I mean to say that, in all actuality, things are pretty good. The government pays for me to do whatever the fuck I want most of the time and learn cool shit about how fucked up people are, I mean, did you know that you can condition sexual fetishes? Turns out we have more in common with Pavlov's dogs than we'd like to admit. Hell, maybe that's your way of getting the weird back. If people don't want to be weird you can always force 'em right?
But that's kinda a tangent Dok, see I get this horrible feeling that these are the best days of my whole fucking life, that this is it. Holy fuck I hop I'm wrong though, 'cause it'd kill me to realise I peaked too fucking soon. Please for fucks sake tell me I'm wrong.
The sometimes I think, "So, why bother anymore?". How long before I start getting old Dok? 'Cause already the days seem to fly by. And I don't wanna grow up. I don't wanna have jobs and responsibilities, I sure as fuck don't want to live like ThemTM, there's gotta be a better way right? Gotta be a way to play the system to your advantage, RIGHT?
I'm fucking obsessed with my own mortality Dok. It paralyses me sometimes. Sometimes it's fine though, 'cause I think, "It'll be OK, I could probably do with a rest" but then, well... What if there really is nothing? I fucking like being alive. I like that things happen, everday something happens. I don't want things to stop fucking happening. So kinda mixed in with this there is a desire to be famous. Which is dumb right 'cause it seems that being famous actually sucks the big one. But I guess its a jaded kinda narcissism, that tells me I want more than fifty people to give a shit when I finally kick the bucket. I think that's kinda messed up, so I tell myself to stop, but I know that every other monkey thinks the same thing secretly, its just another way of wanting your life to have meaning, to make a fucking difference to the world.
But that fucking desperate, pathetic narcissism goes deeper, I don't mean fame, like it is today, where anyone can do it, no, I mean real fame. Fame that people deserve. Fame like the Pixies and the Stones and the Beatles. That kinda fame could keep you in the collective memory forever. I know that's kinda dumb, I wouldn't exactly be around to know about it would I? But I guess that goes back to the old "searching for meaning" thing don't it?
So here's the punchline Dok, I need you to tell me something, put my mind at rest, if you will.
Please, tell me it's OK, even when the days start to run out, even when you really, really, want to be a perpetual motion machine.
Tell me it's still fun when you have to work a shit job that you hate just to stay alive.
Tell me it's still a fucking RIOT even when your body starts giving up on you.
Tell me Death likes to party.
The fun never ends, at least for those of us who are serious about having a good time, dude. But there are a few things you're going to have to accept: You're going to age, and you're going to die. Hell, I have found throughout the last year or so that you can't REALLY enjoy life til you come to accept those things.
Also, I have never forced anyone to be weird. You can't. You can't even force weird people to your level of weird. In fact, you can't force anyone to do anything, and you should never try, or you'll just get bitter. You're going to get bitter anyway, when really good friends turn out to not be really good friends, or when people you love drown themselves in booze and self-pity until you don't recognize them anymore, or you don't get a job you really wanted...but those are external things, and pretty soon you learn to let them go and move on. But the bitterness caused by expecting people to live up to your standards has more sticking power, so I'd avoid it, if I were you.
About peaking too soon...that's self-intimidation talking there. This isn't politics or American Idol, you don't "peak". You live. And you come to accept that you won't be 22 ever again, and that you can and should adjust to your changing tastes as you get older. If you don't, you wind up as a club creeper or something equally pathetic, or simply wind up alone.
And this fame business...I am happy with the notoriety I get from being the horrible bastard I am. I can't speak for anyone that really wants to chase something as hideous and ephemeral as fame, and it puzzles me that anyone would...Not just because of the hassles that come with it, but because of what it does to you as a person. Something tells me that Mick Jagger and Elton John aren't exactly well-adjusted to their lives, mostly because there's no way you COULD adjust to that kind of life.
The short answer here is, stop worrying so much about trivialities. Love the ones that love you, walk away from the ones that hurt you, and enjoy the ride...because, as I said earlier, the ride is finite, and it never, ever lasts long enough.
I'm not gonna lie, RB. I started a life of debauchery and Fun™ about two decades ago, and it's starting to catch up to me. Things start wearing out. That's when I realized that Fun™ has two parts to it, entertwined with each other. There's the Fun™you want to have, and the Fun™that they make you think you want to have. And while they can be the same thing at times, if you're not careful, you'll be having more of the latter, and less of the former.
I can't just go wading blindly into a Good Time® anymore, not if I want to function properly the next day. I have to figure out the kind of Fun™ I want, and how to get it, and how to avoid the kind of Good Time® that ends up with puke on my shoes, be it mine, or be it someone else's (hey, I like to wear nice shoes. You know how hard it is to get the smell out?).
Because if you're having someone else's idea of a Good Time®, then you very well may end up 20 years older, wondering what the hell you've done with yourself, and why you can't remember any recent Friday night.
The Fun™ never ends, RB. You just gotta grab on, and ride it to the WALL.
THEY THEY THEY THEM THEM THEM DONT HAVE NOTHING ON ME. NO NOTHING NO NOTHING AT ALL.
I'm gonna paint myself red and fly as far as my withered wings will carry me, and say all my sentences with seductive soporific assonance until they can't help but label me the Devil. I'm gonna dig myself a hole in the ground far away from the yellow tribe, and whatever happens while I'm there is good enough for me, and I'll call it my kinda fun. A life without SystemTM.
