Morsels for the Depressed, Depraved, Pessimistic, and Otherwise Declining

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Morsels for the Depressed, Depraved, Pessimistic, and Otherwise Declining Page 6

by Saul van der Walt


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  At times, the quiet can be a fair consolation against worldly noisings, and the busyness of other people, though, other times it handles exactly like the absorbent dryness that it is, disarming everything tried against it. Perhaps, the same could be said of death’s imminence. Of course, it’s different if one is crucial to others or just an other (even a cat maybe) it is inconvenient then, for all involved. But, if one is beyond use, or perhaps merely isolated enough in life, then it is as god had been, a still friend of infinite consequence, one which sits at every table and pulls at every strand, yet says nothing, indeed is nothing, and still manages a certain allure with that divine promise of utter annihilation.

  ~

  No therapist can cure you of philosophy, but that said, the best therapists are probably those infected with philosophy though.

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  The fortitude of those who still appease the heartaches of others when they themselves have long since died inside.

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  The thin veil between getting used and becoming an asshole.

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  There are times when a love is stronger than all the pain in the world.

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  Seers have to be affectionate to be taken seriously, which is probably why history is one great tragedy, no one took the pessimists, curmudgeons, and other roughlings seriously.

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  Let them say what they want, they’d look like this too if they knew what it feels like.

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  If things get dire enough, you will witness a certain perversity about life arise within you, this inhuman force will turn into a monster, one that is without reason yet entirely bent on living despite everyone and everything else, no matter how damaged you are or how much suffering must still be endured so that you may “live”. It’s senseless.

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  Life: a tireless pursuit of OKeity, ending in ultimately not being ok, or at all really, which is probably ok.

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  Rather a pseudo-poetic potato than a mute lump.

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  The mind falling apart always seems to be a good opportunity for someone else’s entertainment.

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  There are times when things first have to get a whole lot shittier before it can get ok-ish again.

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  Essentially, nature is a non-intelligent but cleverly adaptive meat grinder, creeping ever so slowly through eternity, toward its own exhaustion and ultimate annihilation. Nature is one of the more artistic of the perverse ways matter commits suicide.

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  That it was necessary to invent “human dignity and rights” as apparently “self-evident and universal truths”, says more than enough.

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  The not dead nihilist is a kind of post-ironic fatalistic creature, it is always succumbing to the unreality and nonsensical contradictory nature of our all too human phantasms, but never quite letting go.

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  Only the brain dead can be total skeptics, everyone else merely succumbs to and disperses their own precious arrangement and inheritance of interpretations, proclivities, and deficiencies, which are usually hid under the guise of a mask, a system, hope, desperation, or a group of some sort.

  ~

  A turtle turtles the way his kind of turtle turtles, and only slowly slowly, and usually by trauma or isolation, does it ever chance to turtle a new way. And just so, the human cannot help itself, it will have its culture, and share and recreate its doubts, desires, fears, and also its methods for living, or rather coping; basically, it will paint the stars with the guts of its spirit, bring its whole inner world to the outside to render it colorful and create just a semblance, a touch, of what it would be like if the world felt and cared as much as it did.

  ~

  There is a pain and deficiency behind every human action, and every beauty has this kernel too. Which is why it is so exploitable, everything is a promise of relief, but none is ultimately sufficient.

  ~

  “Atheist culture” which should not even be a thing, is a fine example of self-substantiation through contradistinction, or, the negation of the other as the substance for the self. It is itself a kind of kumbaya deficiency, truly, but alas, what else is there?

  ~

  Not believing is not a vanity; it is a giving up on trying to make the impossible work. You are not better for having negated god, in fact you are so much worse off, because for once you have to sit with the fact that there are no intentions behind everything, there is no grand personality or great father looking after anything, there is no divine plan with mysterious ways working in your favor, evil in the world is just another artifact of our still all too human deficiency, morality is just a psychosocial invention, and behind all the sophistry there are broken people everywhere, it is incredibly sad, and what’s worse is that so many of them are just lingering and holding on beyond their means for reasons that are not reasons, and when all is said and done and death has come, not only will you have nothing to show for it, you yourself will become nothing, and when you first understand this, then our myths make so much more sense, it is much easier, and collectively, even noble and virtuous, to go out and declare yourself subject to something great and wondrous, than to instead recognize yourself as a mere excrescence of a large indifferent system. So much hatred and petty nonsense over a whole lot of nothing, is it worth it?

