My brain has been white washed. There's nothing there. It's like somebody came in for lunch and took the furnishings with them when they left after dinner while I was in the bathroom. Today I kept laughing at the thought of a "race" of Asians. Is that the right nomenclature for that? It just made me think of a race of mole men. A race of super men. And all the other races of things that have graced headlines over the years.
It's amazing really. The only way to honestly cope with this new situation has been to dull my awareness of everything outside of it until the sole focus becomes the situation. If I make myself into this thing that exists for 18 hours out of the day then the thing that exists for the remaining 6 ceases to be and the conflict is resolved. Sure some blood gets shed, but Stalin's cohort put it best about the eggs and omelets and things before they got executed. At least I think I remember them doing that. Is there anything sexy about living in 1984? What about a Brave New World? I think the answers to those two questions are no and yes in no specific order. That's how life becomes manageable. If you think about it the best way to end a struggle is to simply eliminate one half of the combatants. Certainly if the struggle is what perpetuates the combatants lives than you'll end up with genocide by that logic. If you kill off everything you're fighting against you'll have to generate new things to fight against from within you.
In a society more interested in peace than war, I suppose eliminating one half of the disagreeing parties would be a means to an end. If there's no one to argue against then there's no argument. Plain and simple. The hardest part about figuring out where I fit into my own life now that my life is 75% owned by a company that wouldn't give two shits if I died by getting gutted by industrial meat hooks as long as they weren't liable to pay for damages or my funeral is trying to figure out if I'm worth eliminating or if the company is what needs to be eliminated.
Someone sent me a jesus themed text message yesterday. In fact someone else sent me a text message with the words "i hope and pray things turn out." What the fuck does that even mean. I'm sorry, excuse my language. I'm just wretchedly upset right now having recalled that second text message. Here's an idea: lets not hope, lets stop praying, and lets start doing. I am so sick and tired of hearing that bull about hopes and prayers and "I've been there before, I know excatly what you're going through"s. How about we simply appraise the situation from a logical, rational standpoint. How about societal compression. How about GDP that won't quit, but somehow wages don't keep pace with inflation or cost of living (are those the same things). How about getting more bang for your buck and the actual cost of that extra bang you're getting. The bottom lines at companies that somehow don't seem to rise nearly as quickly as profit margins.
I know everyone wants to succeed and somebody will get the short shrift (I'm full of slanted definitions today, but I hope that's the right word). At any rate, I guaran-damn-tee you the bullshit expected of some of the formerly menial jobs that have somehow crept up in demographic from appropriate for teens as a base to appropriate for 40 year olds with 6 years of experience as their base, suck more and leave less humanity in the shells of the bodies daily broken open to sell you your fucking bottle of snapple quickly and efficiently is more than what was required when you, mr. 50 year old been there done that, were punching spring loaded keys on a giant slab of plastic and metal with ink ribbon.
And I haven't found him yet. The motor is still going, but I'm just trying that much harder to hold it down no matter how much it knocks around and wrecks up the place. The week of industry came. The week of industry went. And to show for it, all I have for you is a stilted diatribe about work and a partial understanding of things that don't actually exist and a burning urge to take the steel to good use on the neighbors. Do not fucking talking to me you fucking fuck I will kill you. It's becoming more and more amazing sometimes how thin the tethers can get that hold me to a behavior steps away from thought patterns born into my infrastructure and known better and more intimately than anything learned and what's next. I'll dig them out yet.
That picture. That picture up there? It's a short whiskey. Apple top. Try it. You'll love it too. I want to feel like I should say it's the only thing that makes me feel really warm and fuzzy these days, but I'd be flat lieing if I did. And California totally sucks. Mainly because it's still twilight and happy and balmy there and I hate them for that. That's the real reason why the east coast is more pissed off than the west coast. The east coast knows. The west cost pretends to not know. Screw California.
///Wildchild - "The Wonder Years" I just wish I knew.
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