Okay.
Okay.
I’ve dabbled in Buddhism. The Buddha talked about subduing your own mind. You need to subdue it because it’s powerful. I guess maybe you can let it play a little but sometimes you’ve got to subdue it and make it do something.
What I’ve just described would be seen as problematic as fuck by actual Buddhists. Can you imagine how insufferable a Buddhist fundamentalist would probably be? Imagine a self-styled western Buddhist fundamentalist. God. Think about how annoying Calvinists are. When I was in my late 20s, I saw a fair amount of the people I came up with go all Neo-Calvinist. They start wearing black. They grew beards. They listened to this funeral folk music shit that I felt guilty for not liking cuz maybe that meant I was going to Hell. It was all such a drag. It was really fatalistic and mournful and had this twisted conception of God as this holy serial killer who gonna fuck some people up with tornadoes and STIs.
Part of me still fears going to Hell.
Part of me wonders if they’re right.
If they were right, that would be one hell of a plot twist, right?
Imagine you go through a year of Hell. Imagine losing everything you love. Imagine losing your mind. You stumble upon the truth and it’s the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints or it’s The Church of Scientology. Sometimes I imagine what it’s like to actually believe the truth is in one of those places and to fear that you’re turning away from it if you forsake it. Forget the Job shit. Maybe it’s not that dramatic. Imagine that hole inside you is filled up by what you get in those places. It’s hard for me to conceive but I think about it.
I’ll tell you what though. I don’t really want to fake it till I make it just because I’m deathly afraid of Hell. No. That does not seem like a very good idea at this juncture.
More Posts from Mistahsojourner and Others
The President
I’m going to tell you the truth.
Not gonna put sugar or honey on it.
It’s not that I disagree with the President or his policies.
It’s not that he represents everything that is soulless and wrong.
No.
It’s that I fucking despise him.
With everything in me.
I hate him. I don’t give a flying fuck about discourse or listening to or understanding the other side. If you are going to come to me with that, fuck you. I don’t care. We are past that. What has the fucking discourse ever gotten us? What has being respectable gotten us?
You can tell me that I’m wrong in my hate. That’s fine. Maybe you’re concerned with the effect that such intense feeling has on my health. I mean, God bless you if you think that. Let me tell you, it’s hard to carry around, aight?
See. I’m owning the hate. I’m not dressing it up in some pretty three piece suit and calling it something polite. Nah. This is me owning it. It’s ugly. It’s awful but I’m owning it.
I go off sometimes. I fucking lose it. I lose my voice. I get told by people, “Oh. You’re so full of hate. Everybody hates him so much. It’s scary.” What the fuck?! WHAT THE FUCK?! What do you think he’s full of? Love? Hell no. If you are going to put on that stupid red hat, you do not get to play that card. That’s perverse.
We’ve all been traumatized by the society we find ourselves in. Some of us get traumatized more than others but most all of us have had pain heaped upon us by a society that is profoundly fucked up.
If ya get a chance to talk to people. Like, really talk. This shit is gonna come up.
You’re Already Vastly More Valuable to Society Than a Capitalist Could Ever be.
No irony here. The rise of this woman gives me hope. I remember hearing her name on Intercepted and Chapo Trap House. It’s trippy as fuck to hear a name in those weird podcasts you listen to and then see that person on normie TV.
Even if she never gets to Congress, she fucking won. I don’t think she’ll be the only one. She’s 28. Seriously, this lost generation is waking the fuck up. Some of us are pieces of shit but some of us get it now.
Due to a mix-up that is too stupid to explain, my appointment never happened.
Why I’m Not a Good Writer
It’s tempting as hell to just half-ass this and say that at least I tried today.
This is one of those days where I feel like I have absolutely nothing to say. In fact, I don’t know that I ever have anything to say. I think to myself sometimes that I will run out of things to say.
