Friday, July 29, 2011

Emotional meltdowns and malfunctioning relationships

Oh, what a wonderful world it is. To be free and alive and happy, friends and family; to love and be loved in return; to look at another human being and rejoice in their uniqueness and be as accepted for who and what I am, warts and all...

I wonder what that is like. Recent events have suggested that I am indeed about one bad hamburger away from going full on Joker.

I often wonder why we cannot hear the delicate fragile tethers that connect us together as a social animal begin to tear and rend.

To be true, I am not as social as I had fantasized. Truth be told, I have a deep ingrained hatred of myself, and a near complete lack of self-respect that is reflected onto everyone else. I know myself and my weaknesses, I see my dark side and am aware of what goodness exists within, and when confronted with a slight I have given, I become heartbroken: when will I cross that line that allows me to Love Others fully, which then would allow a form of Loving Myself.

Well, again, to be true: some go out of their way to just frankly piss me off. I try to go along to get along, and then someone says or does something rude or condescending. Having a limited amount of self-respect, I can take a joke. God help you if you cannot, because once I have had enough, I am done, caution to the wind, raise the red flag of rage and gird your loins. Once started I must finish else the residue builds into the assault level of anger and blind unreason that will eventually collapse into suicidal depression.

Worst thing I know about my life is this: Sadly, my "friends and family" just cannot wrap their sad, meager (lack of) intellect around one single fact of reality....

Occasionally, like it or not, I am right and worse, I know what I am talking about.

That should be acceptable, but no. I find that it is not so.

A sense of self-deprecating humor is mistaken for error in every judgement.

I have lost friends in the past, and may be doing so again. So be it, selah. There isn't enough of "me" left to focus on anything other than mere survival. The ground beneath me is unstable, the simplest of pleasures are denied for the best of reasons, but they are the things that make life worth living, and make fighting the good fight acceptable... with the little happy things gone, all that is left is toil...

Fuck Sisyphus: the myth that explains my lot, and I think that of so many others, is Tantalus, placed in the Greek Hades with all pleasures forever just out of reach. This is the now: this is the commonplace. Our reach can no longer match that which we would grasp.

Snarling and growling, demanding not the bread and circus but pizza, beer and American Idol.

Demanding respect without ever matching it in delivery.

Demanding acceptance without accepting others...

I feel that kinship, that understanding: no more into the realm of what I could be but instead that lowest level of anarchy, that sense that the watching the world burn makes much more sense than bothering to help, or love...

Some men just want to watch the world burn. Some men just want to make a meal of the rest of us.

So be it. Selah.

Seeking redemption is pointless when it is not available. I will never apologize for those actions and words (are they not the same?) that are unforgivable.

Angels are flawless, and being flawless have no need of shame. If I have no shame, do I then become angelic?

My father and my mother never followed me to Dream Time... and I will not come back from that Dark Carnival of Unmentionable Delights.

Have a nice motherfucking and fatherfucking day!

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Keeping a cheery positive attitude

Having a positive attitude, so I am told, is of vital importance. One should smile, and face life with a brave countenance. On those unfortunate moments that are not the norm, as Life Is Beautiful, we are to make lemonade from lemons and remember that God does not give us more than we can handle.

Should you be one of these empty-headed morons that believe that worthless bullshit, here is a charming note for you: I am coming over to your home. I will bring a posse of the most unpleasant "human beings" I can find: unclean, diseased and quite mad.

We will then collectively gang rape you. Any opening on your body, we will stick something in it. Once done, we will then remove your eyes, and thus having created a new opening, we will gang rape you again. We will do this to you only after you have been forced to watch as we gang rape your family.

Parents, children, grandchildren, cousins... why, we will even torment the flesh of your best and closest friends.

Yes, this would include pets.

Now. Make lemonade out of them lemons. Remember: God thinks you can get through this with no problem, so long as you go through it with Him (or Her, or It, whatever).

