july
#182 July 1.
Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The
cold, suffocating dark goes on forever, and we are alone...
Live our lives lacking anything better to do. Devise reasons later.
Born from oblivion, bear children, hellbound as ourselves, go into oblivion.
There's nothing else.
Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it
for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world
is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It's not God who kills the
children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs.
It's us. Only us.
209 Streets stank of fire. The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its
illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free to scrawl my own
design on this morally blank world. Was Rorschach.
Does that answer your questions doctor?
-From the DC graphic novel "Watchmen" by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons
#183 July 2.
...or oww- Guess what? No time. God jesus christ our my nothing savior.
-Bret Easton Ellis, "The Rules of Attraction"
#184 July 3.
so one day he got tired of waiting, tired of dedicating his life to a
future he couldn't even see happening half the time. and an attractive
woman at work was making herself available, and i was too intense and
complicated and fucked-up, and he just wanted to get away. he claimed
to still love me, but to not want to be tied to anyone anymore. he
called it a hiatus. appearances still mattered; "we make a
great-looking couple," he told me, talking about the new woman.
-sine
#185 July 4.
I sought to convince him that while I may have been a basket case in high
school, this was an appropriate response to my surroundings. "Why *should* I
have made friends?," I argued "Just about everyone there was a preppy asshole."
He agreed that this argument had merit, though we discussed some notable
exceptions to the rule. Another thing I said was "You know, *as a school*,
LaSalle had its good points." He knew exactly what I meant. This was after I
had shouted the word "wasteland" many times in my drunken zeal, attempting to
convey my impression of LaSalle as a social environment. He said that if he
had kids he would never inflict that experience on them. I agreed and proposed
a toast to that sentiment. In parting, I requested that if he ever ran
into anyone from LaSalle (outside a small group of reasonable people),
would he please tell them that they suck and I still hate them, just in case
they're wondering. He said he would, and he's the sort of person who actually
might do it.
-Paul Callahan
#186 July 5.
Anybody else out ever had the feeling "I haven't had enough fun lately to
justify doing any work."?
-Paul Callahan
#187 July 6.
Having nothing to do, no distractions, does not make it easier for
me to work. Since I have been in The Hellhole I have lost all motivation
to do anything. I do things because I have to, and not because I give a shit.
Not good for someone doing physics research who is supposed to be self-
motivated.
The almost complete lack of outside-work activity has plunged me into a
dreary state of ennui and depression, in which the main focus of my thoughts
is: "Is pursuing an interesting research career in physics worth having
to live in The Hellhole?"
No escape!!!!! For hundreds of miles in any direction. I am tired of
being surrounded by retarded, inbred hicks with buzz cuts, and poofy
blonde bimbos. As a source of occasional entertainment, it's not so bad,
but living here, where the cultural quality of life is so low as to be
non-existent, well....
I have come to the conclusion that living in The Hellhole is not worth
the good money they pay me here.
-Meech
#188 July 7.
I can't work--I can't bring myself to lift a finger to do what's expected of me.
Instead I talk on the phone or play on internet or pick my nose--anything but do
the work. And the work is easy. Hell, every time I walk into a 7-11 I realize
how good I've got it and how fucked I'll have it if I lose this job (BTW, if any
of my charming co-workers are reading this, I invite you to go fuck yourselves
noisily--feel free to alert my manager that I'm a slacker, it's not like he
doesn't know, and I'll see you in karmic hell).
-throated plaid
#189 July 8.
Knowing that you have absolutely nothing better to do when you're finished with
that godawful, multiple all-nighter, "I'll explode if I have to even have to
LOOK at this again" project from hell is not a big motivator. I'm sure my GPA
would be a lot happier if I had anything at all to look forward to after the
"big crunches" that come all too often at this institution. I want to grab a
diploma and run, but I have that oh so optimistic job market to deal with
next...I'm not exactly drooling with anticipation over that, either. I have no
confidence in my ability to find employment that will keep me amused for more
than a month.
"It's only a few more weeks. After four years, that's practically
insignificant." - Various people, utterly failing to be helpful
"I still have to endure every second of it. Ever tried holding your breath for
that long?"
