A place for a

24.09.2015

What is this shit life all about?

Yeah, I know. You are used to better title pictures from me. Police took my computer, so I only have access to some shitty online Photoshop clone. Well so what, shit life deserves a shit picture.

Anyway, question of my fucking life. What is the right way? You supposed to be a worker bee? A Machiavellian? A moral man? A hero and athlete? Or rather a disgusting scoundrel?

Life by now has been a damned series of painful moments interrupted occasionally by the euphoria of understanding and aha moments, moments in which I realized some meaningless bullshit. Moments that seemed like they would change everything. But they never do.

What is the point of this fuck?

Ask somebody for advice and they tell you X or Y. Be happy. Or be social. Or be an asshole. Or a businessman. Seek conflict. Or harmony. Or enlightenment. And when you ask why, they say because of evolutionbecause we are social animalsbecause God saidbecause it is the law, because it just makes sense, because of power, because of desire, because of altruism, because of selfishness, because of money, because of honor, because of loyalty, because of principle, because of Karma.

It is just one big round of circular reasoning, one word brought up to justify another. One sound uttered to bolster a second. But no one to tell you: Why should I?

To be happy? Fulfilled? But what for? Others say the key lies in suffering. Dudes, can you make up your fucking minds?

And in the end, the most honest people – as much as I fucking hate to admit it – are the ones who say: Because I say so. The ones with power who simply force your hand.

But what for do they do it?

Sex? Power? Domination? Peace? All these are just fleeting states.

Everybody puts his own fucking slogan on life, advises you to do what to do because he or she has done it.

Defend yourself and be a man. Or do not be childish, be reasonable and calm. Fight it or surrender? Let life be or take charge? Be a victim, perpetrator or indifferent? And what do all those words mean, anyway?

Do I have anger issues? Or am I too nice?

You dudes are fucking confusing me!

What slogan will life stand under today? Love? Power? Curiosity? Integrity? Compromise? Individualism or friendship? Doctrine or openness? Force or persuasion? Seduction or rape? Spirituality or materialism?

Fuck, you people are like meaningless horoscopes and idiotic calendars of wise ass quotes. You share some sentence that some important monkey uttered on Facebook and feel like you understand the world. Then you go on with your lives as if nothing happened.

But at least there are a few dudes who have it figured out. And every body else can cling to their utterings and feel like their lives are okay, too. Forget a bit about the pain. And the smart monkeys will never even know that their utterings are useless. Because the codependent lost souls would never admit that they do not help. Because the lost souls feel obliged to society to be good and happy. If something does not work for them, they assume that it is something wrong with them. They are not even confident enough to say: Fuck, your smart advice does not help me at all. I need something different.

Rationalization

You know what? You all just tell me what to do because it is what you are doing. You tell me who to be because that is who you are. Right in that moment, anyway. Just got laid? Life us about fun. Just lost your job? Life is hard.

You do not know why, that is the whole issue.

There is no why. You just say it because you say it. Because it is the most probable advice your own confused brain came up with at a given moment. You did not even decide to be smart. Your brain was just bound to be.

Could you have given any other advice? Why did you not? Because you did not want to? Could you have chosen to want? If you could, why did you not?

Why patriarchy? Because it is reasonable? Because of God? Fuck, no, because your fucking gut says so. Could you change your mind? Pardon, could you change your gut? Maybe a hypnotherapist can. And if he can, what was the inherent value of your conviction anyway?

What is the natural way? Look at the apes! Reptilian brain! But we are no crocodiles and no apes and no wolves.

We are what we are. Life is what it is. I no longer want to be a victim of the decision what to do. But I am, nonetheless. Can I choose not to be? But based on what do I choose? Masculinity? Another word!

My mind just keeps jumping between all the slogans, desperately trying to fit the them all into a whole picture.

But there is only a whole picture if you choose to see one. And when do you choose that? Exactly, when your vision works for you.

Look around. Look at how different all our bodies are. How different our faces, muscles, proportions. Think of it. How fucking illogical it is to assume that our brains and neural predispositions vary any less. That one ideology can fit all?

Those who differ the most? They are called insane. Criminal. Predators. Or weaklings. To create the illusion that there is a way to be a correct human.

All just words. And what do the words do? They judge. They differ between good and bad.

But what is the difference? Only perspective. If something does you good, you call it that. Otherwise bad.

