No matter what pathetic endeavor I’m performing in the given moments of my life, I can rest assured that for the majority of them there’s probably good pulsing music playing in the background.
It is fashionable to suggest that cyberspace is some kind of “island of the blessed” where people are free to indulge and express their individuality….this is not true….I have seen many people spill out their guts on-line, and I did so myself until I began to see that I had commodified myself. Commodification means that you turn something into a product which has a money-value. In the nineteenth century, commodities were made in factories….by workers who were mostly exploited. But I created my interior thoughts as commodities for the corporations that owned the board I was posting to….like Compuserve or AOL….and that commodity was then sold on to other consumer entities as entertainment. That means that I sold my soul like a tennis shoe and I derived no profit from the sale of my soul….Cyberspace is a black hole. It absorbs energy and personality and then re-presents it as an emotional spectacle.
Went for a late drive, saw some weird shit, didn’t get paranoid.
My friend’s girlfriends.
A sadistic dreamer obsessed with academia and pragmatism with abhorent temperament, a glamorous camera pointing barbie living in a perfect world, a boring thoughtless drooler with a stick positioned all the way up her buttocks, and finally a walking talking 5 year old Khardasian worshiping bigot that whines and cries to get everything she wants, loves degrading the male image and has somehow gained everyone’s respect so she can distribute her idiocy among the masses. I applaud you my friends, in utmost satirical banter.
It’s whatever song’s resonating good vibes right now. It’s whatever flavor your tongue wants to be delighted with today. It is the flashy desire that accommodates this moment in father time’s occasion.
"The knowledge and skills you have achieved are meant to be forgotten so you can float comfortably in emptiness, without obstruction"
Depression is a like a deep hole. No one wants to be on the bottom of this hole but sometimes when the hole is so deep and there’s just no light shining on you, the embrace of apathy embodies your resolve and there’s no intention of getting out. It’s dark and lonely but not uneventful in the hole. Just wait for someone or something to save you.
“everything fits with everything else and nobody ever gets hurt”
What is it about witnessing hypocrisy from an educated, well established, and self proclaimed independent woman that incurs the motivation to write something about it. The topic today is public displays of affection. Woman, you start by ranting about your younger brother who is someone yet to experience a committed relationship, has yet to develop any life skills, and is just trying to enjoy himself because he has his first girlfriend. You complain how their slight physical interactions of each other in your presence bothers you and sends shudders of cringing insulated current down your loins. He’s just trying to understand life by living it first hand. He’ll develop abstinence from unnecessary physical contact on his next relationship. He will learn the ropes of romantic etiquette, but later. Eventually. Through practice. You however, proceed to go on Facebook to do the same thing but in the form of a social expression. I can confidently state that every other one of your posts is themed on affection for your own loved one (granted, they are more subtle, witty and less cringe worthy). The point is, you are publicly doing the identically replica act of loving up your partner.
What I am doing is probably just as lowly. Simply writing about this, I am judging you and much like how you ranted about your brother, I am now ranting about you. One exodus please.
too many fucking viewpoints in this fucking idea.