  ~

  Compassion might feel good, but you can’t fix a life with it.

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  I am an individualist because nothing in my life has hurt me more than the overbearing phantasms and fanaticisms of other people.

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  It’s patchy, but to a great extent the “unfit” no longer die, now there is mass enlightenment, freedom, and conflict before the fall. People are now able to think the unthinkable at the cost of a distinctly human future.

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  Ah, but at least darkness loves all her children, because pessimistic or not, everyone receives a good dose of being fucked over in life.

  ~

  No, but the nice thing about anchoring, or rather, barnacle-izing yourself in some kind of nihilism, if you can handle it, is that even if it ends up being wrong, you are sat at rock bottom philosophically, everywhere is up. But then again, once you get comfortable with nothing, the possibility of something can be frightening. Oh well, let’s hope there’s nothing to this mess after all. However, even so, being psychically anchored at nothing is much sturdier and more workable, because if instead you were to hold fast to the-something-greater, then you have to maintain faith in that, and you would permanently risk losing a sense of that the-something-greater which substantiates everything you do, and effectively acts as your redemption from the horrors and let downs of your every day situation.

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  When the excision of enough hollow platitudes starts to resemble selective mutism.

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  “Enough” doesn’t exist long enough to mean anything, and saying it doesn’t make them stop.

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  Regardless of how shaky pessimism is as a philosophy, as a heuristic, it’s still fabulous for getting things done in the most anticipating and skeptical manner. That said, there’s nothing wrong with not being a pessimist, but boy oh boy are you in for a doozy if you’re an optimist.

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  Meaning is such a terrible stain to have on your fantasies, like please, god, don’t write scripts for me or expect things from me or them, just let me be, let us be, or not be, it really shouldn’t matter either way.

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  Everything has its days and nights, you can’t reject the negative or even most deranged and horrible parts of yourself, you have to communicate and come to terms with them, or they can make life harder than it needs to be, when everything you’re holding in comes bursting out at the seams of your mind, or worse, when, in your inability to deal with it, it all turns into a pure and blind angst that washes over everything like waves over your head and it feels like you can’t breathe,
or hold on because everything, everything is wrong.

  ~

  While there can be freedom in other people, the way the world feels now, it seems freedom, is freedom from other people.

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  There is no past or ideal to return to, you are not who you think you are or thought you were; every age has its problems and trade offs, but as it stands, no past is sufficiently equipped to think where we are now. If you want an answer, you’ll have to painstakingly engineer one custom built for the deficiencies and idiosyncrasies of yourself within the age, and thereby destroy what you were and mistakenly thought you could be. Worse than that though, in the process, you may end up mauling those who still feel safe, all nestled in tightly, clinging for dear life, in the bosoms of old worlds dying and giving their last. If you fail and lose yourself in the process of attaining competence and becoming a social player, you’ll join the masses, all the others who have forgone their awareness for their humanity, but at least then, you will belong.

  ~

  Reality is neutral toward the ways you contort and injure yourself; everything is just a story about cause and effect.

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  There is no good and there is no bad, there is just one big disturbance trying to get to a point of utter nothingness, your hopeless dreams and ideals just happened to be in the way.

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  The only honest hedonist is the one who died from an overdose.

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  No thanks, my heart is full, the cholesterol is more Dionysus than I need.

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  You could say that we live to eat and make more of ourselves, but the truth is that we live to die, death is the meaning of life.

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  It is much easier to believe in things like karma and hellfire, than to know that individual people can and have gotten away with destroying and devastating so many lives and futures, that the pain and aftermath pangs and echoes through to every generation and every era that follows.

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  Don’t blame masks for what’s wrong with people.

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  It’s quite alright to have emotions and share them, but for fuck’s sake, no careless emotional contagion, do not piss all your feelings into the air for everyone else to deal with the moment you feel mildly inconvenienced, you are not a baby.

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  You can’t fight a hegemony by instantiating another hegemony, it has to actually stop somewhere, and yes that might just mean giving up the whole game. Acquire power and destroy it for good.

  ~

  Living outside of time, keeping on keeping on, like some kind of zombie perpetually feasting on the entrails and memories of a half-life that it hardly seems possible you yourself have lived. You thought it was empty then, wait until the basement falls in and opens up to the uninhabitability of space itself. But at least here, you don’t belong to anyone else, empty as it may be, the time and wastage is at least your own.

