Plant Root

Work wears me out. I’m gonna hit the gym in a few.

The vicissitudes of certainty and doubt. These undulations ebb and flow as I continually plant knowledge gathered from the uprooting of doubt.

One needs to be certain of something before any reference and relation can be held to it. Without certainty, skepticism and doubt will lead to eventual nihilism and nonsense, and no knowledge will be gained. However, if one holds too firmly to certainty, he is likely to grow in self-deception. I often find myself at a cross roads of balance.


I need to apply myself to more focused ratiocinations. I should choose a few topics within a few subjects to spend my time exploring. Recently my mind has been all over the place, and no specific cultivation has taken place.

I need to make time to write. These little entries are nice and all, but I have so much to get out and expound upon. Too tired.

The Brothers Karamazov is an amazing book. Highly psychological. Highly philosophical. Highly recommended. Next book is Nausea by Sartre. Just arrived in the mail a few days ago. When I’m finished with that one I’ll be picking up Brave New World by Huxley.

Write more later. Gym time.

Free ever.

When the man is right, his world will be right. Many think of changing the world, but few think of changing themselves. You do not get what you want, you get what you are.

These few sentences encapsulate a large part of my world view.

Man is not free. He is a slave to himself- his vices, prejudices, knowledge, ignorance, desires. Only when we learn to become master’s of ourselves can we become master’s of our world, that is, our life.

True freedom is achieved through knowledge and self-awareness. This is achieved through continuous study of the world and ardent introspection.


I’ve noticed a common theme that has developed over the course of the past few years. The theme is that of indifference. It revolves around mastering the self-control to act and react when it is most appropriate.

People find it insensitive when I ask why they get so upset when someone does something to them, or does something that they don’t like, or says something that rubs them the wrong way. People should not react to thoughts or actions that are negative, or have a negative effect on them. By reacting, one endorses or legitimizes that thought or action in themselves, and in the other person. Instead, one should maintain an indifference.

Gotta go. More thoughts later.


As much as I knock society, I haven’t been very good at coming up with my own viable prescriptions for the problems. I will take time, however long it takes, to expatiate on the ideal society. In this way I think I can make realistic assertions about the feasibility of such societal ideals.

Hm. Going to a vegetarian cuisine restaurant with few buds and my sis. I believe its called “woodlands”. Great indian restaurant.

Last night after the gym we had a pasta and baked beans dinner at my sisters. Afterwards we sat around and discussed life, philosophy, society, goals, success, love, love lost, relationships, ideals, etc. It was a truly amazing experience. Almost like a dinner society. It made me want to surround myself with more people like them… people that gave thought to the details of life, who cherished how they spent every moment of their waking life. People who actually put thought into their day, their free moments. Who make the most of the spectrum of feelings at their disposal. etc. I want sophistication and culture and intellect. Anyway… I’m so tired, and dinner is calling.

Lake Weekend.

This weekend I accompanied Haley to visit her family at their lake house in Nancy KY.

Long story about Haley and I. I’ll explain when I’m not tired and I don’t have work at 8am.

It was fun. Great time reading and soaking up sun on the lake.

I want to become refined. Sophisticated. Intellectually so. Cultured. What do these things mean? More later.

I feel like our culture is recycled. Society is recycled. Ideas, style, designs, systems. Its all reused. No more originality. No new material, new content; just material being reused, recombined, resynthesized.

We need people who will reinvent. Like.. Create from scratch. Pose new problems, new dilemmas.

I’m reading the Brothers Karamazov. Holy shit is that an amazing book.


I had a great weekend. On Friday I got out of work and went to the movie Inception. Fabulously thrilling movie. I thought i started off a bit slow and erratic, but it picked up after the first half hour. Afterwards my sister, Ravi and I went to Cafe Coco and ate food and had good conversation. I get home around 315 and go to bed.

At 350 I hear yelling and banging on our door… like crazed bloody murder. I wait and try to make out the mayhem, listening in for any coherent message. It’s my room mate and he’s yelling crazy shit about me. I listen carefully and creep out of my room, trying to figure out what door this is coming from. Without turning on the lights, I quietly walk towards the kitchen and see a figure on the back porch. I stealthily step outside into the dark and the adrenaline takes over. My room mate is smashed, black out drunk. I stiffen and watch him in the shadows momentarily before breaking his sottish silence. “What the fuck are you doing?” My voice is low, forceful, irritated.

