Everybody’s working for the weekend

Transactions rule my life. I almost never interact with another person if they aren’t paying for something. When I’m not the one working then I’m the one paying. It’s a daily battery of exchanges and soul numbing exposure to faceless, interchangeable consumers.

It’s my job to be pleasant and helpful. Owners and managers of cafes like to make a big show of their hospitality. They say things like treat every customer like a guest in your home. It sounds warm and humane but I wouldn’t ever think of treating guests in my home like customers. I’d love to have another person in my life that wasn’t just passing through for coffee or experimental food.

We want people to be comfortable and happy here, just like a guest in your home. A guest in my home couldn’t possibly be comfortable. May I offer you a seat on my futon which doubles as my bed? Can I get you a frosty glass of tap water? My humanity is hollowed out from years of indulgence and isolation, would you like it if I pretended otherwise?

SUVs are bigger than my room. How can I best serve your needs here in this cramped space with no privacy, decent furniture, or food and drinks? We could watch a tangentially related assortment of crank youtube videos on unrestricted immigration. Perhaps you’d like to smoke some of my expertly cultivated marijuana? May I offer you the finest feelings of paranoid panic and slothlike stupor?

And now there’s a dog in the house. No one asked me if this was okay. This small black dog smells like a dumpster full of roadkill rectum. One of my roommates tried to give it a bath and now the bathroom reeks of rotting carcass at high noon. This house just wasn’t stark and filthy enough without a wayward shit mongrel pissing and barking all over the place.

When your own home is a wreck,  you worry about the homeless. When your family is disintegrating,  you signal your solidarity with refugees. You haven’t called your father in months but go ahead and call your senator and let them know you think Trump is an asshole.

I live the same way. I’m typing senseless dreck on a heap of trash. I refuse to do what I really need to do and focus instead on my fantasies of self expression. I’m an artist so it’s okay if I live in squalor. I don’t need to do laundry or shower because I’m a renegade blogger.

I have nuanced opinions but I live like a loveless junkie. I’m worried about leftist assault on free speech but I can’t even make it to the gym or cook decent food. Not that I can keep up with what’s happening in the world either. It’s a constant barrage of scandals and outrage converging on trivia. Someone eviscerated someone else on twitter over a reddit comment. Trump signed 14 more executive orders to execute hobo tranny mexicans and I just can’t wow I just can’t.

The Trump administration is running pipelines through the last remaining weather beaten wigwams. Another executive order was just passed that specifically targets Iranian doctors on the verge of curing cancer for deportation. Thanks to Trump my ass cancer rages unchecked. Putin is an evil man and he hacked the election. Never mind the Saudi money flowing into the Clinton Foundation.

What do you think about what this guy said about what that guy said about what this other guy thinks? Your comment is pending approval and evisceration by a gang of mutant internet scholars. We’d love to hear what you have to say as long as it’s what we’d love to hear. Otherwise we hate you and want you to die. Out of love for the disenfranchised.

I answered a craigslist ad looking for writers for a right wing news site. Sent in one of my sterling blog entries. The guy liked it and wanted to hire me but I turned it down after I checked out his site. It looks amateurish and petty. I already have that covered and I get to do it on my own time when I’m not serving DC’s elite dweebs.

Writing is a labor of love. I write out of a burning, passionate need to express myself and avoid the menial and tedious necessities that make up a successful life. Don’t pay me to do the one thing I enjoy.

If I had a dollar for every day I couldn’t remember

I’m paying off medical debt and working 60 hours a week. Making coffee for the upper crust and living among tranny hookers and homos. My nights are late and my morning early. Some days I get by on 3 hours of sleep. Thank goodness I’m not doing anything important or mentally challenging because I would surely fuck it up. The worst thing that can happen when I make a mistake is a bitter cup of coffee.

Coffee is bitter for most people anyway and they wouldn’t know the difference. But I know the difference, and it matters in this ultra trivial and frivolous world of insider’s coffee performance. I used to play Bach and Brouwer on guitar. Now I pour foam patterns onto the surface of drinks. People stare with slack jaws and then say, now that’s an art. 

Yes, I’m a real artist now. All those years reading sheet music and forcing my fingers to make tiny, controlled movements have finally paid off. Playing the most beautiful and exulted pieces of western music were only preparation for my true calling. A melody that lives in your heart forever is nothing next to a cream leaf flower that will be destroyed in seconds.

I’ve trained myself to produce something that breaks down and collapses into an ugly mess right before your eyes. People take what I make and then pour sugar and cream into it. Imagine someone looking at a painting and then slinging paint all over it. Imagine someone playing the kazoo over a Haydn symphony. What I make is not important and is senselessly consumed by people on the way to their jobs.

People want art to be valuable but it isn’t. We’re either working too much or not enough to appreciate anything. The earth is drowning in extraneous people and their piddling products. All day long it’s one sales pitch after the next. Everyone wants to do everything for you but you have no money or time for them. No one can pay anyone else but we’re all ready to debase ourselves for a dollar and a moment’s worth of attention.