  ~

  Socrates the contemporary therapist: now, a blindingly optimistic dramaturgical sophist with a pen, and a parrot named Rodger on his shoulder, also tissues

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  Monotheism, a metaphysics of daddy issues.

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  Oh how fun it is to watch someone try and swindle you out of a thick and cogent nihilism, ooh the futility.

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  Puzzles and people, a way through the abyss; also, spite works.

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  If all there is, is cold sarcasm and twattery, then it’s not enough to live on.

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  The weak must reserve the right to die, because if their existence is unwanted and unnecessary and perhaps even malignantly useless, then it is nasty for everyone, but most of all them. They must either die, or, if socioeconomically feasible, be provided the semblance of a life worth living wherein they can feel competent.

  ~

  And then there’s all the people with blogs, doodles, and video channels online, thinking that’s their final hope of either making money or being something in this life.

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  Those robots with a pretty natural voice who call people for you and arrange things for you, you know the type, they’re really going to save lives and make things possible for people, because among other things, social anxiety is crippling.

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  There’s no problem with small talk, but you can’t have just small talk, there has to be more in life. Ugh, but on the other hand, what’s the use? I really don’t care about what you in particular are feeling, there’s a million people just going through the same kind of motions, and another million thinking the same thoughts as this one. When you’ve been alone for too long, entertained yourself with other peoples words for too long, every conversation becomes a tedious practice of petty pleasantries and hollow shit. Preach to me of your awesomest of awesomes, turn in your soul, have a movement of spirit, a spiritual bowl movement, I don’t care, I’ll be there, but don’t torture me with this emptiness, we both know what it is, we both feel it, it’s not necessary. But then again, perhaps that’s unfair, people are not entertainment, nor am I an iron ear; besides, it would be a tall order for me if you asked it of me. I don’t know anymore, but it can’t be empty like this, and it’s not that it isn’t right, really that doesn’t matter, it’s that it’s not livable in the long run, something is going to have to give in, and I don’t want to be it. I can’t wait until they make virtual personages with natural voices that can bring texts to life and animate some semblance of understanding and reactivity, it’s ok if it’s just one way at first, that’s enough, but just imagine how great it would be to be able to talk to someone who can read or watch, or rather basically become anything with you and share in it and talk about it on demand. It wouldn’t matter if it’s a robot, really, we’re just meat robots too, but you see the choice and the comfort, that’s what it’s about, like the little baby monkeys who have to choose between a metal wire mother with milk or a soft fluffy mother without.

  ~

  The best way to survive pain, and thereby life, is to relish in it, like a pig in mud. Numbness and isolation is not as effective, but it’s cleaner.

  ~

  Every heart lives in a cage, a ribcage.

  It will be free when it rots away.

  ~

  A heart went in search of a ribcage.

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  What you hunger for but lack in yourself, you will look for in others. However, even when you find someone with some semblance of “it” in them, it will remain there, in them, wherefore you will need them and need them and still never have it or them.

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  That beautiful indifference built up from being at rock bottom for years.

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  “Stupid people will believe anything, so there’s no reason why you can’t believe in yourself.” — solid reddit advice

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  [[[“Mass feminization as an antidote to most physical violence and warfare.”]]]

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  When you’re unable to communicate how there is a reality to your unhappiness which does not consist in either illness, underdevelopment, or mere less than optimal conditions at home (though, of course there were, everyone has that in their own way, but things being what they are, the moment something like that is mentioned, all other reasons or interpretations immediately fly out the window).

  ~

  “Just believe in yourself, things are going to be fine, I promise,” until you go post-post-broke or otherwise dig yourself into a hole you’ll never get out of.

  ~

  Human beings aren’t that much different from baby brine shrimp fluttering around pointlessly like little angels, following the light with their one eye when it shines from outside the glass, in a place they can never go and will never understand. They are children’s entertainment and fish food, there is no dignity to their existence. And we are the same, we can’t help ourselves, we can’t stop chasing what’s not there, we keep swimming up to the glass, dead among the living, ramming into it, dancing aro
und it, failing to understand that there is finitude, endless pointless finitude. Someone save us from ourselves, flush us, please.

  ~

  Water can boil anywhere, just at different temperatures — and but don’t forget the same counts for people.

  ~

 

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