journal entry: 02

' i need an abandoned hotel room for days... to isolate myself ...from myself.

do you ever get tired of  yourself? .. do you ever get an astringent, pungent feeling

in your retinas? 

..i appreciate the grittiness and vulnerable states of morning ,

but i also unfold in the uncompromising intensity of night. the convoluted implications,

the unhindered, wild imagination and nature..

i realize,.. that every where i go physically, i turn that place into a 'think tank'...

i despise myself for trying to disguise and shield on the surface, by trying to make 'light conversation'..

journal entry: 01

" i hope oh dear,  Lord.. they can find the fire behind my eyes... the weight.. the feeling .. the thought Provocation. the brevity. I want to singe.

(If I must burn

You must burn also).

...i really must get myself together.

I really must live the hermit life.

...i really want to be honest with myself."
9/22

through the senses

please consider: 

David Solomini (http://www.davidsolomini.com)

"Desperation is the Raw material for drastic change".

go away.

i dont want you to see me like this.

visual stimuli: photo reel.

the rise & fall.

© Joshua Datu

lately, I've been given the biggest dosages oscillating between compliments to full racism. ..in all honesty with you, I kind of like it. I don't know, but.. living in between the extremes and experiencing both sides of each kind of emotion (if any) is amusing and even invigorating.


 Walking through the streets and spending my new life in a new town, .. I would think attending an art school that celebrates eclecticism, obscurity, and abnormal semblance and thought would help bring me into their coveted wings.
Oh, no on the contrary. There is something about the preconceived notions of a fresh, young, thing conceiving an "artist" or truly living the bohemian lifestyle... they go through all the physical alterations and ailments. they try to "look" the part, but if anything.. there is no waves to their very nonverbal living. There is no waves of intention, waves of influence, because what they are pivoting and moving on has no identity behind the exterior distractions.


...that's what I've been seeing lately at this school. Looking about and around at the crowds of seemingly "young, creative, free thinkers".. all of them looking to each other to feel some sort of identity or normalcy. While I,
just sit back, ...agape, earbuds on, watching the herds of many, running into walls.. running into eachother.. hoping they'd find each other.
Maybe .. maybe this sickness and degenerating mentality will end. maybe soon, when they have the time to lie awake in their beds at night, forced to face their isolation from home and loneliness.. maybe this sickness will end when they sit and face themselves and realize the tapped well within them. Maybe they'll get hits here and there of madness.
and maybe... if they're not afraid they'll let it surge invisibly to their veins, all collecting to a place in their hearts, within their vessel that brings about true evocation. When the hilarity of passion and inspirational pandemonium erupt into the systematic natural: then there is beauty to be had.

madness is the closest form to ecstasy.

this maddening obsession has been the sickness that will take the very life of me. it has become the food and drink of my day to day, causing my body to ache and hunger for everything more but nothing ever  less.

i've been overtaken by the ideas that will ultimately ensue and reproduce themselves in me. 

my days have become like that of  heavy drips of dew, filled and saturated with illimitable purpose, slowing down the hands of time so intimately that i can hear the ramifications of it's ticking reverberating off my head, and feel it off my tongue.

i've been haunted with the ghost of now,  

the apparition of the inescapable.

the figment of the urgent..

i'm being pulled by two, long, invisible, red reigns; chords that seem to stretch and connect to the very pit of me and drag me along to the invisible oblivion, the black hole of wonder that will soon reveal itself as my destiny. the lighted tunnel, the illuminated path that will bring me to my eternal revelation of destiny and ultimate freedom in the unknown..

in a life, a world where there are many monotone implications,

many twists and turns in the science of living.. i have eluded them, escape, walked through, and punctured my gaze through all of it. anything that threatens to slow down my thought processes, make cloudy the intensive connection to the immaculate elegance of the unknown, i dispel from my existence.

I've allowed their words to become passing echoes, faded memories, light indention marks that no longer stood the test of time in my mind.

this has been the ramifications of the here and now, like the felt sensation of velvet on the walls of my mind, the coarse texture  of beauty inspiration felt on my tongue. .. there can never be enough of the explicit characteristics of this creative destiny that is about to unfold in front and inside of me.
i can feel it's vocations, i can feel it's warmth firing the very crevices of my mind: what is done in secret, will ultimately be brought to the light.


importance in the -invisible-.

your inherit obsessions will ultimately pull you

and finally take you under.

encapsulate.

never thought my Dreams can become this visable.. i never thought it can overtake me and shock me into overwhelming my reality.