It’s not the end of the world if I do. It’s not like I’m needing to do this to pay the bills. I do need to do this though. It seems to make life a little more bearable. I feel more present. I feel like I’ve done something with my day. My head feels a little less foggy.
At this point, this is little more than a bit of self-help.
My pledge is this: Write even if my head feels dull and even if I feel no hate, love or any fucking thing at all. Just have to do it. It will probably be shit but even in the midst of the shit, there have to be moments of perfection, right?
So, I’m not a terrible writer. I know I’m not. I’m not a particularly good writer either. Why? I’m gonna tell you.
I don’t do a ton other than work, play some games and sleep. I don’t have a ton of mileage on me. I haven’t done a ton with my life. I’m short on experiences. Sometimes I think maybe I should just go to bars and talk to people, anybody and see what the fuck happens. A friend of mine told me he is driving across this fucked up country of ours just for the hell of it. I need to do that but the thought of doing something like that scares the shit out of me. I got serious social anxiety. I’ve never quite been at peace with the fact that I’m a human being. Is it as weird for you as it is for me? Probably not in the exact same way.
I’ve already mentioned I’m deficient as hell when it comes to focus and self-discipline. Finishing a book is a near impossible feat for me these days. In fact, the other day, I thought maybe I’d read Umberto Eco’s essay Ur-Fascism which I guess is about the qualities of eternal fascism. Fascism is ultra relevant these days. So many countries on this earth seem to be lurching towards it. I’ve tried getting through the essay twice but without success. My just wanders. I need to read more. What should I be reading? Not real sure but I’m almost positive that I should be reading more.
I don’t know a lot. I’ve got a vague idea about a lot of things but there is not a single subject on the face of this earth that I can call myself an expert on. You can see that in my screed entitled ‘What I See.’ Most of that flowed from emotion. I was talking about the real world so I feel that perhaps I needed to show my work a bit more and maybe cite sources like I was back in school or something.
I get these ideas for creative pursuits and then I just abandon them. I’ve started two short-lived podcasts. One was a political show that I began in the wake of Trump’s election and another was just me talking about random things or.. something. Who the fuck knows what I was doing with the second one? I don’t follow through. I’m a flaky son of a bitch.
I’m lazy and I don’t put in work.
There are probably other reasons why I’m not a particularly good writer but those are the most fatal symptoms in my estimation.
In the back of my mind, I have to wonder if this is just filler to put off going into the stuff that really makes me look like a god damn loser.
We’ll get there though.
Maybe I'm doing something right.
Maybe.
I don't fucking know though.
You feel me?
Can't even dress it up.
Anything that ever worked wasn't cuz of the white boy in me.
I wanna mean that.
Loosely connected thoughts.
Back to the lab again.
Just tryin' to live.
She told me, "May you find your worth in the waking world."
I picked up the controller again.
She shook her head and insisted I had learned what I needed to learn.
The waking world.
Back to the world.
To try and live.
Ordinary man.
Trying to live.
That's all.
Maybe I should have more swagger, more attitude.
Boy, you just high.
There is this .gif of Margot Robbie looping over and over mashed up with Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct. I keep stealing glances at it. It’s cool. Kinda hot too. In that Hollywood Kinda Way. In that bullshit kinda way. That way that don’t actually exist. Sugar for the soul. Too much sugar puts holes in your soul.
I should fake confidence more. Sell that shit. Just for fun. Only reason.
Boy, you are so high.
Maybe I am.
I ain’t so bad at this. Fuck. I sound cool, right?
I’m not cool. I got no fucking clue what I’m doing. I might be going to hell. I don’t think I ever grew the fuck up. I don’t got people. I ain’t ever had that moment where I thought,”These are my people.” I say I love the world and the people I’m on this trip with but god damn it, who do I really love? Who do I choose to love? Like really? Sincerely?
I’m sorry about all the bullshit I’ve written in this space. I’m sorry for every time that I did not honestly bear witness.
Yeah. I’m a bit on the high side. That isn’t an excuse though. I stand by every word.
