#theapexfrequency

Amphetamines. Jigsaw puzzles for the mind. Pushups for the body. Silence for the soul. Sweet silence. There’s this feeling of discomfort that’s accompanied with attending those nicer outings. The ones where you can’t get in with sweatpants on. Of course, you’re not supposed to be allowed to wear sweatpants everywhere. So there’s that. It doesn’t all have to be written down. Only the stuff that sparks creativity, or inspiration for future creativity. It’s not depressing though to find myself in a hamster wheel. Cycling over and over again, yet somehow each rotation brings me a different perspective on everything. Perspective. Beautiful. Books and other forms of content all made because of a never-ending increase of perspective.

Wisdom. Wisdom. Wisdom....Wisdom acquired from chasing a dream or passion. Discovering what is difficult and what is necessary and what hurdles one encounters running such a race. Such a marathon. My father. My brother. My mother. All living separate lives from myself. My friends. Who I am dragging along towards this destination of greatness. To be at the top of the world when it is all over. Oh one can dream. One can imagine. One can believe. A movie! A great big fantastical movie. We can get away with it. There seems to be some glaring error that I refuse to acknowledge however. There were those days spent in a small town. Working at the local diner. Flirting with the wait staff. Young and carefree. I ignored what my father said. That the only thing I was good at was working out and taking pictures of myself. “Welcome to my generation,” is what I should’ve said to my father. But I knew that was not the truth. For as many as there are vain, and self-indulgent and narcissistic, that populate this planet. There are heroes that live and breathe amongst us. Individuals who care less about showing off their best self to the rest of the world. Making themselves desirable to their designated social constructs. Their worlds. There exists the ones that simply are not interested. No fucks given. And they are happy as can be. No scoffing. No anger at the way the rest of the world thinks. Just kind of...suspicious.

A little more than a bit innocuous. Perhaps sixty percent. Then the other forty percent would have to be curiosity. There’s one thing, changing one’s own disposition to be brighter, more positive, an increase in their mental health. But more to take it further and actually change physical properties. Things that truly do exist outside of my brain. Their existence proven by the acknowledgement of thousands if not millions of other sentient creatures. Oh god. Such a desire. To alter reality in such a way. To prove oneself as the most powerful wizard in all the land. And then there is a crash of course. Because to succeed at the endeavor would also be the most humbling experience in the world. Thank god the road is long and arduous. More like tedious. More like time-consuming. More like Sisyphus! Exactly like Sisyphus. My Greek counterpart. The man who taught me how to live the happy and carefree life. No matter. Who concerns themselves with where the exceptionally talented derive their inspiration from? It just starts to feel less special than it initially did. Almost to the point where it does not warrant sharing with anyone else. A special trick of the mind to change the weight and size of a rock akin to a boulder to something more similar to a pebble. Again, it really does feel like a valuable skill to inform people of. Who wouldn’t want to make their burden lighter? But it just doesn’t work. Or maybe, it does not leave me feeling fulfilled. More so, to acquire recognition. Notoriety in the same vein of other jolly personality types that are on the tips of a very many tongue. As if that were important. Curiosity.

It all amounts to nothing in the end. A heated pool on the first floor of an expensive hotel. While your lover is off working. Making money for a corporation that provides these wonderful accommodations. Or actually “making it”. Actually making it. And the hotel room is complimentary because your name starts with an “S” and ends with a “Fury”. Either way, the pool is still heated and it feels great to dive into.

This is all just rambling. A person who thinks life is already easy wants life to be easier. Not very heroic at all. The philanthropy. The high-minded ideas of how the world could be run differently. Those are great but don’t come close to making up the essence of me. Plus there is no intellectual property on ideas unwritten. Not that I am complaining.

Reap the benefits of doing what others can’t do. Saying what others are too afraid or too timid to say. Shock the world with boldness! Show the height of freedom expressed through one happy and exuberant individual.

This indulgence was paid for. The chair was metal. My butt grew stiff from prolonged sitting, I had to readjust several times to keep the circulation flowing. All thanks to the urban, skeletal aesthetic. Could you see the pipes and wires of the ceiling? Was it uncovered? I do not remember. I was not staring at the ceiling. Two television screens were on, both playing separate channels. I had my glasses on. There was about a twenty minute wait time for the food to arrive. No bother. Happiness comes from the knowledge that your needs will be met not in the actual meeting of them. The time passed slowly. I thought a little bit. Not a lot. Not so many thoughts as there once was, populating this noggin of mine. I thought about desires of course. If there was anything else that I wanted. To get better at expression. That seemed to be the overall theme of this particular thought pattern. It was immaterial. That was good. Immaterial things were usually free. I didn’t have to spend money to get this specific desire. Good. Good good. There were women there, of course. It was a public environment. Men and women frequent such places. Places with nice atmospheres and burgers and beer. And dim lighting. Makes everyone’s features appear more attractive. Get the right shading. Who doesn’t love to be desired?