I’m a living stereotype, a punchline. A liberal arts majoring barista. An economically redundant and ethnically blunted nobody. It all happened so fast. The days melt into each other. The past drains away and the future brings sickness and death. Thinking about how senseless and empty life is should send me on a quest for transcendence. But I don’t have the energy. What little vitality I have is burned up managing the minimum.

Maybe there’s grace in this life but it would have to come from somewhere else. My current life feels like a throwaway Beckett play. Disembodied thoughts and disoriented wanderings. Waiting for the undefinable while babbling to inanimate objects in front of an absent audience. I don’t even have the meager consolation of critical acclaim.

Today is my one day off, which means it’s the one day I have to do all the unpleasant things I can’t do during the rest of the week. The only break from work is more work. And yet I’ve managed to find a sliver of time to write. It’s a small victory but I’ll take it.

The power of ideas

Give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses. Your recently fired, your whores, and your befuddled bastards. Give us your piss soaked and shit stained vermin, your retarded cripples and violent schizophrenics. Our desensitized, morally gutted, spiritually compromised people need a constant influx of outcasts, freaks, addicts, goat fuckers and illiterate peasants to keep this great land vibrant and dynamic.

We import trinkets and human flotsam. We export war. The goal of our wars is not conquest but rather making more money for our jewish overlords. Our docile goyim love the jews and their democratic ethnostate. The jews are a poor, suffering minority that also happens to be more successful and wealthy than everyone else even though everyone keeps trying to exile and exterminate them.

America is a nation of immigrants. A sanctuary for murderers, rapists, drug dealers, gangs and terrorists. We welcome with open arms and anuses every dumpster dwelling, trash eating, aids spreading, chaos sowing reprobate, regardless of origin.

Diversity is our strength. Only a bigot would fail to thrive in a bureaucratic quagmire full of disloyal, untrustworthy, incompatible groups at each other’s throats, all fighting and scrapping for bigger handouts and leg ups. Only a backwards, brick browed knuckle dragger wouldn’t feel patriotic stirrings in his heart as he watches wave after wave of unassimilable alien material crash upon on the shores of his country.

America is the greatest nation on earth because it’s a nation of ideas. We don’t care who you are or how many disease you carry. We don’t care where you came from even if it’s a stinking cesspit of squalor and genocide. It doesn’t matter if you want to destroy or cynically exploit. You have a place here.

The founders of this glorious experiment just so happened to be northern european white men with an evolved tradition of thought. But the ideas these irrelevantly anglo men conceived are open to all. The opportunity that springs from these free floating, platonic ideas with no genetic or geographical mooring whatsoever may be seized by all the various mud people of the earth’s ditches and dregs.

We cry over the condition of people we’ve never met while we block our blood relatives on facebook. The family is oppressive but muslims are progressive and peaceful, vital anti-capitalist allies. We who accidentally happen to be white love ideas and hate ourselves. Our history is one of shameful conquest, wealth creation and innovation. May our future be one sodomy, sadness, and extinction.

As long as the ideals of freedom and opportunity live on, we are happy to spill the last of our seed in arid rectums. We gladly die without heirs while squat jungle people breed uncontrollably. Our cherished ideals don’t need us anymore. Surely the marauding desert jackals of the middle east and the soulless ant people of the orient will preserve a legacy that was never theirs and adopt habits contrary to their history and genetics.

It’s one world of cheap labor and deracinated, hypersexualized, atomistic tech junkies. Ethnic solidarity for the dirty toilet scrubbing and dishwashing underclasses and sterile sci-fi escapism for waning whites. Technocratic managerialism, just like the founding fathers who hated their whiteness and checked their privilege would have wanted.

The statue of Liberty symbolizes our new world. A torch perennially burns for unchecked growth and unmanageable complexity. Only a few arbitrarily white hate mongers stand in the way of America becoming an even more vibrant and inclusive nation. But with luck and the grace of jehovah, the twisted designs of parasitic, marxist jews will triumph.

And now for something serious

People think it’s clever to point out how competing groups resemble each other. It’s a mode of observation that I find increasingly dull, superficial and impractical. And I’ve done my fair share of it. When you obsess over surface similarities between opposing groups, you throw a cloud of obscurity over deeper differences.

Here’s an example: those radical atheists are just like the christians they rail against. Intolerant and self righteous.  Or leftists are acting like the nazis they hate. They are the real bigots and racists. You can do this with anything, it works the same way every time.

It’s cataract critique for the numbnut analyst. Perfect for instant dismissal and feeling superior without engaging the topic. Again, I know this tendency well. I can remember the days when I felt satisfied by merely noticing that two people disagreeing with each other also resembled each other. Case closed, nothing more to see here.

Let’s look at our example again. In the case of atheism, sure, on the most superficial level of behavior they do act like what they’re opposing. But where do we go from there? Can we do anything with that observation or even develop it in an interesting way? Oh well, I guess religious and non religious people are really the same. Back to my dick blistering beat off session. 

Sometimes cynicism is justified and sometimes it’s brainless and craven. How could you look at a disagreement over the existence or nature of god and merely think woah these people are the same, both intolerant and close minded. Atheism is a religion now.  No, no it isn’t. Atheism rests on an entirely different and clashing set of assumptions from those of religion, and it entails wildly different practical consequences as well.

