Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Hopeless Cases

It's ok I suppose to have no future, in a way none of us do, the same finite conclusion meeting us all, life an immeasurably short output of energy in a vastly grandiose and ancient cosmos. But that gets into metaphysical debates about the meaning, or lack thereof, of an existence that is both inconsequentially small and also enormously-consequentially unique. But in a small city in the Midwest where winters come soon and leave late and in a state with a bleeding population, the cold reality is apparent. No degree, few references, no contacts, the kind of person that gets looked at diminutively for years whenever someone asks what I studied, what I majored in, or even if I was going to school. Now that a four year university is an impossible endeavor, two semesters of it costing more than I make in a year, the immediacy of being left behind by the modern economy sets in. I sit at a dead end job making next to nothing simply hoping that maybe in my down time I can stumble upon writing something worthwhile, but I've been writing for 20 years and have nothing to show for it, no publication, no winnings, no name. It's hard to envision another 50 years of this, my only reprieve being that all the drugs and pills and illness I've pumped into my body has cut my lifespan shorter, more manageable, more elegant. My parents know this all; quietly they ask about me going to school several times a month, quietly they tell me they just want me to be able to afford myself an enjoyable life, as if money can fix 13 years of self harm and endless self-deprecatory platitudes about hopelessness. In their desire to see me happy they've run into the same wall I have seen before; there is no happiness, there is no future for people like me, just a cold, dull loneliness, a money-less future, and a 9 hour work day that ends with me, in despair, staring blankly at an LED screen.

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Dreaming Older

When you're 13 you dream of what you will do at age 18. When you're 18 you dream of what you'll do at age 22. When you're 22 you dream of what you'll do at 26. It goes on. Before you turn 30. Before you turn 40. Until one day you wake up and realize that decades of misplaced dreams and delusions of grandeur will never come true, that age has sapped you of what miniscule chance there ever was, and you were always better off living in a depressingly resigned reality instead of a depressingly, dishonestly hopeful one.

Wednesday, July 26, 2017


If our past was worthless and we are worthless and the life we lead is worthless than why ever be tied down to a rose-tinted perversion of what was? If life is suffering and school was suffering and teens were suffering than surely we can remove our heads from ancient sand and at the very least uncover the new suffering that waits for us along with a future we can't construct and a past we can't escape. So on second thought, who gives a shit, it's the same value proposition whether you're weighed down by a false past or overwhelmed by a false future. A sad song is a sad song is a sad song. Lie in bed and mix regrets with longing, wait until you freeze and let it all wash over you. Destroy your nostalgia for what has happened and get rid of the fear of what has yet to happen, they say, in between ethanol and tobacco and other faintly nascent rhymes. It's all the same worthlessness. Put the song on repeat and do it again.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Where Dreams Can Fester

Write that novel you've been kicking around
Bust out your paint brushes and see what happens
There's lots of free audio software to record stuff with these days

So are the types of phrases one might commonly hear when one professes to desiring some sort of financial and popular success in the creative arts. Yet, it is commonly assumed that many people never actually do pursue said creative outlet, instead letting their ideas - good or bad they may be - fester and languish in their imagination. This has been called laziness by some, or pessimism by others, and a host of other negative connotations. Given, however, that ideas in one's imagination can have the kind of success and reach that when put to reality they can not, and that while still festering, unpursued, can reside in pleasant daydreams and delusions of grandeur, one must wonder if not putting pen to paper, so to speak, is actually the optimist's route, and that attempting to achieve that of which can not be achieved in the first place, is ultimately the darker, less rewarding path, for it is only in one's wildest imagination that success can ever be attained.

Monday, July 10, 2017


If taken to its logical extreme, the statement "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" would seem to condone certain harmful activities that do not kill you but might degrade your health. For instance, smoking regularly would not necessarily kill you immediately nor, as deadly as it is, be your cause of death. Indeed, one could utilize the statement as a sort of nihilist hedonist creed, if one were to do simply apply the statement in its most absurd, literal fashion. In that regard, one might be pressed to find ways in which anything that doesn't kill you does indeed make you stronger, and not, as all things, simply reduced to suffering and dread.