping mouths, his spirit finding avenues of suffering to lead me astray upon..
Nothingness and the bliss of.. lending this wretched soul reasons for discomfort, goals to aspire beneath and lips to fall from.. rightious and perfect in every way, we who were designed for failure, whose success becomes a burden.. perfect in every way..
His darkness crept amongst us, his body well disposed.. decomposed within our arms.. an open mouth giving way to rotting flesh.. his burning skin giving way to empty desire, unquenchable and insatiable.. a body lain to waste, an alter of perversion stands beneath my hips, i reclined over angels of disease.. and i'm sure i heard his last wishes.. sacrement turned sour, turned to blood.. flesh to ashes.. and his form lay still under a pale uncaring moonlight drift..
i remember redemntion, i fucked thruout that day and came again...

rest in peace dear Carlos. we love you & miss you.
05.12.2001  ¶
-setia writing @ 4:37 PM

 
funny thing about dreams,
i dream about the things i want or wish for, inevitably in my dreams comes the elements which preclude my actually having or doing these things, consequences thinly disguised as possible outcomes at times more fantastic then the focus of the dreams, the desire itself.
Thus, i have come to the following conclusion, it is not the fantasy that is a dream, it is the alternative roads, possible realities that is the dream.. for each somnambulist there are real waking situations. The next time i sleepwalk myself out to my car, turn on the radio and light a cigarette i shall remember this.

when i was younger, i used to think dreaming was prophetic. As i grew older, i began to believe it was other possibilities to points i had already traveled thru, i have since discarded both notions and firmly believe there are many different worlds within which we live. wakeing world has a life, we have loves & hates and duties and obligations. dream world is exactly the same, our dual realities share a single body and mind, thru time slicing each life receives attention from the mind as we traverse the circle which is wake & sleep.  ¶
-setia writing @ 10:17 AM

       port.
i am restless in the wake of these things that have already come, their meaningful swells battle from side to side, to & fro- jostling for position amongst the many rising waves blown in from distant hapless places. were their more of them, more instanious beacons desperately seeking light, more strong hidden forces lurking beneath rolling waves and sinister waters, were their more of all things unsettled and unaccomplished we may never allow ourselves to rest again.  ¶
-setia writing @ 1:50 AM

 
First post...
Believing that it is possible to live beyond the expense of our flesh, this one sets forth to immortalize themselves thru permenant web-logged journal. I hope all sinners can be forgiven.
Who am i..
dear blog, today begins our first in a long series of many, we shall be working together tightly within this experiment. I am 30, eccentric, connesiuer of all things deviant, wicked, and dedicated to seeking truth. You are an endless diatribe of code designed to serve me in my attempts to self express.
the pleasure is all mine......
justification.
By any other means, this is a venture i would hardly set forth on myself, whether thru the eyes of the egocentrist (i am the world, therefore i have no need to express myself specifically as this world continues to follow in the line of my own thought patterns) or the eyes of the coward (i refuse to explore my self objectively for i fear what lies beneath these black waters) i would have had great substance to promote the debate of how useless and self serving this concept be.. were it not for the advise and insight of a special friend, we would not be in this forum.
many humble, sincere thanks
I welcome the perception this journal will reveal, and thank you very very much jenny for your efforts & encouragement. Your documented world has been an inspiration to me for longer than you know.  ¶
-setia writing @ 11:36 PM