A big hearty fuck you to all of you who were too weak to do anything but assimilate in this dystopian society. Too weak to be good. Too weak to break free. Too weak to do anything but adhere to the most crude, selfish, short term motivations. Too weak to be friendly, open, honest. Too weak to be anything but a mere survivalist. Focusing almost solely on just surviving with a few crap diversions thrown in, finding at most one person you'll be real and meaningful with, if even that.

You've made the world the piece of shit it is and you're too weak to face what it is. Too weak to see what it could be. Too weak to do anything but find a way to be happy in dystopia. And thus it won't change. It will never change. You'll only look for change when you run out of food and shelter, otherwise you'll put up with anything. Short of being literally beaten to a pulp there's nothing too crude and meaningless for you that you won't convince yourself is just fucking great.

You have no scope of mind. No ability to see that there must be more than just surviving and some meaningless diversions. But you're slaves who won't revolt. Who've tried to convince themselves this is all for the best. You won't do a goddammed thing outside the social norms.

Lady at work's boyfriend is going to become a coal miner. He'll be working 6 days a week, which with his commute added in will each be ten hour days. Reminds me of asking my mom about my grandfather, asking what he was like. She answered she didn't really know, he was always at work until he was killed in the mines when she was 16. This lady at work's cousin has already been killed in the mines. What does she think? "When it's your time, it's just your time." As if there's nothing that can be done to change the situation. Nothing to do but meakly agree to be a slave and try to convince yourself it's all for the best.

Another woman is planning on becoming a coal miner, again working 6 days a week, like her husband who already does so. She believes that we exist to work and wouldn't even know what to otherwise be doing. The idea of spending time not working is shameful to her. She's a perfectly evolved prole. One of many. Such is our evolution.

Things were actually better in old England compared to here today in America where now everyone is a worker. Most of the people now crowing at the top of the pile of dead human corpses all work long hours also. They mostly got to the top because they worked their asses off. Because that's what they like to be doing. Their job is their life and so it is for pretty much everyone. In old England you had far more people who were free to just be idle. People who just inherited fortunes. Yes, the majority were stuck in virtual slavery but at least a very few had free time for art.

Now most of the people who potentially could have sufficient free time to make some beautiful thing, some thing beyond mere survival, got in such a position exactly because they liked working so hard, and thus like robots continue working so hard, accumulating massive wealth they don't even know what to do with. Wealth and free time is now far more likely to be wasted on people who have no idea what actually to do with either other than to try to make sure others see how rich they are. The inequality and injustice of inherited wealth was actually better than this.

And so we evolve to love doing nothing but working absurdly long hours in jobs that shouldn't define us, but more and more, do. More and more of today's slaves want to be slaves. Those who don't being far less likely to successfully reproduce.

The happy man is defined by his job and wouldn't know what to do if he wasn't working. The happy man doesn't hardly speak to his neighbors and likes it that way. He's got his food, shelter, sex and TV, what else could he need? He sees anyone step outside the social norms and he thinks they must be nuts or possibly some kind of criminal.

...The above was written with a temperature of a 102 a bit after taking 2 lortabs. After getting the irregular heartbeat I started eating grilled cheese sandwiches as they're such a comfort food for me having grown up on them. As a result I caught the flu and felt all around awful. Really, really bad.

Anger, frustration, hatred. Such may be all incredibly crude, violence based feelings, but it's probably just too much a basic part of who we are.

To some extent I've been avoiding negative thoughts lately and instead enjoying small things. Doing so reduces tension and makes the days pass nicer. And also removes my motivations, my sense of direction as far as writing. Removes my purpose for being eventually.

So that eventually I apparently use feeling awful as fuel to help me try to remember. Including anger because it is an awful feeling.

Something vaguely like that.