I’ve accepted the fact that I have things to say in this life that I’ll never be able to. I’m not a failure yet… but will be one day. I am only potential energy.
Saving money can be good. Being buried with my riches is another thing altogether. Who’s the bigger fool: the one who is six feet under in his sunday’s best or the one who limps to death naked?
You’re either wasteful or cheap in this life of ours. The world praises the cheap. Recklessness is a danger to the boredom of the world.
But the boredom is safety. What I would give for a true and real sickness. To be thrown into a concrete wall by the explosion of a massive hundred foot bass amp. I demand to be taken aback and don’t think I have the ability to surprise myself.
The real American dream has a pricetag. It can be bought. I think it’s somewhere in the six figures range, plus whatever the dollar value of embracing your death drive is.
Capitalism is wrong. Self- interest isn’t the way to wealth. Acting radically against your self-interest is. Waste yourself. Use yourself up so there’s nothing of you left even recognizable. I’m talking dental records to identify the body kind of shit.
But, we all will be failures. Xanax. Sleeping through the dream. That’s ok. There’s no other option. As much as we may want to drain ourselves, leave it all on the field for the world to cringe at, blood and guts and self-destruction right up in their sheep faces, we instinctively return to the boredom.
We suffer from a fatal design flaw. The Creator was a shepherd and we are made in His ugly pathetic image. We are God’s mistake. We are, at best, a rough draft. Our world is some other perfect world’s hell. We want greatness, uniqueness, creativity, individuality, weirdness and what we get is the boredom of a world without sin.
