What lesson has the world for Cheeseburger Brown this month? That even good people are bad; they're just better at putting up a credible front. Which worries me in my efforts to be better. Am I wasting my angst? Maybe I could be more profitably anxious about an entirely different subject than my moral rectitude. Nobody except the people you directly hurt seem to really care, anyway. And there's always rationalizing to cover those haters, if you're in a pinch.
If you're in a pinch, rationalizing will do just fine. Apparently.
God is dead so who's to be any the wiser?
So we're all a bunch of mad monkeys who have to forgive each other all the time. Fine. That's super. I can work with that, I guess. Does that mean other people have to forgive me for fucking up, or just that they have to feel bad when they don't? H'm. A quick review of stained glass iconography suggests them latter. Fuck-a-doodle.
Really it's a good revelation. I should feel less pressure. Since even the people we esteem suck, it can't really be so terrible that I also leave a lot to be desired as a human being. I mean, I'm quite awful at being good when it comes right down to it. I'm lazy and moody and spend far too much mental, emotional and fiscal capital on self-gratification. Given this I suppose it's rude to hold anyone else to a higher standard.
But I don't feel liberated by this learning. I feel heavier.
So I have a little rye and indulge a little melodrama. Should any of this change my ways? Maybe it shouldn't but at moments like this it becomes clear how much of my method is pure searching. I thought I'd just been going ahead with things but it turns out I've been asking questions of the world. What a chump I am. I already know the answers: it's better to be lucky than smart, fortune favours the prepared, idols are imaginary, and entropy increases over time.
I deny the simplicity of these understandings because the truth is my luck is less modest than my modest smarts, I'm foolishly unprepared for every eventuality, I cling to idols and idolize ideas, and my greatest remedy against worldly decay is to close my eyes and think of robots.
Fuck. It's a good thing it's not the deserving who necessarily succeed, because that gives me a slight chance.
Pretty much everything I have in life has been attained because I'm a white male with grey eyes and an easy smile. I catch on quick but I don't actually work that hard, except at things that obsess me personally. Any pretension of "discipline" is a rationalization of said obsessions. I ease every conversation with a friendly joke. That's my butter. Overall I remain undereducated and armed with a niche skill whose value is only that which I am successful in inflating.
I like movies.
I also have some nice qualities but so does everyone. Who the fuck cares? Yes, I'm very kind to my children. So I'm not Hitler. But if Hitler had children he'd be kind to them, too.
At this time I feel I should disclose that I don't idolize Hitler. I think he's a shit. Even though he was nearly as much of a hack of a failed artist as I am I don't particularly relate to the guy. For one thing I love Jews. Jews are awesome. I hope when I die I get to go to the afterlife where the Jews hang out. They may or may not be God's chosen people, but they're definitely my chosen people. Jew on, Jews. Best. Conversationalists. Ever.
The old people in my life are bumming me out. Fuck, am I going to be that annoying one day? The lot of them. Jesus Murphy Brown. They've got so very much to complain about. Is that the way it has to be? Will I descend inevitably into a pudding of self-pity over my aches and limits and losses? Fuck, man.
I'm becoming one of those PTSD-like hippies who can't stand the slightest bit of negativity. "Dude, you're totally harshing my experience."
But of course experience is harsh. I totally read about that on a sugar package, how Siddhartha Gautama explained about consciousness being inherently harsh. So that's the one reassuring aspect of harsh things: they're credible. So very realistic.
You know you're awake when justice is an effort of good people against the tide of events, instead of just a kind of thermodynamic attractor the way it is in myth and movie. Justice is a dream of deluded but good people whose madness benefits us all. They give us piñatas so robust you have to hit them really, really, really fucking hard before the candy and money pours out.
I stand in a pool of candy and coins. The piñata is broke open.
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