His drunken preoccupations melt away as his dull wan eyes meander towards mine. His black out rage quickly turns to a shameful confusion as he slowly gains traction of the situation.

I was not in a position to wait around for him to get it together so I dismiss his rambling explanations and order him inside. As the epinephrine wears off, a piercing pain occurs to me, followed by the realization that I’m barefoot and treading on a piles of shard glass. Holding the screen door open, I reach inside and flick on the porch light. The screen door in my hand is noticeably bent at such an odd degree that I’m left wondering how its still attached to the frame. Its window appears to be missing, which accounts for the sharded glass penetrating the soles of my feet. I also notice that the door frame is split pretty severely.

Skipping along…

While my room mate attempts to tinker and unsuccessfully lock the back door, I explain in my most rudimentary tone why our door is broken and why there is glass everywhere, in my feet, in his hands, in our kitchen. He refuses to hear what I’m saying and only repeats in a low disappointed voice, almost to himself, “I didn’t do this. This is not good. This is not good at all. Oh boy. Not good. Uh oh. I didn’t do this. Not good at all.” Being the simple creature that my room mate is, this drunk charade almost made laugh, and would have if it wasn’t 430 in the morning and I wasn’t bleeding out the feet.

Long story short, after fifteen minutes of him being drunk and stupid and loud, and not going to bed, and getting aggressive with me, I flip out, and go crazy, and threaten to lose my cool, and order him to go to bed using my meanest battle vocals. We stared at each other, motionless, red in the face and he utters in a drunken slur, “You better get a handle on that,” and turns to go to his room before slamming the door in an awkward attempt to show his disapproval.

With a nervous relief I sighed and sought refuge under my covers.

On Saturday I went to las paletas, a latin American Popsicle store… the Popsicles were amazing… to die for. They had the most exotic flavors… Mexican caramel, avocado, rice, strawberry raspberry, kiwi, cafe, etc. Cream or ice. It was amazing. From there we went to costco and bought groceries…

Following costco we tried finding this store called the green wagon… its a really hipster/ hippy convenient store… they refill empty bottles with detergent or shampoo or soap or whatever… they also have all locally produced goods such as clothing and art and appliances and other random stuff.

After that we picked up some friends and went to Cheekwood botanical gardens to see the famed blown glass artist Chihuly’s exhibit. Unfortunately it closed at 430 on Saturday. We wanted to see the exhibit during the day with natural light and in the evening magically illuminated. It’s suppose to be numinously divine. Since that was closed we just drove around the country side, through Percy Warner park, and admired some mansions dotted along the way. Magnificent day, perfect temperature.

That evening Haley’s sister and room mate were celebrating their birthday’s at a sushi restaurant… so I couldn’t pass it up. I went with Ravi… had octopus and squid sushi… mixed with a variety of other tasty fish like salmon, yellow fin and eel. it was pretty darn good.

After dinner I picked up beer, took a shower, and met up with them at their house for her birthday party. It was small but fun. I stayed with a few bros for awhile, entertained some people with dialogue and my two beer queer antics then departed for a part with my frat bros. I brought Haley and her sister along, against my best judgment. Haley had taken shots of tequila and she gets insane when she drinks. Considering we hadn’t talked too much the past week I know she had a lot pent up, but I thought I would give her the benefit of the doubt. Bad Idea. We get to the house and I walk in, screaming and yelling with enthusiasm as I’m greeted warmly by my bros. About 30 min in I find out Haley starts losing it. Long story short, she starts having an emotional break down and insists on leaving. I was reluctant until her voice started cracking and I could hear the anger seething through her teeth. I said lets go… but she wanted to go out the back door… because… she was upset and… couldn’t get herself together for 20 ft. Whatev. As soon as we walk out the door she begins flipping out. screaming, yelling profanities,

I go back inside and say fuck it. She’s nuts. I don’t need this. Ravi comes to me 10 min later explains shes out front. I go out front and cautiously approach her with concern. I ask what’s up, what happened, etc…She flips out, attacks me. Again, I say fuck it and drive her home.

I come back to the party and joke about her womanly hysteria. Soon after we make plans to walk 5 blocks to Dan McGuiness.

