~
That entire people groups can have an inferiority complex. At least the religious fanatics, backward as they can themselves be, were content believing they are the chosen people. Find that for yourself somehow, seriously, because looking out with one hand screaming justice and the other saying gimme gimme is not what builds communities, what builds communities is a common psychosis, a striving toward some shared ideal, in other words, in older words, cum petere.
~
Then there be some poetry that has devolved into sweet melodic molasses, wholly unhealthy and inedible in large doses.
~
We can’t go without money and things that hold value for-us, like food and entertainment, so with the world as cut up and stripped down as it is, and us being as domesticated as we are, the squabble goes on, because we’re turned in ways that makes pay, and not necessarily in ways it’s preferable to be. But that’s the trouble, thinking about what we actually could or should be if money never mattered, what would that even look like, the past was all survival and psychosis? How’d people come to like and want at all in the absence of pressures?
~
Of our indomitable scrutineering theoreticians, seeding and plowing through nonsense, searching for morsels, and performing alchemy at the edge of inanity, they are the pioneers both of wisdom, the occasional truth, but also metric fuck-tons of bullshit, which is oft highly flammable, and, too irradiated and poisoning for anything with a solitary atom of sanity and dignity to handle from within a hazmat suit inside a mech made with solid lead armoring. But alas, yes, we must thank even them, because after all, someone has to do the dirty work, and even if its random nonsense, one nugget of gold in a pile of manure is more than nothing, and it’s probably getting us somewhere a little faster than sticking more or less to stone tools for a million years or so did. Humanity needs its heretics.
~
The moment a burgeoning thought is committed to writing or song, something is severed, there is a release. It is as if a contract has been dissolved and now neither you nor the thought need maintain any obligations toward one another, both can finally be free of each other.
Fragments and Flash Fiction
~
K: “Ooh what was that song I used to annoy you with?”
B: “I remember it all too well. Hah! Huh-ah, I’m not telling you.”
K: “…”
B: “Oh the inaccessibility of one’s own mind.”
~
Voice in the emptiness: “Hey, what’s the trouble today?”
A: “Well, the neighbors, they exist too much.”
~
The Madam: “My dear, you cannot bargain with the sum of your intentions.”
~
“Oh Darling, and now that we’re happy? What ever shall we do?”
~
H: “Sinking deeper now, breathe in.., and deeper, and deeper still, tell me, what do you see?”
P: “There.. There is a fat woman, she’s on a tricycle, naked, she’s screaming profanities at no one in particular.”
~
Shopkeep: “Love, it’s cash or plastic, you can’t pay with potential.”
~
“Become who you are,” they said. So, in the 2 years since she took it to heart, her ass grew perfectly affixed to the all-in-one life-realm recliner where she sat and shat ever since.
~
H: “In one word, please describe how you see your personality.”
P: “Longanimity — calmness and patience in face of long suffering or injury.”
~
“Toward a Reappraisal of Tragic-Post-Irony in the Memes of the early 2020’s”, by Dr. Jeb Q. Dunnham-Xing-Trevon of the New Institute of Positive Memetics, published 15th of 8th Month 12,083 (2083 CE) in the OpenGlobe Journal of Digital Archeology.
~
Serious Negator: “Everything is false!”
Interlocutor: “And is that false too?”
Serious Negator: “Dammit!”
~
Just imagine, the first books and stories for computers by computers, expeditions to the extreme edge of pettifogging bearability, massive dry tomes of indecipherable gibberish rendered with English titles like:
“In Search of a Good Function: a perilous multi-threaded story of becoming”, with reviews like: “4.5 Stars, absolutely lockless!”
Or: “The Fault in our Implementation”
Or: “A Song of Mettle and Metal”
Or.. works like: “The Phenomenology of Cycles”
And of course: “The myth of Recurssisus”
~
A: “I’ve come to give you bad advice.”
B: “Ey, what’s that?”
A: “Never marry and don’t grow old.”
B: “Hmmm, seems reasonable.”, or more accurately, “Ah, no need, it looks like things were already heading that way.”
~
* How it works *
A: “Because why?”
C: “It’s Just.”
A: “Why?”
C: “No, it’s just.”