with each turn of the tide, with each undulating motion of this ever shifting waking moment:

i find myself stepping into a highly fragmented, saturated glimpses of prophecy.

every turn of the tide into a new form of revelation:

the atmosphere, the scents, the weather ..the change, the exact hint of tone in a persons voice, a sign i slightly caught while catching the public transit, the piercing look in an unknown's eyes but highly understood:

the deepening, intensifying intuition that now has evolved into manifesting physically in my body.. all of these things have become the Shocking Reveal of letting your dreams be at the mercy and become overtaken by the Eternal's hands.

again i say.. my eyes. my heart . my future-the very fabric of my quivering mind.. stands agape at the  orchestrating movements that are yet to unfold.

i cannot attempt sleep, for every waking moment is saturated in culminating fulfillment.

i have nothing left of me, but to

finally let this take me under.

they can smell it in your blood.- 9/12

..whatever is happening, it's not enough. i need constant monopolizing.
i am in constant morph.
it is not so much a cognizant effort, i am not putting my own strenuous exertion into this.. i feel it wouldn't be pure. it would become adulterated in some way,
manipulated even the slightest.

this need..

it is the type of monster that crawls across your glimpses of revelation at night.. that cause your pupils to enlarge, widen your Spiritual eyes and have you staring into the night as if falling in love with only this night.. to pant for more.

It is nothing by the corruption of human hands.
oh, how i love it.
it is Nothing any can steal from me, because it was purposefully planted there from the beginning..
strange how many, are not in tune with the very make, fabric, and weight of their own conception.
Each..
has something that the world will never fully wrap around and let intertwine their mind,
but is vibrant and most fervently ..Felt.
it is something that is superfluous and slips through the cracks and cervices of greedy fingers, raping hands,
and unsatisfactory eyes.  Eyes that only gleam for another person's luster.

how selfish
how foolish their own toxic (hidden) demeanor.
instead of dreams that slowly propel them towards their future- where their spiritual waking moments are left to the intangible at and unquenchable hands of the Eternal at night, they are left at the mercy of their own skewed venomous eye's hunger that robs them of their dreams.

They are left with the haunt and toil of another, instead of beautiful dreams that build their waking sleep they are left at their mercy of a degenerating spiral of comparison;  under the facade of trapped doors in invisible monuments.
how self-destructive their own invisible assault. ..
with every silent pilfer; every hook made to steal, suck, and penetrate. this  charade and impersonation so easily raped by the idea and mind of Another..
they are left bereft.. in a deserted plain of unknowing: for all the Living Streams of Water flowing in their own direction were left to swelter in the expiration of the Sun's daylight hours - abandoned, for their gaze and focus was left elsewhere, deceived at the fascinating assault of another.

raids of perpetuating Light.

these tantalizing moments in this tend to cast spells and waves of chills up the spine.. competing with the invisible hooks that claw forth, hungering and invoking their message.
in this moment,.. i'm in a dangerous state of mind. and it will bring forth  irrevocable beauty. ..and it will Expel completely out of me: run through me.

and i'll watch it go forth, ..float up,.. transcend..firing the retinas.. refining into Eternal value.
 and i'll be in a heightened state of perception,... clearing all senses.. overtaking my sensations, 

past all Human clarity.. as i laze into the Unspeakable.
in this moment of time, clarity is not through the dominating of expired thought or Overzealous encumbering words.

it is stopped. hushed. silenced and taught to awe. 

where it'll unhook you from the repeated... from the self-contaminating cycle. 

and the cycle of human life (death on earth while waking) is finally stopped within me.

 as my Eyes Gaze forward.. into the Eternal, into His raids of the Unspeakable.

raids of perpetuating Light..
 as my own Light..  is never my own. my strength fails me and i like it.

 it is never fueled by Me. and it will never become me, 

but i'll adhere to it.

as they gaze,... they gaze.. and pant forth, 

lost in what they do not see. beautifully lost to the imperceptible yet satisfying. and in this type of oblivion, there is a circular motion of appetite to satiability, this type of lost.. their Souls pant for.

and in this Truth that is discovered,

they'll continue the Search only to find, and never be found again.

but have indelible worth

and irreplaceable identity.

 in this inexplicable moment, ..their inner bodies rupture with the invisible patterns set forth from the patterns of life.. their parents' genetic inheritance, their inhibiting thoughts.

this Risk ..into the unspeakable splits forth to form new atoms in His existence.  

..and these understated moments of rapid, healing Light, bring forth a multifaceted mission: immediate quells for New life, are finally cured and released into new  form of Truth into oblivion  .

 

beautiful. estrangement