my taste buds have been incinerated with a stale taste whenever i try to eat something. the occurrence is unusual and it seems that a river of shit has flowed inside of my opened mouth, it must be the cafeteria food that i eat every day; breakfast, lunch, dinner.
staleness is a bitter word, more bitter is the process of mundane thinking or thinking with no self-awareness or with no moral thought in general.
for instance, the acknowledging of people to think that any country other than their own is worse off than theirs. for example, that there is nothing wrong with the united states, the chinese government is bad, because a country is underdeveloped means that a developed country is far superior to the underdeveloped. nothing is superior, we are never countries that proclaim to be an uber mensch, we are far from it. in my eyes, we are underdeveloped, because it seems that time and time again, we are bred with indifference to everything that seems so much more alien than what we are used to seeing. we are a nation of immigrants, so why is there this indifference to every other country other than our own? there is nothing that is american, because america is a new nation, a nation borne from the blood of others. i understand why so many people leave, because of the indifference and total disrespect in general of a culture that is different.

as i write, the light in my room is dim, and the lights of my roommate's quarters are turned completely off. completely is an adverb describing the mode of how off my roommate's lights are. the stuffed teddy bear rests on my bed staring at the wall and the bareness of the ceiling. the same stuffed teddy bear that i go to sleep with every night and that i hold, because it shelters me while i am here and tells me to forget that i am a human that is indifferent to others. i am human yes, and i am scared of this realization. scared that i too, like every other human have lied, and done things so out of my nature. i am unaware of being indifferent and at the same time, aware of being indifferent. i read octavio paz again and underlined the stanzas that rang in my ears,
some of them erotic. some of them i want to make love with and to stand above my chair naked and read them to the walls. some of them i love so much that i try to imitate them, but i cannot fathom the genius that it took to write them. of one of the underlined stanzas, one of them reads;

your skirt of corn ripples and sings,
your skirt of crystal, your skirt of water,
your lips, your hair, your glances rain
all through the night, and all day long
you open my chest with your fingers of water,
you close my eyes with your mouth of water,
you rain on my bones, a tree of liquid
sending roots of water into my chest.

personification of nature into a woman, body of a woman, pablo neruda, i could sing that song to my lover every night, just before sleep. beauty of nature, cornucopia of breath, of life, of death,
my sweet elixir. i will sleep this night, i will dream, with the stuffed teddy bear in my arms, i, embracing it, and the laughter of silence will ring in my lobes, and i will breathe and rest heavily. i will be asleep and unconscious, my mind will wander planes, plains, and fields. i will be on and off from seperate realities. i will awake and i will brush my teeth, and maybe have a morning shit.i will eat the breakfast, lunch, and dinner again and be brought back to that taste of staleness that plagues me every day. i have two other blogs, this is my first, and this is the one that i want to update more. i will fill it with prose, poems, and thought. this is my journal. this journal is to who i am singing, i write freely. oh journal, oh blog, permit me to write freely.
write to me so that i keep running from indifference...