~
It doesn’t matter whether you understand it or not, or if you believe it is a marshmallow, if a brick is rapidly hurdling toward your face, then still, something to the effect of a brick upon scrutiny, is rapidly hurdling toward your face and you will face its consequences, even if you don’t know what a brick is, or that it is coming, or somehow manage to interpret the situation to have been but an opportunistic assault launched on you by the tiny military of the tiny orange mushroom elves, for having stepped on a member of their high society some weeks ago.
~
A: “Absurd, but in relation to what?”
B: “And still, you are here, but for who?”
A: “Don’t know.”
B: “Me neither.”
C: “No but that’s cute though, you two are absurd together, for each other.”
A+B: “Oh, fuck you!”
~
When the final season is made and never again will they make another, and with that, it feels like life might as well be over now too.
“Post-Best-Series-Ever-Partum-Dysthymia” (PBSEPD), is a term, that is not very good, but nonetheless coined in this sentence marking that, possibly for years without end, you could find yourself living under a seemingly permanent shadow of depression, stemming mainly from the fact that nothing can ever resolve the hole left in your life by that beautiful series, the best series you have ever seen, and the one for which you will find no closure until death.
Or, you know, maybe just until someone acquires the rights and company, and they try their hand at making a revamped new season with different actors, and, uh.. oh god, who am I kidding, it’s not the same, it will never be the same!
~
“Oh I really shouldn’t have another,” he said, eating another and then some.
~
H: “Alright, I want you now to go back, you feel it now, white-blue energy tugging at your back, pulling you down, deeper, further, into the past. Breathe in, we’ll hold it for three counts, when I say Breathe out, tell me what you see.“
P: “Uhm, there’s a man now, he’s not very tall, he’s wearing, uhm, it looks like a long stretched out squirrel wrapped around his waist, its head and feet are tied together over his crotch, there’s a stick in his fist, he looks angry and disappointed, he’s violently shaking it at the sky.”
~
The Madam: “My dear, uselessness becomes you.”
~
B: “it’s coming just now”
* 1 hour later *
A: “No man, when is this thing coming?”
B: “it should be here now now”
* 2 hours later *
A: “Nee fok.”
~
“In life, he was not much, in life, he was, ehm.. not much.”
~
The Madam: “Oh but my dear boy, it is for your own good.”
The Sir: “Yes boy, listen to her!”
Please Note: “I [also] have no idea what I’m talking about”.
~
C: “No pain no gain.”
B: “No gain no pain.”
A: “Ja well.. if you were never born maybe. This world isn’t just; pain comes anyway.”
C: “What?”
A: “A poor family can save up for two years to afford a bicycle that makes life for them so much easier, but it takes one moment for a thief to get away with it.”
B: “And, I guess if you didn’t exist, then you’d never have to endure a lifetime of pain with unfair gain.”
**
C: * disgusted * “You two need help.”
A: “As do us all.”
B: “Desperately dude, I’m like post-broke right now. So if you got one, I need a fucking miracle.”
C: * sighs *
A+B: * follow suit, everyone sighs together *
~
Ironism, a masterful artifact of Rortyian technology:
1. I doubt my words, they don’t always seem as adequate and final as others’.
2. My words so far, as they are, don’t have it in them to assuage such doubts.
3. But, after thought, it doesn’t seem others’ words have it in them either.
Thus, to my betterment, I learn new words and continually rescribe myself.
**
I’m not flaky, I’m an ironist.
~
B: “Friends until we disagree?”
A: “Friends until we disagree.”
* 5 minutes later *
B: “???”
A: “!!!”
B: “??”
A: “!!??!!?”
~
Don’t question me, I can’t remember the reasons for my arguments. Don’t interview me, I’m not competent in real-time. Please, even me, just not me!
~
1: For best results, follow your bliss.
2: Ignorance is bliss.
3:= Follow [your] ignorance.
~
Pessimist been saying it’s the end for 30 years now.
Optimist still scheming how not to die this slow painful death in hospice.
~
Maybe there will be sentences in history books like: “Contested changes made to the Martian government of the post-Elonic era was the cause of a short lived period of instability [followed by total collapse]”.
~
If your desktop is a mess and it’s just a stress, one you’d rather just avoid, then, disable desktop icons and treat it like just another folder. Don’t look at the mess, use the search feature instead.
~
B: “Does my pessimistic whining make me look needy, I can’t tell? It probably does though, oh god, it does tho doesn’t it? You know what, never mind, don’t answer that.”
* 3 minutes later *
B: “No but seriously, it isn’t making me too needy, right?”
