knowledge and the inductive paradox

yellowing paper hides all of my feelings behind a creeping wall, in the darkness of a nursery, so that my brain is a bunch of yellow post-it notes with messages scrawled in black pen, cursive; music has eaten me alive, i hate being a pretentious fuck about music, but honestly, "the reason" by hoobastank got nominated for a grammy? that is quite possibly the worst song in the world, taking cheesy teenage-prom power ballads to the extreme, i heard that in the seventies they used to end every prom with "stairway to heaven" by led zep, how much cooler were people back then, how much cooler was life back then?; when you take away all the bullshit about money and how the government affects things, medicine is truly one of the most altruistic paths one can take in life, and i thank all the doctors of the world, the real doctors who care, wharton has no such people, that is a fundamental difference between business and medicine, and it makes me sick to my stomach, it disgusts me, it revolts me, i respect pre-meds much more than fucking undergrad finance majors; i'm a fucking undergrad finance major, it's terrible, what if i have to resort to my back-up plan and become a corporate whore? i don't know if i could deal with that, scratch, yes i could, i know i could, i'd be unhappy, but i could, and that's the saddest thing in life; yellow cat's eyes staring at me through the yellow fog of the night, the yellow fog of the city, the yellow fog of t.s. eliot's fractured youth, and i'm wearing a yellow raincoat with a canary perched on my shoulder, as i squeeze a banana as if it were a golden gun; nobody can ever know anything, so why bother? it's gonna hurt me. it's gonna kill when you desert me -- reason, sense, logic, order, structure, rules, models, theories, paradigms, science, naturalism, religion, free will, love, marriage, children, money, fame, power, sex, drugs, music, beauty -- gone, because we don't know anything about anything; do i have an original thought in my head? does originality exist? are patterns really patterns or are they coincidences? what is humor?; spiders crawling through the tubes in my brain, spinning cobwebs on my mind to catch every idea, every thought through the interface of mind and body, the spiderweb snags all the misfiring synapses too, every random thought, it's always there and never fails, the mind-body transition is seamless, too seamless, is there a duality at all? why hello there, God;