“Most men have inner conflicts of values; these conflicts, in most lives, take the form of small irrationalities, petty inconsistencies, mean little evasions, shabby little acts of cowardice, with no crucial moments of choice, no vital issues or great, decisive battles—and they add up to the stagnant, wasted life of a man who has betrayed all his values by the method of a leaking faucet.” - 75
I feel so lost sitting around and waiting for things to be how people around me tell me they’re going to be. Obviously things will never be how I think they should be. What is the value of my point of view, though?
I keep arguing how beautiful things should be, but I am met with people asking why I’m so negative. Well, open your fucking eyes to a reality outside of what you’ve been fed by a machine that only gives you worth relative to what you are accomplishing for the machine, one that will chew you up and spit you out in a heartbeat, or lack there of, if you don’t continue to fit into its greasy, geary, automated process. Altruism is an ideal fed to you by a machine that wants you to keep turning its gears. I want to believe that good for good’s sake works; that selflessly making the world a better place to live in benefits the universe in some way, but…well…maybe I’ve just yet to see it work the way I think it should work, based on my own delusion, and complete idiocy, apparently.
I think that asking this species to be even remotely selfless is the greatest mistake any philosopher could ever make. We are not inherently good or bad; we are inherently selfish; we are inherently delusional.
“Common-sense values and conventional values are not the same thing; the first can be justified rationally, the second cannot. Even though the second may include some of the first, they are justified, not on the ground of reason, but on the ground of social conformity.” - 102
Logic and reason were always presented to me as concrete absolutes, not as subjective delusions, but even absolutes can be destroyed by practical rhetoric, not platonic circle-talking, but actual fact defining. Every single thing in this plane of existence is negated by the very definition of “thing,” or lack there of. We created all these things, we processed all the frequencies of existence, gave it all form and definition, then proceeded to waste our existence bitching and moaning about it. Man’s life is man made; man’s existence is so far beyond our understanding that we fumble and trip over ourselves to try to define it, instead of just being the frequency that we are trying to map out, but that makes no sense to us… this intelligent species… lacks the ability to just be. There has to be a reason and definition for every little fucking deep breath and sigh. Why can’t I just breathe?
“The nineteenth century was guided, not by an Aristotelian philosophy, but by an Aristotelian sense of life. (And, like a brilliantly violent adolescent who fails to translate his sense of life into conscious terms, it burned itself out, choked by the blind confusions of its own overpowering energy.)” - 95
I am choking on my reality of everything. I’m tired; just in general; fuck work, or kids, or relationships, or anything that people use for excuses: I’m tired; I just want to sleep; I could sleep for a week; I could sleep a lifetime; I could never wake up; I could dream a life like this one, but strange and broken up, fragmented into temporal, random misfiring of memories and projections, fears and joys, alternative realities relative to how we actually define reality: life is nothing more than interpreting what we think is reality, based on how our mind is conditioned to perceive it: life is a dream; life is a dream that we are allowing other people to control out of accidental, pedestrian influence.
Most of us live in a perpetual selfish delusion of worth and importance; our own dream; trying to exist in someone else’s delusion. I am falling into the dream within a dream; “all that we see or seem, is but a…”
“O God, can I not save one from the pitiless wave?”
I feel so lost sitting around and waiting.
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