Why, why, why

My boss, the coward, sues me for his own incompetence. I hate him for it. Can I theoretically understand him? Yes. Can I then choose to hate him less? Maybe. Should I? By what standard?

If understanding is a reason not to hate, is my intellect and psychological insight equivalent with becoming a doormat? Does my understanding of a woman’s oppression make me want to take advantage less? Maybe. Should it? By what standard?

Does my understanding of my oppressors equal forgiveness? And so on.

Life is damn confusing.

And I am coming to the conclusion that there is only one valid kind of question you can ask: how.

But to ask how, you have to know how to what. And the only way you will ever choose, I promise you, is by what resonates with you at any given moment. By your held beliefs, your past, your emotions.

Rationality is only about the how. Not about the what.

Think of it. If your decision is not emotional, what is it? If not for emotions, why even bother to decide?

For survival? For procreation and victory?

But what meaning has that without emotions? None. It is just another idea.

And so we call irrational those who do not share our emotional world. Men vs. Women, Americans vs. Europeans, Europeans vs. Russians, Blacks vs. Whites. And do not even bother to lecture me on not to call them black. Cause they fucking are!

And those narcissists who feel nothing? The vegetables? The psychopaths? They stand by and wonder what all the fuss is about. They chuckle.

But their chuckle is meaningless to anybody but them. My anger is meaningless to anybody else but a handful of equally disillusioned sons of bitches.

What I hate most is the pretense. The pretense of right and good and natural. It is all just conditioning.

And you never question it, because your conditioning works better than mine. Your conditioning incorporates a social script that guarantees you recognition by others and all the serotonin in your fucking brain that you need to keep smiling like an idiot and think life is good.

Your conditioning does not let that rage boil in you, that murderous, dark, all-consuming rage that makes you question everything to the point that you are not questioning anymore, but simply believe in nothing at all. That rage which makes me lie in bed whole days because I do not have the energy to do anything but either surrender to it or vent. That rage which strips the meaning and attachment from everything you thought you loved or valued. That makes you look at people and see almost nothing more than a bunch of bones and flesh and grimaces that they are bound to make anyway. Makes you see an ad for smartphones with hip music and laugh in disgust, because some sad sheep out there still thinks that that piece of shit will improve his life. See all the politeness and morals, manners, honor and what not as nothing than a show. A show that you either have to take part in or be put into a prison: All those who do not want to or can not fit in.

And the slight hint of hope that someone, somewhere may understand. Someone whose understanding is meaningful and not just the random expression of an unfocused helper syndrome.

But my distaste may be meaningless to you. Honesty may bore you.

So I come to the conclusion that I come to none.

Is it all irrelevant? Or should I follow some direction anyway? I will, of course, decide by whatever neural connections my brain will make. When I read your comments, for instance. And then I will redecide. Over and over again.

Maybe I will make some profound decision to sort my life out. Maybe not. Maybe I will make it and change my decision soon after, like so many times, torn between competing sentiments in my head. Maybe not! But will any of it have inherent meaning? No, it will simply be what I will do because it will be what I will do.

Is that good? Or bad? Well, right now I am pissed. Life threw shit at me from the very beginning. And now I am expected to be anything else but shit back at life?

But ultimately, it just is what it is.

Maybe I will fall for some ideology again. Maybe not. Hard to plan those things, really.

Life is life.

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  • thordaddy

    If you want to go cold, hard logic… And I am assuming you are a white male? Be exactly what is absolutely taboo for you to be… A genuine white Supremacist. For the height of total absurdity is the modern liberated individual’s pathological aversion to those white men who even attempt to seek Perfection perfectly.

    • Yes, it kinda does flow as a logical conclusion, does it not? Even as I live in Germany, not Czech, my home country, I feel a longing for my own original place.

      It is not that I hate other races or think they are somehow inferior. It is that I feel I am programmed to fight for my own.

  • That makes you look at people and see almost nothing more than a bunch of bones and flesh and grimaces that they are bound to make anyway.

    This is where I’m in trouble…I’ve reached the point where I don’t value anyone I meet. Their lies, their fraud, their cosmetic makeup, their polite small talk, their endless needy…it’s all worthless to me. Boys for war, girls for sale…all hopelessly exploitable (if I was a plantation owner). But I have no use for soldiers or whores…so what am I supposed to do?