Long story short, some underage girls can’t get in so a group got together to go downtown. I hop in their cab and head to Rippy’s.

Eventually we abandon Broadway and walk to Lonnies in printers ally. I’m drunk and get adventurous. I also lose all fiscal responsibility and head for an ATM. Munchies. I walk outside with Ravi. A man with a hot dog stand conveniently awaits me. What was once a crisp $20 bill is now a crumbled sweaty ball of paper that I shove into the vendors hand. I grab a hot dog, drench it in condiments. He hands me what looks like change and I stuff it into my pocket. We then proceed to walk next door into a Jazz Club. A large black bouncer awaits us. No cover. Sweet. I flash my ID. He inspects then gives me the OK. My 20 year old friend coolly hands over his ID. I strike up conversation about food. “Do you have food in this joint?” I asked intently, trying to sway his attention from my underage friend. He responds, and I nod and smile as we inch our way further inside. He returns the ID, we slowly breaking the cordial conversation and disappear into the crowd. We’re in. Woot.

I don’t remember the rest really… I remember I wanted to get a cab… but my friend didn’t want to pay 12 bucks…. so he convinced me to walk 7 miles across the city back to my car. Initially it was a good idea. Fellow drunkards kept us company along the way as they walked back to parking lots or their apartments along the string. Before long though we were pretty alone, and it was pretty late, and I was pretty not-drunk-but-still-drunk… like hungover, and feeling miserable. I stopped at PitaPit and entertained the entire establishment, staff and customers alike, with my curious antics. The food was good company until it was gone.

I remember I kept wanting to get to my car, where ever that was, really fast so I’d take off in full sprint for a block, leaving my friend confused and running and yelling after me. This would soon turn into exhaustion as my drunken wings became inflamed,  and the breath of cool air turned to fire belching from the lungs, and I’d collapse on the sidewalk, or under a random tree, for a nap, totally sapped of energy. My friend would come upon me short of breath and poke me. Sometimes he’d nap along with me for a few minutes. He always kept pushing me to keep pushing on, so we’d get up and do it over again.

WE walked past a marriot hotel at one point. He mentioned air-conditioning and I shot right through the lobby and into a dimly lit breakfast area strewn with couches, TV’s, and fruit. Feeling like a clever bum, I kicked off my shoes and made myself at home. Ravi found me and giggled at the hilarity of the situation. We watched the news. Some guy walks in and Ravi tries rouses me by convincing me that he was security coming to get me. In a half sleep I pop up, throw on my shoes and dive in the shadows. I creep along the breakfast hall area and stop to pluck myself a apple from the fruit basket before slipping out onto the balcony and over the railing into the street. Don’t remember much. This was like mile 4. I do remember having to urinate at one point. Because it was 3 in the morning and not a soul was in sight, I thought it was a fantastic idea, being in the middle of the city and everything, to try out ‘Pee walking’. This just consisted of me continuing my usual pace while urinating in various directions with an artistic talent that was lent to the sidewalk designs that followed.

All I know is I made it back to my car at some point, and I felt sober. So I drove the remaining 3 miles home.

The remainder of my weekend….Too much to detail: wake up. Explore east ‘Hipster Nashville with my sister and Ravi. Go to green cow veggie restaurant.

haley comes over, apologizes. make up sex.

That afternoon: I Golf. It was awesome. and beautiful.


Call haley.


My weekend.


I didn’t save much free time for myself today. I need to be much more efficient with my time… First: go to bed earlier. I can’t believe I’m still up.

I need to go to the gym earlier and eat dinner earlier. How am I suppose to have any free time to read or write if all I do is work, lift and eat?

I haven’t talked to the girlfriend… although she contacted our mutual friend and expressed her hysteria. He asked me how he should respond… this got me a little upset. Upset in that, what the fuck is she doing. Give me space, woman. Get a life… stop thinking in crisis mode. Everything is alright…I just need time to breath and collect my thoughts. We’re young here… its not like we’re married or have been dating for years. Chill the fuck out.


I read news articles allll day I work. I have a program on my iphone that allows me to listen to free audio books. All the free ones are older, written by authors that have long since past away. I mostly download the philosophy or psychology ones.

