CURRENT MISSION

Merge theory and practice.

ABOUT ME

How about an autoacheological poem with reference it favorite artists?

An Archeology of the Self: Bryan Putnam
We are all severed.
Don’t we all live the same,
severed lives?
The life that kills of old age before thirty,
and of sadness day by day.
I am the social product,
We eat the grass,
We eat the social product,
We eat the fingernails
We eat the past that we threw away.
Why must I take on more burdens,
to see you in the next life?
I want to be a radical metamorphosis.
Bug,
beast or poet.
Grandma, if I let the ants eat my heart,
how will I find expression?
I am not me,
I am you,
I am space, and time.
As such, I must be
everyone, and no one,
everything and nothing.
I am your faith,
I am also denial.
I am abstract concepts
I embody messages.
​But I am not those messages.
Wait, am I?
Shit, I think so.
I am modesty,
I am arrogance.
I must be severed.
After all, I say it, so it must be so!
But, I am also lies,
a mascaraed, and a performance.
An emulation
built by a situation
I am condemned,
to be free!
I am the person who watched Jesus bleed
on the cross—and I was quiet.
I let him suffer.
Just like I let the kids suffer
I am a cog, and an aberration.
Armed with pencil, paper and desire
I will set this world on fire.
Like Nero did to Rome.
I am the sacred source of destruction.
Living in isolation, and in bad faith.
Tell me, what composes your faith?
Is it subjective certainly with objective uncertainty?
I could not settle for any less.
Give me the food and let me grow.
I am nothing, yet I give God meaning.
But hey, how should I bargain with your soul?
Especially when the walls of pride are so high and wide
making it impossible to see the other side.
Bind my feet, admire my golden lotuses.
Deform my character,
I will be the first to admit,
my biological self is quite monotonous.
Don’t worry, my demons are kept in check,
I won’t allow eight hours to pass without poison.
A while ago, I asked myself,
How would it be to burn in hell?
I casted off the curse,
and downed it in the well.
Mom always said:
“Keep your mouth shut about where you live,
borrow changing shapes and find expression--
youth is cruel and has no remorse.
It smiles at situations which it cannot see.
Bad, bad kids,
product of no dad kids.
Now college grad kids,
trying to relate back to the skids,
and realizing the severity of being severed.
When I get home
nothing consoles me,
I am always afflicted.
I barely understand the things I say,
I want to leave, I am already there.
Existence is overwhelmingly cluster-full.
I want to set fire to this apartment.
Should I make coffee or mix the poison?
The glass snake,
that wraps around this house,
hisses at high noon.
I see its reflection daily,
shining on a twisted silver spoon.
Every day I think about stopping.
I look at the times ahead
and swear sweet love,
doing everything the same way.
Better to be stoned in the plaza
and to die from the poison, than to turn
the mill that squeezes out the juice of life,
that turns eternity into empty hours,
minutes into prisons, and time into
copper coins and abstract shit.
Where is the hammer that will come forth,
and smash this chain?
May it come from the hearts of severed men and women,
who before being men and women,
were, and have been,
severed children of the plow.
Grandma, they say God gives,
but what if he doesn’t?
I guess we better not doubt,
but what if God denies us,
in the belly of misery?
I have been wondering frequently of late,
but our beginnings never know our ends,
why we have not developed into friends.
It hurts just like everything else,
I-s-o-l-a-t-i-o-n.
Grandma I cry please believe me,
I am doing the best that I can,
I am ashamed of the things I have been put though,
I am ashamed of the person I am.
I am the severed son
of a severed mother,
with severed parents
and severed brothers.

PHILOSOPHY

Ahh I guess deontology mixed with virtue ethics, but primarily guided by consequentialism and existential arrogance.

Dlaczego jestem na Couchsurfing

HOW I PARTICIPATE IN COUCHSURFING

I've hot a big house and many roommates, there is always a couch open and beers in the fridge.

All I request is a corner.

I am fluent in Portuguese and Spanish, English not so much.

COUCHSURFING EXPERIENCE

Nothing but the buzz

Zainteresowania

Philosophy poetry oceans mountains hiking dogs cats literature music records marijuana study libraries

• cats
• dogs
• literature
• poetry
• performing arts
• ethics
• dining
• beer
• coffee
• music
• hiking
• archeology
• mountains

Muzyka, filmy i książki

Come see.

Jedna niesamowita rzecz, którą zrobiłem(-am)

Oh please.

Ucz innych, ucz się sam, udostępniaj

Ahh formalities. Subjectivity requires me to approach life as a humble pedagogue who teaches by learning.