It’s quite a strange thing how the entire work culture of our society has been set up. I find it extraordinarily baffling to see how people consider waking up at morning, gulping a few cups of coffee, having some toast for breakfast and racing away mindlessly to a job, an entirely normal habit to foster.
I’m a hypocrite, I’ve been doing the same thing for almost a year now.
Our society is attuned to the concept of productivity, too much in tune with it. There are thousands of books out there that talk about this thing called ‘productivity.’ There are folks who believe things like time management, balanced recreation, and a sharp mind are important to develop and maintain. A load of bull cock.
I’ve never believed that men were born for a reason. I’ve never believed that there is a higher purpose to our existence and the rest of that bull cock either. I might’ve when I was a bit younger but now all of it seems just strange.
I’ve contemplated over and over about the meaning of life, about higher purposes, about staying a materialistic cunt who just sees off these days with good pleasures till he hits the soil, but everything is so conceptualized in our society that we never really experience anything as much as we think about it. I cannot help but deem this entire catastrophe of human systemization as a blasphemous hoax.
It’s very difficult to portray what someone feels inside. Words help a bit, but they never come even within the shadow of the real thing. Some people have the ability to carve out fantastic phrases that seem to make astounding sense, but those phrases are never really telling the real thing. I’ve never believed in structuring out my writing, so you’ve got to make do with what I’ve got here. I might be rambling from different perspectives of my own brain, you might come across two or three people here. There are about a hundred persons that my brain represents, so you might find me staggering from one perspective to another like I’ve had too much whiskey, but hell, I’m too lazy to make an effort to structure out what I write.
I write because it’s delightful, there’s absolutely no other rhyme to it. It just makes me feel delighted.
I’m at work right now. It’s a tiny cubicle. It’s pretty good this place, I’ve enjoyed the company of my colleagues for quite a while now. However, there’s always been this constant irking in me that keeps luring me to feel like I’m only half alive. Sitting before a screen 9 hours a day, I think I’ve had too much YouTube. YouTube will fuck you up, you’ve got to be careful with the internet.
I’m not a priest. I’m alive. The internet sometimes can make a pretty disastrous abstraction of the real thing, let’s call the real thing ‘life’. There’s so much content floating around on this platform that a man can forget to live and settle for dream stuff. The internet is the greatest symbolization of reality history has ever seen, and most men these days live only within these symbols. They’re pretty much ‘code zombies’, I think I’d like to call them that. Code Zombies. They’re nothing close to original. They stink of internet puke. Everything they know or have ever known is content that’s been derived from this sort of stuff. It’s only tragic to see that the human organism, such a fantastic original system, budding with intelligence, is reduced to such a hypocritical self-defending repetitive mechanism. People are machines, or they’ve become machines.
A day will come when I will have no more words for you, but it’s not anytime soon.