MARS?

"When you’re writing, you’re trying to find out something which you don’t know. The whole language of writing for me is finding out what you don’t want to know, what you don’t want to find out. But something forces you to anyway.  I’ve been compelled in some ways by describing my circumstances to learn to live with them". 

James Baldwin said that on an interview for The Paris Review, i could only read the first part of the interview because i don't have a subscription , I wish I was subscribed  both to the Paris Review and The New Yorker or is it The Times? I can't quite remember right now. I've been carrying something in my neck, what is it? I've been trying to find that out, which I haven't, but I need to in order to live. What part of myself its trying to hide it away? Part of my discomfort comes from the world, it's maddening absurdity, it feels like everything is a joke, or an image and in the mean time horrible things happen while we are laughing. Terrible things have happened before, and will happen again but the issue is that we are so terribly distracted, and we think we know things and we know nothing and speak of things we know nothing about: "I saw this" "I hear that" "I read that this is..." corrupting the world with each word. Filling, polluting the air with words we don't know or mean. It is terribly upsetting. And here I am, no better making a video about my clothes for a magazine, I felt so ridiculous, so stupid, I judged myself: Why did you do it then? It was work, but are you the tiger in a circus? that roars just for the applause? Perhaps, I don't think there's anything wrong with what I did, but I relate it to an absurd culture that takes nothing, and is nothing. I am simply so mad, so angry at the world right know, I feel like screaming and somehow I tell myself that I can't. Instead I make a roaring sound out loud. I feel so ANGRY. So absurd, what am I feeding myself with these days? Why are we talking about the antichrist? who cares!!! Are we making ourselves better human beings? are we at least attempting to live? Actually  live and honor the life we have? Are we struggling and conscious of it? Or are we really running away with a mask that displays pictures so you don't burst into tears of how despairing our situation really is? Where are we running to? MARS? I wish I could scream a big: SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Could you leave all of this behind?? all of which its also yourself? how could you even fathom living outside yourself? we are part of the mycelium, what are you even saying? You couldn't, you would & will die! And still we walk this earth as if we could live without it, as if death isn't filing her nails waiting for the second to drop so it can slit your throat. Why are we acting soulless when soul is all we are? when nature and matter is all we see? why are we watching instead of seeing? And what burdens me is that I'm here attempting so much and carrying the world on my shoulders as if it matters, as if I could save it, as if I could save my parents. Who do I think I am? And why am I neglecting myself trying to grasp a world that isn't mine to save? If I can only save myself???