Stream of Conscience-Consciousness

what is this life; this meaning? I see. I eat. I create. I age. I feel the world is this an empty mollusk shell that sits an swallows the spirit of humanity in it's endless Fibonacci abyss. Is there a justifiable way of living? Can my mind be rationalized, rationed, bought, sold, placed, gps located? Can it sit in a Cartesian plane and no exactly where it is? Is my mind my own creation? Is my head an actual head or is it my body? Is what I see to be true? My fetus like eyes that duplicate the present and create transparency in what would be considered opaque dictates this exotropic vision. How can I live? How am I supposed to live? I can't live scrapping along day by day forever. I can't eat all of my rations but my food is the foundation to my cellular membrane. Can the nanoscale dictate the macro? Will my mind be put in a jar similar to way my dick currently feels? Will I ever feel the way normal people feel like? How am I supposed to live? What am I missing? Am I missing life, love and the pursuit of happiness? Is my soul that of another? Whom can fill the void that otherwise leaves the balance lacking equilibirum? I cannot doubt my experience but can I question what I should be experiencing? Am I supposed to be having friends call me 24/7? AM I supposed to be setting up events prior to planning? How can I distract myself from the boredom the ineviteably weakens the mind my muscles? Entertain myself with thoughts of configuration and reconfiguration and re-self-evaulation? This constant critique drives my body down to the dirt where the fungus grows and seeps the residue of the black mold. It breathes life from the work and sufferance of every worker, artist and farmer? It cross pollinates with virus of doubt and loathing. How can one thrive and innovate your schedule that dictates your money throws you into the never-ending mundane? This blank white room a with a computer screen and mind the wastes it's time? I try; I attempt to make the best of my time, my money, my world, my resources but, what is the best? What is my hardest? Can't always be pushed further and further? I will always say I try my best? Is this really my best? What are the things that I can improve upon? Does one thing deserve to be prioritized on a different a hierarchical level over the other? Does this pyramid deserve the same critique that it in fact is used to justify the current level of critique? How am I supposed to react? How am I supposed to feel? How am I supposed to exist? I am healthy? Am I unhealthy? Do I need more vitamins? Am I taking too much? AM I taking not enough? Should I be as harsh on myself as I am now? Maybe I am not harsh enough? Maybe I should take a break? Maybe I should play devil's advocate? How can I advocate the devil to me direct back to the right path? Would it be the right path? In fact wouldn't it be the wrong path? How can I trust my self if I am using playing the devil's advocate? Am I a devil for this use of advocation? Should I hate myself and yet love and respect everyone else? Should I deserve a fate? Is believing a fate limiting to the future? Can pre-determinism destroy the very soul that it is based on? How am I tangentially predetermined? Can Fibonacci destroy my means of existence? Maybe the chaos will save me. Maybe the rigidity of structure learning and academy will be my end? Maybe even writing in such or even thinking in such terms is detrimental to my mind and my health? Or even my cause? Can this be considered a work of art? What is a work of art? What can I do to get my work in the MOMA? Is the MOMA a proper venue for my art thrive? Isn't modern aspect deconstructed through contemporary schemas? Or are they creating a new French academy to be destroyed? How does critical theory enter into my own life? Am I objectifying this women? Does she love me? Do I repulse her? Why does she give me attention for two minutes then is swayed by another man? Are the words "cockblock me" written on my forehead? Does it ever surprise me when somethings actually seem to work out they don't simultaneously. I can't make the world go round and hold to the nostalgia. I can't rely on only health when health is reliant of wealth? These signifiers mean nothing and mean everything? Maybe I should shut up? Fuck my life. Fuck this computer and it's constructed future? Fuck this. Fuck that. blah blah blah. Stop complaining. Stop whining. Shut the fuck up. Suck it up. Be a man. Be what your dick dictates. Enjoy some women getting raped by five men in five of her orifices. Wear hats. Listen to rap music. Watch monster trucks. Inject testosterone. Eat meat. Support the war. Support our troops. Don't be weak. Don't listen to them. Don't enjoy. Don't be one of them. Be a team player. Be right minded. Be on the winning side. Lace up your Nikes and kick some ass. Go to war. Play basketball. Don't think, just do it. Intellect is for sissies and fudge packers. My life is more valuable than anyone else's. I deserve to invade a country on false information. The destruction of lives. My life. My soul. My god. Oh my god. OMG. Nothing. Meaningless information. Meaningless valuables. Value. Worth. Networth. Total. Sum. Commodity. Flesh. Blood. Skin. Hair. Your mind. Your soul. Your paycheck. 1,000 dollars and you are already broke. Your broken Destroyed and nothing. Your owned by your corporate masters and they own you. Your pathetic and symbiotic. You depend upon others to keep you a float. You can't make it on your own. You have no independence. Your social life and your job rein supreme. Your friends call the shoots. You are shot. You have no mental footing. You are your surroundings and your environment. Without everything, your experiences, your life, your friends, your family, you would be a primordial soup of nothing. You live in a pit of you own feces. You can't bare the sight of hyperreality. You are living in endless expectations. A neverending critique until your blood boils and you veins pop out your skull. How can you feel what has been created for you, by you and you the people that own you. You are your brands, your money, and your bar code. You can't stand to bare life; the thought that you are not original. You can never get close to anyone because the thought that someone is better or exactly like you invalidates your own worth. What are you doing? What's the point? What's the use? What's it mean?