Hear that? That's change, probably. Not a life without systems. That's not how life works I'm afraid, no way are you gettin' outta that one. A life without SystemTM.
AHAHahahAHAHA, am I scar(r)ed yet?
No NO NO No NO no. Sick of the hive. Don't wanna contribute. Don't care about the honey, the taste is all sickening now. It's just too sweet, and all the other bees and practically breathing it in, always gotta get more they say. But I don't care about production, so I'm gonna fly out to the grass, and just sit.
That's my kinda fun. Just being. Good enough for me, 'cause if you ain't got SystemTM it can't judge you, for sitting round jotting in note pads, and doing the things you actually care about, and sometimes doing weird shit like sneaking into peoples gardens and leaving them potted plants. I'm the worst/best burglar ever don't you know?
People should organise themselves.
Life without SystemTM
I like that you highlighted that fetished can be conditioned, RB. It's the sad truth, most sexual abusers are former victims ("Do unto me now, what has been done to thee" -MJK) Ever lsiten to "Love Line"? How many time do they outright tell people, "You need to seek couseling." when they come out with something REALLY weird heavy juicy? Then I wonder what posesses all those guys on whatever flavor of amateur porntube to pull on stockings, tie their balls up, and ram things into their ass. Undirected conditioning can certainly do interesting things. (I am fine with any God that would do this, so long as they're having fun.) Anyways, no mater what cabinet items are in what orifices, they're still chasing the fun.
MTV lied to us HORRIBLY, RB. Life tops out in the mid 20's soemtimes, according to them. There's no more good times, good sex, and you fall into old stodgy authoritatiran irrelevancy, just in time to provide the nagging voice at the next generation of youngsters screaming at Carson D's latest flash clone. (I hear they almost last for a whole EPISODE these days!)
MTV didn't have the right role models.
They hadn't met the admirable WW2 vets, the Depression Survivors who knew (the hard way) what things were worth, the polarized children of the 60's or 70's, or the cynical fun of anyone who got through the 80's without coke.
They all showed me something important. You can only be a young asshole so long, but you can be a crafty bastard even longer. I'd rather say I'm learning and living with what they're willing to teach.
It all ends sure. If it doesn't, it has no value.
I get this sinking feeling that I'm being conditioned all the time.
Conditioned to think in straight lines, conditioned to learn but not understand.
That's the one I hate the most, the one that really fuels the rage, that people can be completely happy to spout whatever argument they've been taught whenever anyone is kind enough to challenge their point of view, then that's it, argument over. They've won because they are the best at parroting other people's ideas.
Completely unwilling to examine what they have been taught to repeat.
There is this idea, from somewhere, that our benevolent democratic overlords will try to turn a revolutionary man into a redundant mouse, but that's more the realm of the BrandTM. No, the real trick, is turning a revolutionary man into a redundant machine, its sadly beautiful in its own way and truly brilliant.
They start the process way back when they're young and impressionable, because ideas take time to flourish, and bad ideas need extra reinforcement to take hold. So they plant that seed, the little voice that says "Just jump through the hoops and everything will be just fine".
Just jump through the hoops and everything will be just fine.
Mummy just wants the best for all her boys.
Aha-ha-ha.
Great topic, RB. Just gonna add a few thoughts of my own here.
I'm willing to jump through a few hoops to get what I'm after, but I'm also always looking for the loops/loopholes. There are plenty, and I have found they are worth looking for. Every once in awhile you find a really good one.
I'm willing to work hard, but only for things really worth working hard for. There's also sometimes a big difference between something I don't want to do and something not worth doing. Often things worth doing involve doing hard things, things I may not feel like doing, but they're worth doing, so I go for it. And then, if I'm lucky, I find a loop. When I find it, I'm gonna exploit the hell out of it, milk it for every ounce of Slack I can.
Sometimes, I can't stand another day with the yellow tribe either. On those days, I drive. I drive as far as I can, and then I sit. And every once in a while, I feel like I start to understand things without any straight lines. Other times, I don't really feel or need to understand things. I doubt my cat understands shit about what's bothering me when he finds me in a mood and comes to comfort me. I don't have a clue what he's thinking. Yet, often I find he lends a better shoulder than any monkey can.
I won't live a life of simple hoops, living for a brighter tomorrow that never comes, filling in dead time by plugging into the tube. I've gotten away with enough thus far to realize that none of that is really necessary. Richter's right. The "crafty bastard" gets away with a lot more for a lot longer. "Reality is what you can get away with" and catching a small glimpse at just how far that goes, just how weird things can get, that's something definitely worth taking "to the wall" in my book.
The hoops are mainly there for Them. The older I get, it does seem to get a tad bit easier to hop, skip and jump through, around, over, under, or in between those hoops in my "spare time", whilst dedicating the majority of my time and energy toward my goals, playing my games, and creating my Reality. Meanwhile, They, for the most part, are none the wiser. They're so wrapped up in the hoops that they can't even imagine how easy it is for me. Hell, half the time I'm really only toying with them. That's one of the perks of "the weird", you see. Sometimes you can just go ahead and be obvious about it, and while They're still staring in shock, astounded by the sheer audacity of your weirdness, with a little luck, you'll already be half a continent away.
Don't get me wrong though. Sometimes, in order to find the best loopholes, in order to get really serious about silliness, sacrifices must be made. But I know what the first thing will be to hit the fire. And there's plenty of it lying around. I don't know if you may already know this, but it turns out that one can actually turn shit into gold.