I wonder what its like to live a life where you want the world to end. Where you want to put a stop to all sadness or happiness. Every few years you hear rumors that everything will stop — that we are out of control and beyond all reason.
And what must that be like, to be so disappointed?
I’m sure the little things are alright. I am sure that you can still pet your dog, or glance out your side window while driving and see a beautiful bird in mid-flap, soaring by you. I am sure your lunch still tastes good. And that it’s nice to take your shoes off and lay in bed. Plus you can still look forward to orgasms… But to lose your belief, to lose some fundamental faith? What must that be like? And then, why even get up in the morning? Why even stay sober?
It must be disappointing when, like the day after your 10th birthday, you get up and life goes on. Mornings are still foggy. People still stop at starbucks on their way to work, and they don’t seem to care that the sky has fallen, and shown its skeleton — and that there’s nothing there. Only you see it. Nothing left at all. Nothing.
I don’t think that I have a problem with this. But I think some people do. In thirty years, where will I be? I’ve seen now that the super-geniuses can grasp and implement like nothing else. And while it’s magical when that happens, ITS FUCKING REAL. I suppose my fault was that I thought I would always make typos and have to test functions that I just wrote. But the fact of the matter is, everything is well within grasp and it seems the only thing stopping anyone is my own lack of focus. I must have wasted 3 hours just walking in circles imaginging lines of code that I was too tired to write. But it’s all right there, within grasp. The time taken to write anything is well less than the time taken to decide what it is you want to write.
one thing I don’t get is why anyone gets out of bed. about 7 or 8 years ago… I suppose I found my answer. I want to keep things going, keep things interesting… I want to do the things I do because that’s the best way to keep challenged. It’s a play-dough world. But what if you didn’t think it mattered, that nothing was worth doing or that your job was horrible and that was the best you could do?
I can’t imagine what that must be. I can’t imagine what it must be to be the downtrodden of the earth, to be the remnants of something else. To always be 5 minutes off. I mean, there isn’t any perfection. It’s all shit. We’re all lego pieces, stuff that we have lying around that we use as best we can. There’s nothing inherently good or bad about anything. We just have the morals we have because that’s part of the challenge. That’s part of the picture. And even if there isn’t a picture it’s just part of who you are.
Sometimes I don’t understand myself. I think I lost something within the last few months, or maybe a year or two ago, and I just didn’t notice. In a way though, once you touch upon it, there’s really nothing there. You’re standing on your own two feet. And while the mirror of other people’s faces is your own mirror — when they dance or wonder — you respond… so the puppetshow is alive and well, but that’s not what I had thought would be there. It’s like how in the process of learning chess the board will get so big, and other times get so small. It’s a matter of what’s in the box. And yet in the end, you need desire. I can’t account for that. Can you? Men and women greedy in different ways — and need to be greedy in different ways. You need to have unfathomable connections to things like volcanos, unicorns and the bottom of the ocean. And I guess that’s the only way to walk under a continually shattering sky.
Losing faith isn’t like anything actually changes, it’s more like finding yourself in the wrong parallel universe. We’re just sort of trapped in between slides of ourselves. And then when like at the end of a sonata we have the recapitulation, we return home and find out that it’s incomplete, and not right.
You know I hate Lord of the Rings. But that’s Frodo coming home. He’s left and returned to the physical location but unlike Dorothy he can’t go home.
Because there isn’t a home for him anymore.
At times like this, I suppose we need to be the brave travelers of the world. We have to be the sundry spirits of Xanadu or some kind of nonsense like that. the alchemist, whatever. Alchemy is a matter of spirit, a matter of individual transcendence… but that’s the same kind of psychotic misalignment those mediveal alchemists had — they mistook spirit for something physical. Iimagine Rene Descartes or some such philosopher digging through corpses looking for the seat of the soul. And yet all they find is more fibroblasts. Blood, collagen. What does this seat even look like? Madmen have searched through hundreds of dead bodies, eagerly cutting into the dead criminals looking for something they know not what.
That’s the wonder of Star Trek you know. They are messages in a bottle zipping around a deadly serious and completely apersonal universe being hysterical about themselves. I’m sure Herman Hesse’s Stepphenwolf is laughing Mozart right now. That sounds about right. So many directions I can go in! All of them amount to sand though. It’s your own trip. And beneath that, is more of your own trip. That you have a trip, or that you don’t have one. It’s so meta it’s the next Hipster Kitty.
But at the same time it’s like, you can do something about it. so why not “go green” or whatever. Save the Earth! Or fuck the Earth, the Earth can take care of itself lets just drive our cars around and be stupid, cuz that’s the most fun. I really look around and see nothing but that, and I despise it. All those commercials on tv, where everyone just parties and parties. Cuz I guess only so many of us sit in an office, so only so many of us get that — but everyone, and anyone can and should party.
Pointless.
but I guess I prefer to sit in my room and listen to music and stare at my navel. That’s what I did today. And oh, sometimes I crammed small bits of electronic material ushered carefully down fragile tubes to generate more fragile “documents” so as to appease people who were convinced by me (mostly) to pay us hundreds of dollars, if not thousands, to have.
It sounds kind of goofy but that’s only until you realize that it’s not like the money matters either.
This is what ppl do when they have too much time on their hands.
This is what i do.
See what happens when I watch 80s high school comedies about getting laid? I guess this is the same thing. Me laughing at some guy’s penis stuck in the wrong place.
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