“You can’t become weird enough. You can’t become bold enough. You can’t become fast enough.” The new mantra that was formulating in my head. The burger was on it’s way. “You are not a genius.” That one was a little under a week old. It was a very hard truth to accept. Recognizing myself as a genius really aided me in a multitude of ways. Human interaction. Talking to someone and it’s flowing, but then you make a comment that reads on the other person’s face as bizarre and abnormal. Walk away telling yourself they just don’t understand you because you’re a genius. That one’s not so good. It isn’t. More like believing you’re a genius so you can feel superior to everyone else around you. Not you. I. Believing I’m a genius so I can feel superior to everyone around me. So I don’t need all the things that other people need in order to feel good about themselves. In order to feel special. In order to feel like they’re better than everyone else. Why would I need money? I am a genius. Why would I waste my time pursuing the opposite sex? They should kneel before me in awe of my beautiful and creative brain. The brain that believed it could change the very fabrics of reality on a whim.

With enough focus anything can be accomplished. Anything. It does not take a genius to know this. It does not take a genius to apply this into one’s everyday life. What it takes is a student who is willing to learn. Willing to grow. To get better and more correct. To be open to new information. Criticism. Oh my, the genius has died. Now who am I? Not famous in a world of 7 billion people. Who am I? The touch of a woman makes the question slip from mind. It does. I forget everything and want nothing more but to stay inside her and never leave. I do. But it does end. And I am back on a plane. And the rest of the world surrounds me wondering who the fuck I am. Say something interesting. Have a person cock their head in earnest amusement at your wily ways. Your quirky witticism. Exchange contact information. Become friends on facebook. And continue on doing your very best to answer that question before it’s too late. Before you die.

I've been thinking about our last phone conversation. Specifically the part where you described yourself as not being all that unique. I've come to decide that I believe you and I share very similar messages that we would like to share with the world. The presentation differs between us, but I think we're definitely suggesting the same theme.

Tyler Durden. The question I have for you, one that I am having difficulty answering myself, why is this "philosophy" so liberating to us? Why does the understanding of our lack of uniqueness make us feel freer and more in tune with the rest of the world/universe? Furthermore, how on earth will we be able to get the masses to convert to such a way of thinking? Especially the Americans. This country where everyone believes that they are special. How can we entice them with this train of thought?

I think the answer lies in humility. I think that if people learned how to play with their innate personalities, they may be able to rest easier at night with a firmer understanding of who they were in relation to everyone else. To suggest that every individual comes with their own set of skills, some easier to measure and display than others, is not ridiculous.

If there's any positive change we can affect on our species it would have to be the promotion of inner discovery is not? You, yourself, have complained about the accessibility of information now that we live in the technological age. The spoiled nature that has accompanied this advancement being your major gripe. But! If we can teach people how much fun it is to discover their own limits. Their own powers. Powers of discernment. Powers of will and fortitude. Powers of persuasion. Charm. Constitution. Intelligence. Dexterity and Wisdom. Then perhaps we can get them to care less about their unique snowflake and more about furthering their progressing selves. All for the sake of discovery.

We do not all see the same thing. Yet somehow we have been able to coexist on this planet for thousands of years, tens of thousands perhaps. Reality is not real. Reality is not real. Reality is determined by the most charismatic. The most confident. The most persuasive. The most dismissive. The most overbearing. Reality is not real. What do the birds see when they fly through the sky? Are they able to enjoy the wind through their feathers? Does this make them happy? Freedom makes one happy. Man or beast. The freedom to be oneself in this construct known as reality. Reality itself can feel like a prison. If you are not smart enough to learn how to escape it. You must always come back to it because that’s where everyone else is. Fellow inmates. And life without friends is a lonely one indeed. Communication is key for us all to succeed.  

Lex Luthor. Comma. Street Sweeper. Period. Idiot. Lower your intelligence. No expectations. No more patiently waiting. Failure. Non-starter. Womanizer. Satisfied without the conquest. Not a womanizer. Nudity. Smile at that. Fluency. Asthma attacks. Universal. Impossible. Connect with me. Please. Close my eyes and see things in threes. Three wishes. Three bitches. Mother calls on Sunday, one second longer with these pictures. Connect with me. Not potent. Hopeless with a misfiring love potion. Not deep. Not like an ocean. What the eyes can see when not focused. Loser. Drug user. Abuser. Nihilistic. Sadistic. Lustful. Slothful. Mouthful of chocolate and mothballs. Gluttonous. With a Six Pack. Haphazard. King Harry before he was crowned. Not a King. Zero bloodline. No inheritance. Movie Watcher. Film goer. Actor. Bastard. Discontinued, Disastrous, Flaccid, Rapper.

