I keep notebooks in order to give myself something to do. I don't actually believe in documenting the details of my life because there is nothing about them that deserves to be documented and no one, including me, who wants to read what I've written. But I was enthusiastic about writing for decades and fell into the habit of writing. Now, when I can't think of anything else to do, I write notebook entries simply from decades of habit.
My birthday is in four days, and I'll turn 50. It's outrageous that someone completely unviable like me has been kept alive for half a century. The resources I've consumed should have gone to people who are capable of surviving on their own, without being taken care of. But the focus of the lives of my father, late mother and brother are and were duty and obligation, especially when it comes to blood relatives. They consider themselves obligated to keep me on what amounts to life support no matter how much it robs them of their lives. I'm not strong enough to liberate them by ending my life voluntarily and deliberately. Every time I've tried, my contemptible brute animal survival instinct has asserted itself and caused me to back off. So I continue to be a burden and a drain and to exist without living like some piece of spare furniture in a storage locker. There are too many like me in the world who deny the truth to themselves and rationalize that they supposedly have value. I choose to be lucid and to acknowledge that my family robbing themselves of their lives because of me is entirely to be blamed on my weak character.
One curiosity I've found is that the lives of people like me remain largely undocumented. In the world's lore and literature we have always been the Other, the bad guys, the villains. Usually we have been confounded with the malicious psychopaths who do have the strength to act rightly but choose not to. It seems that those who shape our perspectives are not able to distinguish between enmity and shortcoming. But what I've also seen is that public perception is shaped by precisely those psychopaths reviled in literature. They are dominant in the world and control everything, and their lickspittles among creative people merely bleed off the internal pressure of their victims with aimless venting, for the very purpose of preventing an explosion and thereby keeping them in power. It's an old, cynical game that is being played more and more as greater and greater numbers of people find themselves helpless, hopeless and permanently defeated. And feelings of apathy and defeat have been increasing for decades as the excesses of our oligarchs have become more and more oblivious and venal and destructive. ... Or is that just a middle-aged man predictably saying things were better in the good old days? Maybe I am a cliche, but just maybe I am not.
What does it mean to be a cliche? It means to be deprived of liberty. The mass-produced slogans that people are dog-trained in early childhood to chant within their minds for the rest of their lives, are just part of how every single person who ever lived was broken to the saddle, and those who could not be broken did not live. But our contemptible brute animal bodies themselves break us, and we are broken from conception by the fact that those bodies are collectives consisting of billions of cells. the unavoidability of collectivity is the cardinal flaw in the laws of nature themselves because collectivity necessarily robs each membef of the collective, of its autonomy. None of which makes the slightest difference to me, because I'd have died many decades ago if it weren't for others keeping me alive, at no benefit to themselves. If I could not survive on my own anyway, then oppression by the inherent nature of collectivity robs me of nothing. In that way the guilt of the laws of nature toward me is less than it is toward the viable, who have been rendered mere tools and slaves despite being able to survive in a state of freedom. They are the truly unlucky ones and the ones with a true grievance. I am not even a tool or slave because I am useless, and someone who is useless cannot lose his freedom.
This has been enjoyable, but I think I'll go listen to Beethoven's 5th now. That will consume about an hour of my time. After that I can do another exercise in C the Hard Way and get rid of another 15 minutes. And after that I might lie down and let myself brain fog. Since I accomplish nothing, my activities all have the same lack of value, so that they live in a world of perfect equality and mutual justice.
My birthday is in four days, and I'll turn 50. It's outrageous that someone completely unviable like me has been kept alive for half a century. The resources I've consumed should have gone to people who are capable of surviving on their own, without being taken care of. But the focus of the lives of my father, late mother and brother are and were duty and obligation, especially when it comes to blood relatives. They consider themselves obligated to keep me on what amounts to life support no matter how much it robs them of their lives. I'm not strong enough to liberate them by ending my life voluntarily and deliberately. Every time I've tried, my contemptible brute animal survival instinct has asserted itself and caused me to back off. So I continue to be a burden and a drain and to exist without living like some piece of spare furniture in a storage locker. There are too many like me in the world who deny the truth to themselves and rationalize that they supposedly have value. I choose to be lucid and to acknowledge that my family robbing themselves of their lives because of me is entirely to be blamed on my weak character.
One curiosity I've found is that the lives of people like me remain largely undocumented. In the world's lore and literature we have always been the Other, the bad guys, the villains. Usually we have been confounded with the malicious psychopaths who do have the strength to act rightly but choose not to. It seems that those who shape our perspectives are not able to distinguish between enmity and shortcoming. But what I've also seen is that public perception is shaped by precisely those psychopaths reviled in literature. They are dominant in the world and control everything, and their lickspittles among creative people merely bleed off the internal pressure of their victims with aimless venting, for the very purpose of preventing an explosion and thereby keeping them in power. It's an old, cynical game that is being played more and more as greater and greater numbers of people find themselves helpless, hopeless and permanently defeated. And feelings of apathy and defeat have been increasing for decades as the excesses of our oligarchs have become more and more oblivious and venal and destructive. ... Or is that just a middle-aged man predictably saying things were better in the good old days? Maybe I am a cliche, but just maybe I am not.
What does it mean to be a cliche? It means to be deprived of liberty. The mass-produced slogans that people are dog-trained in early childhood to chant within their minds for the rest of their lives, are just part of how every single person who ever lived was broken to the saddle, and those who could not be broken did not live. But our contemptible brute animal bodies themselves break us, and we are broken from conception by the fact that those bodies are collectives consisting of billions of cells. the unavoidability of collectivity is the cardinal flaw in the laws of nature themselves because collectivity necessarily robs each membef of the collective, of its autonomy. None of which makes the slightest difference to me, because I'd have died many decades ago if it weren't for others keeping me alive, at no benefit to themselves. If I could not survive on my own anyway, then oppression by the inherent nature of collectivity robs me of nothing. In that way the guilt of the laws of nature toward me is less than it is toward the viable, who have been rendered mere tools and slaves despite being able to survive in a state of freedom. They are the truly unlucky ones and the ones with a true grievance. I am not even a tool or slave because I am useless, and someone who is useless cannot lose his freedom.
This has been enjoyable, but I think I'll go listen to Beethoven's 5th now. That will consume about an hour of my time. After that I can do another exercise in C the Hard Way and get rid of another 15 minutes. And after that I might lie down and let myself brain fog. Since I accomplish nothing, my activities all have the same lack of value, so that they live in a world of perfect equality and mutual justice.
) or be somewhere in a special moment, and you just need to find where or what. Just a wild guess.