I like to entertain myself with these vile, loathsome fantasies every time I hear some self-righteous pigheaded Praise Jesus Glory type go on and on and on about how Everything Happens For A Reason. Equally entertaining to me are the times that some arrogant pissant Positive Thoughts Change Everything goes on about how people with negative mindsets Bring Shit On Themselves... well, what until I show up with my full on Joker, knives and pliers, hammers and blowtorches. Get Positive on that, dipshit.

The best part about this blog: few read it. When the time comes and I ultimately go totally batshit insane, this I am sure will be entertaining.

Nothing like using a public forum... ah, and the blessed peace of ignorance...

Ignorance is not stupidity. Ignoring a thing makes all those words above so much more pleasant. Denial. It is standing on the deck of the Titanic and saying, What a lovely night! We should go for a swim.... nothing wrong here, right?

Spinning more and more wildly out of control, life is an amusement park, a Carnivale of dark pleasures and questionable practices. BUT if I only keep a happy face, all will be well...

Right? Right?

Ever see the photo from Viet Nam with the young naked girl running screaming towards the camera? She was in a village that had been napalmed out of existence and had torn her burning clothes off. Napalm, which sticks, continues to burn. So tell me: How much lemonade should she have made, then? Hmmm???

No. Fuck you. I am dead fucking serious. How much would her life have changed with an upbeat attitude?

Watching others in the course of my existence, I can see where some did indeed drive the car off the cliff, lifestyle choices made that ended all Thelma And Louise. These souls, like me, apparently are here for everyone else, for the collective amusement of the self-righteous. See, children? Don't act like Jim or you will get hurt! He didn't keep a Positive Attitude...

These are the people that I love to be near when everything falls apart. When cancer strikes, when the job is lost, when someone dies: Here, fuckhead, have some lemonade. I put cyanide in it.... Let's all head to Jonestown, shall we?

For the record: No. I am dead fucking serious. It is what I mean, what I think. People that honestly believe that just keeping a Happy Place is enough to get through the most difficult parts of their lives deserve the razor blades and gasoline that life has to offer them.

Monday, July 4, 2011

The Control Process

Nothing which follows is original in form or content, but a mere reminder of that which has gone before.

Part 1: The greatest trick the Devil ever performed was convincing the world that he didn't exist.

All fiction, by its very nature, is a lie. Were it truth, it would be called non-fiction. Q.E.D. The problem, of course, is in the nature of truth itself. To use hyperbole to make an exaggerated point, then, imagine two separate volumes by two separate authors. The topic is the same: the history and impact of the musical genre referred to as rap and/or hip-hop.

Volume one is written in the form of a memoir, a life spent creating the music. Volume two is written by a white supremacist.

Both purport to be Truth, or at least non-fiction. Having suggested nothing more than describing the authors in the two volumes, one can see not only how the author would be using language in a manner that most powerfully supports their own pre-existing notions but, and here is the rub, also the notions of you, the reader.

Truth, when presented by a polemicist, is at best doubtful. Sadly, this but the tip of the iceberg that threatens us all.

From a course in basic sociology: The definition of a situation is that which is determined to be real with determine actions regardless of the veracity of the reality.

That concept (pretty much the basis of my first and as yet only novel) is the point, the actual crux of the matter. With the instant access to any and all data, those who wish to sell a reality and create a collective consensus need do no more than go trolling for those who seek a mental form of real estate that is already plotted out.

Bottom line, then, to refer back to #1: That which can be called a "conspiracy theory" becomes nothing more than a means of diverting the attention away from the Real Satan (if you will): there is no real political separation. The facts that do not conform to the theories are ignored.

Selling it is easy, and time tested, which leads us to...

Part 2: Shout It! Shout It! Shout It Out Loud! Over and over and over again!

The current viewpoint expressed here, so far, has used in the only example as hyperbole. Hyperbole has become so ingrained into our collective political discussions to do nothing more than make a point has become the standard means of debate.

You are wrong if you think the political right are fascists.
You are wrong if you think the political left are communists.