Sorry, I'm not even feeling particularly angstful. Mostly tired, and very,
very...something vaguely uncomfortable with a whopping heap of bitterness and
frustration just below the surface. I'll deal with it tomorrow.
-Greg Parkhurst
#190 July 9.
Well... Things in life are not so easy. Like I could get run over by a
truck today, and then I'd never have had a really satisfying relationship
with a woman. Or I could just keep on being unlucky. There really are
people who remain lonely through their lives, just like there are people
who--say--die of cancer. It's not their fault. It's not that they didn't
have a positive attitude. Things just didn't work out.
-Paul Callahan
#191 July 10.
I was raised by musicians--touring musicians to be exact. One step above
being raised by wolves on the social acceptability ladder. Anyway, as a child
I would often ask my parents to stop moving around and get a nice suburban
life so I could be like everyone else around me and maybe fit in a bit. So
they did this. I watched my father set aside his roaming ways and settle
down into a 8 to 5 so I could have a house, a tv, a happy dog, a sturdy
fence, a cat. He got a fucking mortgage and self-righteous neighbors out of
the deal. I watched this life style kill him (literally). I watched my dad
put over a decade of his life into the system--taking the shit from superiors
being a good little middle class guy--all for me--only to have the system
turn around and fuck him over. And now I'm at school where everyone talks
about their suburban concerns, their suburban dreams, their suburban
neighborhoods and their suburban shopping sprees and I just can't relate. Yet
I feel each day takes me closer to the very thing that I hate. Middle class
people have more [stuff] than 90% of the people in this world--but at what cost?
Dreary, drab, boring, loss of soul. Are they really so well off? I have
yet to meet a middle class person who is happy--distracted perhaps--but not
happy--or honest--or open. But what's the alternative? Also, I certainly
wouldn't want to raise children in suburbia--look at what the contradictions
can do to someone--look at the insecurity it breeds. Look at how it kills
creativity--making people think they can't create. How can I work, when
i have no desire to reap the "rewards" I don't even know what I want.
-Richard Thompson
#192 July 11.
I watched the middle-class suburban existence kill my father also.
watched him cash in his retirement to escape the 9 to 5 routine, to
buy a small general store along the mississippi river, even as i tried
to talk him out of it, tried to tell him he was buying into an existence
that ceased to exist decades ago. watched his self-esteem and health
crumble as the profits for the store did. watched him dwindle away
to nothing and die as surely as the store slide toward bankruptcy.
-j.
#193 July 12.
This is the first time I've actually spent any time reading alt.angst, and
I must say its damn scary how closely I relate to what's written here.
Realizing things-are-naturally-fucked-up-and-there's-nothing-you-can-do-about-
it-so-you'd-damn-well-better-get-used-to-it is really tough on one's psyche.
From this group and from people I know in the ever so dreary real world it
seems to me that there are two ways angst will affect a person. One: the
angst will just make life seem even more a joke than it always has--the person
manages to maintain a good sense of humor about it most of the time and, aside
from having to sit alone in a dark room and cry every once in awhile, they
are quite capable of getting on with his or her life and have an all right time
of it. Two: the angst becomes overwhelming; the victim seeks nothing more
than to find a corner or hole to hide in, away from reality, and ultimately
decides the only true escape from it is death...they stop living long before
they die.
-Richard Thompson
#194 July 13.
First time I started feeling down and completely unmotivated was right after
school; I was wondering whether all the plans I had made for the future were
"right" (in terms of being successful one day - whatever that means- ,
achieving all the goals I had set for myself). Also, I had this constant
fear of missing out on something... that I wasn't making the most the of
present.
Within a year life became a nightmare - I had a hard time enjoying myself,
became a loner - good therapy when you're depressed ;-) - all my basic skills
of socializing were gone. When depressed, you not only tend to torture
yourself, but in addition you become surprisingly good at pissing everybody
else off, too.
But I believe there's one good aspect about severe depressions: spending
all that time "inside" my mind gave me a chance to reflect upon all the
things of the past - although, at times it seemed almost impossible to
acknowledge and/or accept them - and wonder about the "meaning of life"
(DON'T EVER DO THAT - IT ONLY MAKES THINGS WORSE !). But wanting back my old
life and the way I used to look at it, I had to take the initiative. Talking
to my friends and parents helped me a great deal - now, I truly appreciate
peace of mind...
