Empty Days

Tuesday, April 13, 2004



In the dregs ::

Fuck. I am sick of worrying about Iraq. What can I do anyway? It's like worrying about Columbia shuttle about to explode - so it fucking did explode and none of those guys at the NASA control center could do a fucking thing about it.

***

One thing is noticeable - when a country is ruled by media who are content to churn out massive blind propaganda, it doesn't mean that everybody is so readily taken in by it. But not at all. What it means however is that voices of reason are not allowed to be heard - even on the everyday, one-to-one level. Those who go about being happily brainwashed will not listen to their buddies who've got a mind of their own - they don't need to, they're "on top of things", they're the ones who are granted free-reign and fake authority by the big media which *fabricates* atrificial consensus and *denies* debate. That's the phenomenon of propaganda - that it makes it effectively *illegal* to have your own mind. Propaganda outlaws dissent.

America is an ugly place right now. I am happy I don't live there. Let's watch it explode and go to pieces. Sorry for all those guys on the inside who know, see it coming, and can't do a thing about it.

***

When my stupid father made the greatest mistake of his idiotic life by deciding he'd have a rosy bubble-gum future across the ocean and moved our stupid family in here, he had a choice between going to the States or to Canada. At least there is the consolation that we didn't go down south. Stupid moron. But anyway - for me it's been fate, and like the world-events show, a lot of stupidity from certain people actually means fate for millions of those who can't do a thing about that stupidity.

Assholes.

***

Fuck Iraq. And fuck Amerika. And fuck this world - I don't know what I am doing in here and I am not grateful for being alive. It's an accident. Luckily nothing is eternal in this world and it will pass. Some consolation.

***

Some everyday distractions: my fridge is not working, leaking some poisonous gas, and I am engaged in a fight with the moronic Philippino janitor to have it replaced. I am enough of a racist to know what racist means - I despise that guy and his dumbass ilk, quite frankly. At the same time I don't really care whether I get a fridge or not - bought a sac of potatoes and it's cold enough outside to even have cream for the coffee. So I am just fine. I guess I'll be fasting past Lent-time as far as meat products go. "What a wonderful feeling" - when nothing really matters after all.

***

You know there is this "uplifting" line: it's a big diverse world out there, just get interested in it. Heh. Thank you very much. It's so full of shit I'd rather not catalogue all the shitty diversity. The reason I can't be bothered to get interested in it is precisely because I have a pretty good idea myself of just how diverse it is. It's a fucking mess - and I won't mess with it for the life of me.

***

All my hopefulness goes down the drain at some point. I am not sure what it would take to restore faith in humanity. My own for example. I go into very humanitarian moods sometimes, and I snap out of those moods just as easily. So let us not be under any illusion here - when we wish global good we actually harbor very unseemly little wishes at the very same time and pretty much in the same breath. All this blathering over Iraq has this smell of bullshit spread all over it. Oh, we're so sorry for those well-meaning troops out there, or those pitiful civilians with their little kids. Like hell we are. Nobodies is sorry for anything. Playing the hotshot politico game "with feeling", that's all.

I don't like that humanitarian shit and that militaristic shit and yet it's all somehow playing itself out in my brain. But in truth, why would I care? And in fact - I do not, even when I say I do and sound convincing even to myself. It's that broken fridge again - I don't really care whether it works or not. Though I am supposed to.

***

I've been reading some stuff by Dostoevsky and not what you think - his long-forgotten series of articles about why he hates Jews, it's called Status in Statu (state within a state). Back in his own time he was a big journalist, more so even than a fiction writer. He ruled minds with his op-eds. And some Jewish folks, liberal-minded etc, would write to him and ask: why the fuck do you hate us all en mass? we're not all the same! And of course Dostoevsky had no idea he was a Jew-hater. He responded with that series of articles where he says: "but I don't hate all Jews, you're mistaken" - and then he'd go on a diatrib about how Jews deserve to be hated and that even their whiny questions as to "why you hate us" are a proof of that. And so on and so forth. And Dostoevsky was a brilliant powerful writer - so everything he says comes out as violently and directly as only great writers are able to do. And his hate comes out in such high color it's almost unimaginable.

And yet Dostoevsky was genuinely convinced he was objective and not an anti-semite in any way.

That's called cognitive dissonance: it's when people have no idea what they are.

***

Am I an anti-semite? Am I a racist? Am I simply perhaps an entranched people-hater happy to take it out on pretty much anyone who happens to cross me in some insignificant personal way? I think I am all of that put together - and I am not making an ideology out of this. I don't need to rationalize my blind anger when I get angry - all I really want is just smack somebody on the head. And that usually turns out to be a representative of some "group" or "community". Sometimes I virulently hate Canadians, Americans, Pakistani, Vietnamese, Quebequers, Russians, Indians, Negroes, French, Indonesians, Chinese, Romanians, Germans and I am only naming a few of those I happened to hate briefly in my insignificant years on this earth. And I even belong to some of those goddam communities - I just hate groups and tight-knit cliques, that's the bottom-line.

My only consolation (heh, there is always that) is that I realize to what extent all of this is nothing but a reflection of my relationship to the world at large, with it being a diverse mess and me having to fight against it all the time. I snap in and I snap out. Just get out of my sight so I don't have to despise you.

***

All this hate and anger are inverted - it's self-hate. And the logic of survival dictates that you can't direct all of it against yourself all the time, you need to push it out on others. That's where morality ends and real-time survival begins. I can't blame Dostoevsky for being an all-around hater, and I can't blame him for being a great-writer who had to churn it out just as is. I despise him for being a blind asshole though. No respect here for his talented paranoia.

Basically I have zero respect for authority - intellectual or other. People are a mess. There are a few wisemen from time to time but mostly they don't talk much and are not bent on ruling minds. Lack of wordly ambition. They're damn hard to find, basically - and I am not looking. The visible loud world is a mess. Maybe I am even fabulating about those wisemen because I can't recall seeing any in too long a while. Must be something from those childhood fairy-tales posing as reality.

***

It was a nice rant - and that's all it is, a rant. It's designed to bring to the surface what's hiding from light. It's a neat exercise. Good guys are bad guys, and bad guys are good guys - depending where the chips fall, that's all there is to it, assholes, I mean friends.

And what's next on tv, I wonder?





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