Yeah, I've been on a massive death trip lately. Everything looks pretty grim. People are starting to get to me. It's coming out in these journals. It's a trait I picked up from my old man. The hermit who thinks everyone is an asshole and has nothing to do with them. If you pick a hobby and work most of your days you never have to interact with anybody. When you don't interact with people, they can't lie, cheat, or steal from you. Granted, you may miss out on some incredible people but it's much safer. I've easily got 4000 pieces of music just sitting around and waiting for some company. My movie collection is probably around 500. My closet is filled to the brim with all kinds of books I haven't read. This isn't some kind of bragging session "My Collection is bigger than YOUR collection!" type deal. Just some options I have aside from talking to anyone. My uncle has a place down in Kentucky and I'm thinking of shacking up there for a few years. Hopefully, the Piggly Wiggly is still open. What a great name. Only in the south.
It's just really terrifying to know that you are never going to have it as easy as your folks did. I know I have been dwelling on this for sometime, but I can't get it out of my mind. Even if I spend the rest of my life paying back student loans, there is not much I can get out of it. Sure, you may find a job that pays 40,000 a year instead of the one that pays 30,000 but more bills will find their way to your mailbox. It's some kind of never ending cycle. Well, it ends for YOU when you die, but your kin usually has to pick up the tab. So you got these heavy ass chains to walk around with all day. It sucks all of the life out of me and all I think about is escape. Death is freedom from that shit. A small group of people have made it impossible for a much larger group of people to enjoy being alive. The joy I get from music, film, and literature barely keeps me from puttin' two to the dome. Say I were to miraculously stumble upon a girlfriend. The poison of career would seep into that unity and destroy it. Exactly what happened to my dad. Work will fucking kill you. Not the hunter/gathering type work. Working your life away for other people and their ends. It's killing me everyday. You know it's reached critical mass when you don't take drugs or drink rarely. The cheap thrill of the high isn't enough to get the labor poison out. The thought of working the next day or the day after just eliminates the "vibe". So why indulge in the first place? It's just a waste of what you get so little of every Friday. Money is freedom and it's truly sad. Coats my day with malaise every single day. These are some evil times. Just step back and look around. It's very strange. Maybe I'm strange for not excepting defeat. I wish I was ignorant and happy with my measly trinkets the master has so kindly given me. It's not working out and I need an exit.
soundtrack of the day
Jackie O Motherfucker "Magick Fire Music"
It's just really terrifying to know that you are never going to have it as easy as your folks did. I know I have been dwelling on this for sometime, but I can't get it out of my mind. Even if I spend the rest of my life paying back student loans, there is not much I can get out of it. Sure, you may find a job that pays 40,000 a year instead of the one that pays 30,000 but more bills will find their way to your mailbox. It's some kind of never ending cycle. Well, it ends for YOU when you die, but your kin usually has to pick up the tab. So you got these heavy ass chains to walk around with all day. It sucks all of the life out of me and all I think about is escape. Death is freedom from that shit. A small group of people have made it impossible for a much larger group of people to enjoy being alive. The joy I get from music, film, and literature barely keeps me from puttin' two to the dome. Say I were to miraculously stumble upon a girlfriend. The poison of career would seep into that unity and destroy it. Exactly what happened to my dad. Work will fucking kill you. Not the hunter/gathering type work. Working your life away for other people and their ends. It's killing me everyday. You know it's reached critical mass when you don't take drugs or drink rarely. The cheap thrill of the high isn't enough to get the labor poison out. The thought of working the next day or the day after just eliminates the "vibe". So why indulge in the first place? It's just a waste of what you get so little of every Friday. Money is freedom and it's truly sad. Coats my day with malaise every single day. These are some evil times. Just step back and look around. It's very strange. Maybe I'm strange for not excepting defeat. I wish I was ignorant and happy with my measly trinkets the master has so kindly given me. It's not working out and I need an exit.
soundtrack of the day
Jackie O Motherfucker "Magick Fire Music"
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
You're right, our lives seem somewhat parallel. Say, you don't happen to have a weird birthmark shaped like Cuba on the underside... never mind.
I feel the same way about a lot of what you mention in your journal. I actually enjoy my job at the moment, but it's the thought that when I graduate and have to get a proper job I can actually live on that kills me. I don't like the idea of spending 40 years sat behind a desk.
[Edited on Oct 15, 2003 6:03AM]
this is not me being trite or shallow. this is me telling you what i've learned from going thru hell and worse over many years. cheers, now.