-carsten
#195 July 14.
You guys are a great help! Thanks! Not only does it help knowing other people
do or have felt like this, but some of your have developed great ways of
dealing with these feelings. It's also very good for the soul to gripe and
not be too afraid that people are going to get mad at you for griping--seems
that everyone is afraid you're going to bring them down and they'd rather you
not disturb their precarious hold on happiness (I certainly can't blame them!),
so its nice to communicate with people who will talk about these sorts of
things.
I...I...I just love you guys *sniff*...
ok, sorry, it's getting cheesy. You're all just a bunch of sorry loser assholes
and don't you forget it!!
-Richard Thompson
#196 July 15.
There are definitely things I don't care about anymore. Like, I don't care
whom I hurt anymore. For example, I have no problem with the idea of
encouraging some woman to break up with another guy to date me--even if he's
not a scum. I don't care who he is. I'd be happy with my own success and I'd
laugh in his face. In fact, I'd make a special point of laughing in his face,
because I'd enjoy it so much. I'm sure he'd do the same for me, given the
chance.
Also, I've pretty much given up whatever sort of puritanical notions of virtue
I may have maintained up until a few years ago. I don't know if it's right or
wrong. Again, I don't care. I know what I want, and I'm perfectly willing to
admit it. Fidelity, for example, is a good thing, but if some woman is willing
to cheat on her boyfriend, it's not my job to keep her from doing it. I've
gotten over the problem of pretending it is. It took years, but I got over it.
-Paul Callahan
#197 July 16.
All I'm doing is belatedly adopting the rules other people live by, regardless
of what they tell themselves. I'm not entirely happy about it. It's a
compromise. I'd like things to be more friendly, and more fair, but
they're not, and as far as I can tell, never will be. If I were younger,
maybe I could get the idealistic thing to work. I tried it a few times, and
sometimes it seemed like it could work under the right conditions. At my
current age, it doesn't seem too likely anymore. I'd be fooling myself, and
I'm sick of fooling myself.
What I won't give up is my integrity, because it's all I have left.
I'll be an asshole if I have to be, but if you ask me what I'm doing, I'll
tell you that I'm being an asshole. I have no problem with this. Well, I
have some problems with it, but it's part of a necessary compromise.
My big gripe is with the sort of woman who has this vestigial guilt about,
say, cheating on her current boyfriend. But, like, she'll *do* it, just
so long as she can attribute all guilt to the other guy (i.e. me). Every
sort of physical interaction must be *my* idea. She never actually says yes
to anything. Maybe she wants me and hints and hints and hints, but
she holds out from giving genuine consent because she can't stand the guilt.
-Paul Callahan
#198 July 17.
There are women who feel guilty about their sexuality, and would
prefer all interactions to be the guy's idea. If they say no in an ambiguous
way, certain guys (most, I'd say) won't interpret it as no. (There are also
scum who don't understand no when it is clearly intended as such--tone of voice
is a pretty good give-away--but that's not what I'm talking about.) When I
come along and take no at face value, women don't beg and plead and tell me
they really meant yes. Instead, they go looking for another guy who is willing
to put up with the ambiguity.
Are such women worth it? Maybe not. But life gets pretty lonely when 99.9%
of the people you meet aren't worth the trouble.
-Paul Callahan
#199 July 18.
I've decided that happiness is fundamentally unstable. I suppose there are
those who are nearly always happy, but they always seem to come across as
ignorant somehow...they tend to have some sort of crutch that I can't buy into,
such as a faith which tells them "don't worry, be happy, everyone will get
theirs in the end."
Sometimes when I find that I'm enjoying myself, I feel like the cartoon
character who's just run off the edge of a cliff but hasn't noticed yet. The
fall is waiting, but as long as he doesn't look down, he can walk on air...he
can never resist the temptation to peek, however, and the audience laughs as he
screams all the way down to the inevitable impact.
I must be so used to getting screwed that when I'm having fun, someone has to
pound it into my head that my feet are still on the ground. Otherwise I keep
checking to make sure and end up missing it all.
-Greg Parkhurst
#200 July 19.
Got up at 8:00 a.m.