Wise men fumble. Humble. Mumbler on Tumblr. Evolve with Me.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"This is the phone call that we're supposed to have tomorrow."

"Okay. Does that mean I should be expecting a phone call tomorrow?"

"Not anymore. Since we're talking now."

"Okay. What is it we're talking about?"

"Boobs. I'm going to have to come up with a new favorite past time. Casual intercourse doesn't seem to be working out for me these days."

"Why's that?"

"The past five girls have complained about the size."

"Sorry to hear that."

"You know, Sam was saying the same thing that you said to me. About how no one gets rewarded for their existence. How it has to be expressed through a certain medium or platform. Like Eminem chose rapping. Or rapping called to him or whatever. And I'm here platform-less with the desire to be on all platforms."

"I can't tell you the best way to get what's in your head out to the public. You've been writing for the past several years now. Nothing substantial yet. Nothing of note. Maybe it's time to change that."

"No. It needs to be visual. A visual presentation is far more powerful than literature. And I know about the Bible. I know how effective it was in conveying a message. And so was Mein Kampf. But we're living in different times now. I want the message to be more literal."

"And just to be clear, that message is, 'everybody look at me, I'm Shaun Fury, I'm the greatest thing to have ever walked the earth'."

"You know that's not it."

"I do. But does everyone else? Stop looking for people to relate to you or your experience of life. If you're having fun, keep having it. Calm down and write about it. I'm sure your masterpiece will come to you eventually, whether in the form of a book or a film or whatever."

"Filmmaker. I've always wanted to be a filmmaker."

"You've always wanted to be a moviestar."

"Same thing in my book."

"You haven't written your book yet."

It’s going to be a long night. I don’t see it being very constructive either. Talking to myself is something I’ll probably always enjoy doing. Stand still. I like to dream. I like to imagine. And I like to live in reality as well. Reality is quite beautiful. There’s so many different things to focus on. Sometimes, sometimes I think I don’t have to get successful at all. That I can just live like this forever. And forever would end at like 30 to 33 haha. But I like knowing myself so intricately. Inner resources help me from becoming bored. And if put my nose to my knuckles, the scent that I smell....getting older is pretty fun. I like sunlight coming in through a window while I lie on a bed. And there’s a fan blowing overhead. And the breeze from that fan is extremely soothing. I’ll have to live in Hawaii for a short amount of time. I don’t have to ever be famous! I don’t ever have to appear in a magazine or on a talk show. You won’t ever have to learn my name. Freedommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Hawaii. I got these images of myself in Hawaii. I’ve had them for a long time. I have a lot of images of the future. I’m always around individuals. Persons. With their own history. Conscious thinkers. And we found each other. On different parts of the globe. And when someone asks me what it is that I do. I tell them, I’m writing a story about the most powerful being to have ever existed. And they nod their heads and say something like, “sounds cool”. And the topic changes. Or it doesn’t. But when the topic doesn’t change, that’s when myself and the person make a much deeper connection. And I sort of fall in love with them. Man or woman. Woman especially, of course. But we kinda disconnect ourselves from the rest of the persons that we’re with. And we find a nice secluded area to speak in private. And we talk about connectivity. And laws of attraction. And the universe as a whole. How it always goes straight back to the user. And then! If it’s a woman. We fuck. And it’s...words aren’t enough to describe it. But it’s the way sex is supposed to be performed. No screaming. No loud moans. Sensual. Intimate. Two beings merging into one.

And the next morning! Waking up in any part of the world and knowing you are one of the Immortal Ones. Ah. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. And now is the moment where the stream of endless faces comes to the forefront of my mind. All those faces. Maybe this is what I’m meant to be. Tonight I don’t feel like chasing anything at all. No dream. No future. No throne. Tonight I feel the superficiality of all those silly goals. Riches. Fame. Success. Lies. I want to be a storyteller. And no one on the planet has to read my story. I’m perfectly happy with that. Cause at the end, I do know the secret. It’s cemented firmly in my mind. I’m the universe experiencing itself. I was named Shaun Fury by my father, Mark Fury. I am The Enlightened One. I am the one who succeeded. I was never here. None of this ever happened. All stars burn out. There is no such thing as a memory.