I also have this program that lets me download ebooks… again, only old and outdated…. but they are my favorite anyway. I should cease reading the news and begin asking questions… and find books to answer those questions… and read them. Thats what I should do. The last book I did that with was Radical Empiricism by William James regarding consciousness and epistemology and experience. Fascinating…. and I still need to finish.

The news seems so impending recently… we are at the precipice of worldwide calamity and everything seems to be converging simultaneously. Or thats how the news likes to portray it to invoke an emotional response from the readership in order to sell their paper. Anyway…

My eyes are heavy and burning. Bed time. Night.


Men go abroad to wonder at the heights of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motions of the stars, and they pass by themselves without wondering. ~St. Augustine

I need problems in my life. I mustn’t think that I’ve got it figured out, or that my current path or methods are best. I need to recognize dilemmas and confront problems that don’t seem so obvious.

I realized that, when I am happy, I become content. Not that I cannot become content with certain pursuits, but it seems that my zest for certain pursuits begins to dwindle when happiness and contentment come over me.

Girlfriends really are draining. I often think that I will be single for the rest of my life. In my mind there is a women that is without maintenance, without upkeep. She doesn’t rely on my efforts to make her happy, nor does she seek them out.

My life recently…

I’ve had this girlfriend for some time now…. a couple months. Early on I perceived some emotional baggage, potential issues that may pose as problems later on in the relationship, but I overlooked them with an optimistic eye. I had hoped that these issues would soon allay as our bonds deepened for one another. I’m not sure that happened and I’m sorta done with exercising patience. I don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s happiness. If I make you sad because you expected differently from me, because I didn’t make you happy, or I failed to cuddle, or I lacked affection a few nights in a row, then I’m not sure I want to be in a relationship with you. Too much pressure. I’m in the opinion that my happiness comes from within, despite circumstances, despite the emotional investment.

The bottom line is that I really don’t want to be with this person. Primarily because I am not attracted to who this person thinks she is. I am attracted to someone else… someone she could be. Unfortunately she doesn’t see that person, and I don’t have the patience for it. Her critical attitude, complaining and low self esteem do not bring me up, nor do they make her any more attractive to me. Instead, they reaffirm negative perceptions and draw criticism into my thoughts. I don’t want to spend time with someone who isn’t capable of seeing the best in the world, in others, or in themselves.

I recognize that this comes off as hypocritical. I should see the best in her, and I do, but her attitude has an insidious grip on my state of being, on my mood. It saps my energy and doesn’t leave me in a better place. I’d much rather devote my time and energy to someone who is earnestly searching for the best in themselves and outside themselves. Maybe I’m suppose to lead this girl there… but I just haven’t the patience.


Work is good… and when I say good, I mean monotonous and boring. However, it allows me to cognize and discuss thoughts with my fellow interns. I always have something on my mind.


I’ve been reading a great deal about the negative impact on computers and the internet and the positive impacts of books recently.

I need chaos in my life. Homeostasis must NEVER be reached. I must always throw off the balance, perceived or real, and approach life as a crisis to be solved. Only in this way does life become meaningful and challenging. What life is there for me at the moment? Working, interning, cultivating future aspirations and networking ties. I am bleeding my critical thinking and creative insights dry on a daily basis. There is no intellectual stimulation within my routine.

The occasional news article, or chapter from a book, but nothing substantial to dwell on. No problems that need solving. I should learn economics more fully. I should read Bertrand Russell and William James, and master logic and prose and poetry and painting. Why don’t I?

I don’t want a girlfriend. This girl has sapped my attention, my free time, or what little free time I’ve had. And for what? Emotional pleasure? Ephemeral gratification? I would like my energy expenditures to be more rewarding. What is a relationship that yields pleasure, but no great intellectual, or emotional, insights? Where is her curiosity? Ugh. I’m done with it. I’ve decided now, in this moment.

I need to journal more. I’ve had little time to myself, and I should have all the time in the world. Summer is the occasion for personal development, for the cultivation of internal growth. Working out, getting fit, is wonderful and all, but the mind must find similar attention and stimulation.

I’ve been frustrated recently. I should journal out all these thoughts, all the daily occurrences. I will… everyday. Starting today. Night.


“It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.”

“Citizenship in a Republic,”
Speech at the Sorbonne, Paris, April 23, 1910

Teddy Roosevelt