November 2019

I II

Untold hours have been used up contemplating how one might go about living their life properly. Endlessly circling around a potential course of action, waiting for the right moment, the existential reset point. Far too much thought has been expended, in planning to make plans. Considering all the things you could be doing, you become paralyzed, and do nothing. Engaging in self-destructive behaviour no longer because it offers momentary pleasure, but simply because doing so further wards off the moment in which you'll have to fully acknowledge your circumstances. If you write with the intention of saying something, you're already looking too far off into the distance. If you write with the intention of writing well, your ego is already too involved in acting as a detriment to expression. If you do anything at all with any sort of hope for the future, then all is lost. The future is a parasite, halting all action, diminishing all sensation, reducing all current potentials to the "less than" of a comparison to some never-realized imagination.

The bulk of self-development advice promises only to transform one from an undefined mass to a generic archetype. The greatest assistance it could offer to a person is in helping them to discover they do in fact have the potential to change - at which point it would be advisable to begin ignoring all external advice, whether it be encouraging one to be a listless consumer of mass-produced commodities, or a generic mechanism in the social machine, or a quantum of revolutionary force in some idealogue's quest for power. More often than not my greatest regret in any social interaction is to have not properly communicated my animosity, to have failed to provoke the sort of disgust that might cause a person to stop in their tracks & truly consider the environment around them. Rather than experiencing widespread nostalgia for some previous epoch (as has so often been the case in the past), the current generation experiences nostalgia for itself, exagerating an exageration of a self-referential feedback loop, which ultimate has no actual point of origin. In a world where basic survival is essentially a given, one's attention is largely occupied in finding ways to recreate the sensation of finally approaching a fire on a cold winter's night, when cold no longer exists & warmth is always well-accounted for.