My theory on drinking and staying up late when I had to be at work at six in the morning was "the more fun I have tonight, the happier I'll be tomorrow!"
Perhaps beer clogged the gaping holes in that logic. Because I thought that I was going to die.
Regardless, I had an amazing night. Laughing hysterically at a rather dreadlocked debate about the "revolution" on the roof of an abandoned building. Walking unafraid in the night. His long, brisk legs. Shit. Fuck. And a plethora of other four-letter words.
You know who I hate? Fucking commies and fucking hippies.
Okay. A "revolution" is not an indefinitely long utopia. It is what happens between eras. And you know what the revolution is when the dust has settled? It's THE SYSTEM. It's THE MAN. And then the next punk-ass generation will rebel against the fruit of your rebellion. You will not, cannot, and should not destroy the system. Work on it? Improve it? Point out its flaws? Please do.
A cog is not an entirely painful thing to be. Relax and make the best of it.
Also. I do not want to fucking hear about mankind returning to its roots, to the earth, etc. We are obviously some smart-ass little monkeys and we deserve the heaven AND the hell of our creations. Sure, fantasize about living off the earth and everybody holding hands, but don't dare pick up a musical instrument or ride a bicycle or brush your teeth or drink a bottle of beer.
There's a very slim chance that I'll ever know the reason -- Babel, if you insist -- but human nature deviates. Our languages and cultures are constantly moving apart, not together. We are probably devolving, but regardless, things are becoming more and more complex and that is beautiful. A toy poodle can communicate with a Mastiff two blocks away -- and you can't tell to your Mexican neighbor not to park in your driveway. This, also, is okay. Relax and enjoy it.
On the other hand, I am militant about being militant. My extremism is my own whetstone. I love to sharpen my mind with conspiracy theories and wacky snake-oil philosophy. When I need to sort out my beliefs on an issue, it's best to start out on opposite ends of a room: shorten it by a few paces each time, until you've found that sweet spot in the middle somewhere.
Haha. I fear that "Libertarianism" is the name of that sweet spot. At the moment, with Marx and Rand on their respective poles.
Please, antagonize yourself. Antagonize everyone. Shock value is so precious, and so is the inertia of passion.
Ah, stimulation and socialization. How grand. How long I've waited for these days to come. I feel like I'm in the video for the Pumpkin's 1979 sometimes. I'm going to grow up to be the President and a rockstar and a pony.
Perhaps beer clogged the gaping holes in that logic. Because I thought that I was going to die.
Regardless, I had an amazing night. Laughing hysterically at a rather dreadlocked debate about the "revolution" on the roof of an abandoned building. Walking unafraid in the night. His long, brisk legs. Shit. Fuck. And a plethora of other four-letter words.
You know who I hate? Fucking commies and fucking hippies.
Okay. A "revolution" is not an indefinitely long utopia. It is what happens between eras. And you know what the revolution is when the dust has settled? It's THE SYSTEM. It's THE MAN. And then the next punk-ass generation will rebel against the fruit of your rebellion. You will not, cannot, and should not destroy the system. Work on it? Improve it? Point out its flaws? Please do.
A cog is not an entirely painful thing to be. Relax and make the best of it.
Also. I do not want to fucking hear about mankind returning to its roots, to the earth, etc. We are obviously some smart-ass little monkeys and we deserve the heaven AND the hell of our creations. Sure, fantasize about living off the earth and everybody holding hands, but don't dare pick up a musical instrument or ride a bicycle or brush your teeth or drink a bottle of beer.
There's a very slim chance that I'll ever know the reason -- Babel, if you insist -- but human nature deviates. Our languages and cultures are constantly moving apart, not together. We are probably devolving, but regardless, things are becoming more and more complex and that is beautiful. A toy poodle can communicate with a Mastiff two blocks away -- and you can't tell to your Mexican neighbor not to park in your driveway. This, also, is okay. Relax and enjoy it.
On the other hand, I am militant about being militant. My extremism is my own whetstone. I love to sharpen my mind with conspiracy theories and wacky snake-oil philosophy. When I need to sort out my beliefs on an issue, it's best to start out on opposite ends of a room: shorten it by a few paces each time, until you've found that sweet spot in the middle somewhere.
Haha. I fear that "Libertarianism" is the name of that sweet spot. At the moment, with Marx and Rand on their respective poles.
Please, antagonize yourself. Antagonize everyone. Shock value is so precious, and so is the inertia of passion.
Ah, stimulation and socialization. How grand. How long I've waited for these days to come. I feel like I'm in the video for the Pumpkin's 1979 sometimes. I'm going to grow up to be the President and a rockstar and a pony.