Went to work.
Worked
Went home.
Ate
Had a few beers.
went to sleep.
Woke up next morning.
watched the ags get trounced by ND.
ack!
much like every other day.
in fact I think all my days are just reruns of the previous ones.
i need to put in a new tape. maybe I can rent someone else's.
-Chuck Machala
#201 July 20.
I seem to enjoy wallowing in angst, or bad situations in general. Give me a
death in my family (none, unfortunately) or a good war or disaster or a failed
or unfulfilled relationship or just general loneliness or even an angstful
realization of the pointlessness of my own existence. Why? because no matter
what the external situation is, I still feel pain. I can be distracted from it
for a time, perhaps even for a while, but as soon as the dust clears, the climax
is reached, the party ends or even is still for a moment, I still feel it, deep
inside.
Having a focus for it, any focus, any cause, makes me feel better. That way I
at least think I know why I hate life.
You might say "You're responsible for your pain, deal with it, do something
about it. You don't have to be in a painful situation", but the pain bas been
an inseparable part of life for me. I am the pain. It was there before I
existed as a conscious being. It almost doesn't make sense for it not to be
there.
-Brian Murphy
#202 July 21.
Actually, I still don't quite really believe that existence is possible without
pain. For years I wondered how everyone else was so good at pretending to be
happy, while I could never quite keep up the sham for long. I still almost
believe they're just "unconscious" of their fate, a different species, not like
me.
Clinical depression? Probably. Curable? Maybe. But the problem is deeper
than just a failure to try to have fun, or a failure to purge the ill humours.
For a long time I thought it was, that there was some easy fix, some magic
"happy" behavior I just wasn't getting right. I've come to realize that I have
to recognize and deal with the inside pain before the outside pain matters (as
more than a mirror to reveal what's inside).
-Brian Murphy
#203 July 22.
regardless of whether a man with long hair appeals to me, a man with
intelligence and wit and a twisted bent world view, regardless of whether
he has that twinkle in his eye and that sparkle in his soul....
if he can't get past the games and the rules that society dumps on us,
those travesties that make it so difficult for men and women to speak
to each other, to hear each other, to understand each other,
what difference does it make?
-j.
#204 July 23.
i finally figured it out. that nagging head pain, reoccurring periodically
enuf to be a bother. throbbing enuf to be a hindrance to daily function.
i finally figured out what it was!!!
you're sailing along, think you've dealt with the mysteries of life for the
day, have put the angst poking at you from the back of your brain aside
and are trying to get on with it. life isn't necessary good, but at least
on an even keel. then WHAP! SMACK!@ a 2 x 4 wallops you upside the head.
wood splinters and imbeds on the side of your skull.
"what were you thinking?? you thought you had it all figured out??"br>
WHAP!
"everything you thought was wrong! all your answers are bogus!"
POW!
SMACK!
"all the things you thought you knew are bogus! everything you
figured out about your life is bogus!!"
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
-j.
#205 July 24.
As work shifted out of the fields and the home, children had to
be prepared for factory life. The early mine, mill, and factory owners
of industrializing England discovered, as Andrew Ure wrote in 1835,
that it was "nearly impossible to convert persons past the age of
puberty, whether drawn from rural or from handicraft occupations, into
useful factory hands." If young people could be prefitted to the
industrial system, it would vastly ease the problems of industrial
discipline later on. The result was another central structure of all
second wave societies: mass education.
Built on the factory model, mass education taught basic reading,
writing, and arithmetic, a bit of history and other subjects. This was
the "overt curriculum." But beneath it lay an invisible or "covert
curriculum" that was far more basic. It consisted - and still does in
most industrial nations - of three courses: one in punctuality, one in
obedience, and one in rote, repetitive work. Factory labor demanded
workers who showed up on time, especially assembly-line hands. It
demanded workers who could take orders from a management hierarchy
without questioning. And it demanded men and women prepared to slave
away at machines or in offices, performing brutally repetitious
operations.
-Alvin Toffler, "The Third Wave," 1980
#206 July 25.
What you need to fall in love: dopamine, nor-adrenalin and phenylaethylamin.
Then some endorphines and oxytocin to keep it up. Testosterone will keep the
female sexually receptive.