~
Flat Earthers be like: “Heh, wonder what it’s like walking on the underside of the earth, best bring a flashlight it’s prolly dark there.”
~
Not sure if the statement is oxymoronic, or just coming from a moron on oxy.
~
* Next day *
B: “Friends again until we disagree again?”
A: “Friends again until we disagree again.”
~
And when the wind took hold of his comb-over, with a hand and grace, Herman collected the wafting tresses and restored them, to their rightful place.
~
Young Pessimist: “Hear ye, Hear me! This world will crash and burn in our lifetimes!”
Old Pessimist: “Oh you amateur. Eventually life is going to recover, and it will be a slow burn right up to the next catastrophe, and this vicious cycle will keep happening over and over again until the end of thinkable time.”
Demonic Optimist: “Ah, but at least there will be an end.”
~
C: “There’s only ever a now you, and a now you is the only you that can be ok, so be ok, ok?”
A: “k?”
C: * nods head approvingly * “K.”
~
Then there be people who logic sooo hard, they can’t see shit. The world runs on feelings and necessitations, logic is just a glue. Don’t mistake the glue for the shoe.
**
[[Besides being a kind of formalization of what’s already there, maybe logic is just what happens when between desires and worldly-intervention, pattern recognition gets recursive enough to facilitate recipe creation, with the aid of associations and memoization. Language isn’t necessarily a part of logic as an activity, after all octopi can solve problems, deal with basic symbolism, hatch plans, use tools, and open jars]]
~
“It’s 1 o clock again, guess I slept in a bit, ha ha.”
* for the 5th time this week *
~
Teller of Tall Tales: “I said it was a story, I never said it was coherent.”
~
“As a congregation of drives and baser impulses, it was a very hard decision, but collectively we have determined that Jim had better stop beating his meat before it gets raw.”
~
“He wanted to go to the pub, but he knows the rub, his wife would ground him up and throw him out, if she found out that he did. He loves his wife ever so dearly, and so, clearly, there was no say in the matter, he just had to do it all hush-hushedly, lest their relationship go shatter.”
~
When the external hard drive gets knocked over and 6 years of memories are lost with it. Good riddance!
~
B: “That’s not a word you idiot!”
A: “Ah, but it is now.”
~
The Story of the Universe: “An error has occurred, the program is crashing, everything is unwinding, it’s taking forever, the dump is massive.”
~
Ants poop too, but what’s worse is that male ants die when they mate with the queen, and in the absolute worse way too, their genitals explode.
~
Of school years and the pipeline: My failure to comprehend the possibility of a future in this world given the state of it all, and much less so the kind of futures they were talking about, namely the ones wherein you are to pick a mode of slavery and pursue it for a good 40-45 years after which you will supposedly be happy and have time to do things, never mind that you’re old now and not in the mood anymore for much of the things you wanted in youth but couldn’t have because you had to work.
~
B: “Hey what time is it?”
C: * checks arm * “Uh.. it’s about half past freckle.”
B: * uping and leaving * “Jesus that’s late! Ok, alright, thank you. I better get home soon.”
C: “WTF!”
~
* Further still, on the absence of free will *
But it looks like there’s choice, I can lift my arm.. see?
Yes, and it looks like a self-driving car turns left by itself, except that it runs on a battery and was programmed to figure out where to go. And the coders, just like the AI running the car, worked things out by improving through trial, error, and rule based speculation. But that’s besides the point, because even if you can identify with the ways you’re setup and things you’re about, you can’t help how you are. Like, for example, you probably wouldn’t blame the car for crashing, you’d blame its code for failing to work and respond how it should have, and then probably you would blame the coders, except that the coders were doing the best that they could and no one was expecting this bug that Gregg committed on Sunday evening trying to fix something he didn't know would affect the navigation system too, just before the next critical release date that Monday. So yes, it looks like there’s choice, but choice doesn’t happen in a vacuum, there are so many factors bearing down on why something happens how it happens. Even when you’re trying to be spontaneous for instance, and you choose an ice cream flavor you haven’
t tried before, the prior condition of your boredom and wanting things to be different weighed on you. Short of an unexpected stroke or brain malfunction, no one does things without having some story behind it, even if it’s something stupid or a complicated story no one even understands.
Morsels for the Depressed, Depraved, Pessimistic, and Otherwise Declining Page 8