The two statements above will infuriate some to the point of blind unreason. However, the fact is that if you, the reader, chooses one label or the other for yourself, and you have been called one or the other long enough, you might be feeling that twinge of response: Oh, yeah???

The desire to communicate a difference of opinion is gone. It is no longer an acceptable means of communication, one must destroy them as do not agree, heaping abuse on abuse while wondering why that brings about a reaction equal to or greater than one's own.

Is it the labels? Or the fact that both statements begin with "You are wrong if you think..."

By doing that, I have created an intellectual environment in which the acceptance of either viewpoint, by my own definition, is wrong. It only appears rational, but in a sense, I am shouting at you. I have in those two sentences eliminated any form of debate by suggesting that any and all who would dare question me are... wrong.

If we are shouting at each other, then we are not listening. Shouting drowns out the words spoken.

The Control Process then has been to bury rational discussion and to live by labels. While it is self-inflicted, I have seen this in places one would not anticipate, like the community that calls itself Punk. The issue at hand is: what is Punk? Are you as Punk as I?

While that is a form of hyperbole, extend it out, and then the divisions suggested above become even more interesting. You are not as right wing (or left wing) as I... can you be trusted?

The Control Process to this point is at its most obvious and it can, and does, escalate to violence, both physical and emotional, words become weapons. The pen is mightier than the sword and can inflict the same damage.

That should not make one less mindful of the sword, as the damage done by words is often invisible, but the damage of the sword can be literally permanent.

Forcing and/or badgering others into accepting one's worldview is bad enough: concentration camps were used for more than mere murder (as if that weren't evil enough), they were also used as re-education camps. It was an actualization of the old joke: The beatings will continue until morale improves.

Using rage and violence is bad enough, but it is visible. One has but to stop, listen and watch. The issues are before us. The real horror and the greatest threat is Soft Control...

3: It's just Kool-Aid.

Soft control is insidious. It is the quiet, and genteel form of inflicting addictions, addiction to sugars and fats in the diet, addictions to body modifications, addictions to addiction.

It takes the handcuffs and puts them on the table. The lie is bold: it is not a pair of handcuffs, it is a fashion statement. We succumb to the Soft Control when we allow ourselves to pick them up and put them on.

Soft Control suggests, whispers. It is usually rather blatant, holding before us a heap of steaming feces, which we know is feces, but the Soft Control says, no, it is breakfast. We buy into it, and eat.

Disgusting image? Yep.

Consider something so obvious but so bold that it is impossible for me, personally, to not think of it as a deliberate attempt to undermine the populace of the United States.

Two televisions shows (television being indeed the Drug Of The Nation) offered two comedic views of life, on two separate networks. Consider them, and consider them well. The Cosby Show and Rosanne.

Which of these two families would you, the reader, consider to be middle class?

If you immediately thought The Cosby Show, then let us look at it. Cliff and Clair Huxtable live in New York with a small army of children. Cliff is an OB/Gyn, while Clair is an attorney. They have a two story home in the city, plus vehicles to take their small army of children to whatever event they wish. There is never a discussion of finances. While cutting in their humorous comments to one another, they are witty and urbane.

Rosanne, featuring the Connor family, has Rosanne and Dan Connor and their three children. This largely dysfunctional group of people is harsh to the point of brutality to one another and pretty much the world at large. Rosanne is a factory worker, loses that job, tries to start her own business, then becomes a waitress. Dan's employment history is shaky, and the two can barley keep the roof over their heads.

Which family is middle class?

A pair of college educated professionals? Really?

This is the evil of the Soft Control. The constant insinuation that There Is Something Wrong With You If You Don't Want To Be The Huxtables.

I have nothing against them, or those that want that level of comfort. Calling them middle class is wrong, just plain wrong. They are not. It is a matter of color, but it is the color of the money, not the skin. Do that many black Americans have access to those levels of affluence and education?

The new car we HAVE to have year after year, the gadget from iMoney, the latest trends and fashions...

How about a world where the emotional collapse of a Famous Person is presented as if it mattered to anyone other than that persons' immediate family? Is that not a form of control in itself?

What controls you?