So what happens is that the male sees a female capable of bearing children,
and tries to do all sorts of tricks to sneak his twanger up inside her.
They fall in love, and nature is now providing them with around 7 months to
procreate. After this the feeling disappears or changes. These 7 months
infatuations are, among other things, called "May-December Romances". When the
infatuation wears off, they might split, or turn it into "love".
If the male stays, he'll probably also get "The 7-year Itch". The kids are old
enough for him to leave, everything has become routine, and he still has more
sperm to squeeze out inside females.
There. You've learned two new words again. Then it might also interest you
that women are attracted to men with high status that can offer them security
and provide. So, nerds with no money and status and nasty thoughts are not
going to procreate.
A woman wants a Man.
Likewise, females that do not look healthy in body and spirit are less likely to
get the partner of their dreams.
-Neugamme
#207 July 26.
"90% of all birds, stay with the same partner all their life."
It's a fact. But nature's not idyllic. Nature's about spreading your genes.
Let's have a look at the harmony among ducks:
Fidelity: The male will try to fuck as many females as he can get away with. If
the female is unfaithful her partner will punish her by stopping to feed the
offspring or by not defending her and the nest.
Rape: It's not uncommon to see a troupe of male ducks rape a female. Her partner
will make mch noise, but cannot do anything against the rapists. When they are
finished he'll fuck her himself, just to make sure that there's a chance it'll
be his genes that are carried on.
-Abstract of work by swedish biologist Anders Pape Moeller.
#208 July 27.
Later Anders Pape Moeller caught the male swallow and spent the day watching
what the female did in his absence. The female was offered lots of sex by male
swallows that came looking. The male neighbours came by for a fuck, and the
female usually allowed the older males that had a partner, but not the
partner-less young swallows. But they can get their chance by killing her
offspring. If a female hasn't had any success with a bunch of eggs, she'll be
looking for a new partner.
Ironsparrows have more males than females. The males are grouped into
dominating ones (with partner) and weak ones (without partner). The weak ones
will feed the offspring, if they're allowed to fuck one of the dominating males'
partner. Otherwise, it'll do it's best to smash the eggs. Females are interested
in getting as many partners as possible, because it means food and protection is
provided by more males. They live in bushes, and it's easy for the female to
find a partner. If she's away from the nest when her principal partner returns
he'll peck on her porthole until the rivals sperm drips out, then fuck her
himself.
-Abstract of work by swedish biologist Anders Pape Moeller.
#209 July 28.
More about birds.
The goshawk is a predator. the female stays at the nest while the male flies out
to get food. If another male comes by, she'll let herself get fucked in return
for food. That's why the goshawk is the number one bird when it comes to fucking
with 500 to 600 fucks a season. The male has to make sure that he's the most
possible father of the offspring.
Then there's of course the the cukoo (in the nest), but we all know about that
one.
Oh, and while we're at it, war is not uncommon among animals, neither is
cannibalism.
And all these damned happy indian tribes or people in the south pacific that
worshipped Mother Nature, clean water, children, astrology, female goddesses,
peace, love, sex and vegetarianism were all neurotic, stupid and constipated.
And actually very very unhappy most of the time. New Age and Nature my arse!
-Neugamme and Anders Pape Moeller
(Ander Pape Moeller is teaching biology at the University of Upssala, Sweden,
and writing for the swedish "Naturen och Os". Neugamme is nasty.)
#210 July 29.
Definition of the classic comedy: The little clever one, cheats the big
stupid/powerful/respectful one.
Definition of the classic tragedy: A Noble person has a noble project that turns
to shit in his hands.
Definition of the evil comedy: The little stupid one has no projects and eats
shit with delight because he can't taste the difference between shit and cake.
The noble one hopes in vain.
-Neugamme
#211 July 30.
I don't want to look at the world anymore. It either has something attractive
which experience has taught me is impossible to get, or something ugly and
depressing.
-Steven Snedker
#212 July 31.
Draw a circle. Fine.
That's all you know and are able to comprehend.
Now, draw a circle around that. Good.
That's the what you can be able to know/comprehend/apprehend, by just doing a
little bit of work.
Why should you do it?
Beats me. Every miserable day.
-A Teacher