While it may be true that atheists adopt a tone or manner that resembles the religious, the content of what they believe is radically opposed to religion. Passing over this fundamental fact in favor of glib comparisons is juvenile. It reinforces a cretinous habit of seeing equivalence rather than discerning the deeper nature of differences.

When you think that people are fundamentally the same, you’ll never bother to understand why some people are incompatible and better off separate from each other. You’ll have to resort to mystifying abstractions like hatred, bigotry, and stupidity to explain conflict.

I heard Joe Rogan strain over the toilet and squeeze out the same shit during a podcast talk on leftist rioters. He said that the leftists were just like the people on the right. Just like the nazis. Really Joe? Who on the right is running around pepper spraying women and sucker punching people giving interviews?

Where are the nazis that the left is apparently aping? Isn’t there a more significant divergence here? Wouldn’t it be more fruitful to slow and down and think a little more deeply about what’s new and different here rather than twitch and bitch about hur de hur they’re just like the other side now?

Political and religious differences have deep genetic, cultural, historical, and geographical underpinnings and you aren’t compelled to learn more? These are subjects worthy of a lifetime of study and research; why bother when you have microwave ready equivalences to dish out at a moment’s notice?

I don’t expect people in general to think deeply or carefully about anything. That’s why we have tradition. And I don’t think people are worthless just because they don’t have dazzling thoughts about the latest controversy or pet progressive issue.

No one should feel inadequate for not being a wag. You can broaden the franchise but you can’t democratize wit. But if you consider yourself a thinker, I’d encourage you to take a closer look at what makes us different.

Even when it’s gone, you don’t know what you had

Working nights now in a michelin rated restaurant. I thought michelin was a tire company but they also give out stars for fancy food. This place just won an award for best restaurant in DC. You pay 250 dollars to experience a tasting menu, and I’m such a low class rube I still don’t know what that means.

But I make the coffee for the end of the meal. I stand in the front in a vest and greet people and take their coats. It’s different from anything else I’ve done. I have to carry the drinks out to the tables. Memorize a complicated seating chart. Steel my nerves so I don’t spill a drop or set a plate or cup down awkwardly. Must be elegant and swift at all times. No noise or ill timed movements. No specks of coffee grounds or dirt or dust. Spoons always pointing in the right direction.

Serve women first, always on the left. In the world of fine dining women receive preferential treatment. This is different from nothing nowhere because women in every segment of society are pampered, protected, and propped up like helpless retards. It doesn’t bother me. Men are mostly redundant and we all know it. Men are drones programmed to kill each other over resources.

I work until after midnight and then open the other shop the next morning. Not sleeping isn’t so bad. In a better world I’d be sleeping 12 hours a night on luxurious down, waking up to slow, sultry blowjobs from a harem of 18 year old girls. In glorious reality I sleep 4 hours on a folded up ikea futon and walk a mile to work.

I work just enough in this cutthroat, meat grinder of a city to afford an occasional korean taco meal. When you combine the hard labor of mexicans with the anti social wizardry of koreans you get tasty tacos. Every three weeks or so I recommit myself to buying groceries and working out. I make two meals and hit the gym twice and then I’m back to eating a burrito a day and snagging leftover pastries from work. Good habits can’t be maintained here.

It’s the loneliness and stress of working constantly to avoid getting swept away by a tsunami of debt and expense. I had to ask my parents for money again and also my dad has prostate cancer. Sorry to hear about your cancer dad but I’m still an idiot. In the last ten years I’ve built myself into nothing.

Maybe I should move home. I want to be with my family but there’s no work in southern indiana. And good americans work themselves numb hundreds of miles away from their dying families. See you at thanksgiving and christmas, where we fail to relate to each other when it should be the easiest and most natural thing in the world. Count down to the moment we can break away from the tedium of human physical presence and go back to insulting people on the internet.

They caught the cancer early. They’ll take out his prostate and most likely everything will be fine. I’m sure it’s no fun having your prostate yanked out through your asshole but it beats getting eaten alive from the inside out. This is the fate that awaits us all. You grow old and worry about the ticking time bomb in your ass. You shrink and your skin sags, your dick wilts and your nut sack drags the ground.

Brittle bones and dementia. Marinading in the tepid milkwater of faded memories. Your grown children call for money but otherwise never visit or do anything for you. The nuclear family has undergone a radioactive meltdown and we’re living in the post apocalyptic fallout. Mutant sewer rat people scurry across the blighted landscape, foraging for scraps of food and sex.

Extended family networks are relics. We all vote for people that promise to take things from strangers and give it to our solitary selves. Who needs blood relatives when you can get lost in Kafka’s castle? I wish the prospect of death and collapse gave life more meaning and urgency, but we’re entombed in narcissistic reflection and electronic stimulation.

I’m going to stick it out in DC until my lease is up in August, and then I might move back home. It depends on how things go with my dad. Meanwhile I’ll be deliriously working and trying to forget about death and the lunacy overtaking the world.