Month: July 2015

The Detrimental Disaster of Others…Hell is Other People

The thing about this world is you can’t choose who lives in it with you. Our concrete jungle is inhabited by demons and monsters under the guise of human flesh; it’s a fact that leads many to believe there’s no God on these streets. Jean-Paul Sartre described it best: “Hell is other people.”

No matter what reason, others seek out to terrorize us or sling shit on our parade; their misery deserves company because no one wants to be lonely. Unlike inanimate objects, which can be moved, people challenge the individual by denying resources, inhibiting activities, or attacking the individual. It’s an abundant amount of suffering deal from the hands of our fellow man. Except the torture doesn’t end there! People possess the deviant skill to objectify us. Every individual is made up of two central elements: mind and body. These two central elements make up any unique being. However, people remind you that you are not unique or special. They inform you that you’re a physical being with grotesque characteristics. From their observations and verbal assessments, people comment on our weight, height, and even clothes.

This love and hate relationship has no set boundaries. If boundaries were established, people wouldn’t respect them. People have their own agendas to follow. The clash between beliefs, world views, and values cause a volcano to erupt. When this happens, a sense of security is violated and vulnerability dominates all thoughts. I don’t want to tear into a fellow human being, I really don’t. But some folks are pushing it. I mean, come on. What’s their purpose besides causing pain? I’m talking about those rotten, foul, repulsive wastes of space. I want to smack them, their parents, and the obstetrician.

Unfortunately, we need other people. As long as we live, we’ll be surrounded by people. Relationships with others shape our personalities and help determine our potential. No matter how excruciating the relationship, we’re reflections of each other even down to our deviant sins. The world is infected with others, yet it’s a necessary disease–an illness that’ll be the death of me.

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Murder in the First Degree: Cynicism Killed America

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Today, I realized I’m a homicidal sociopath. I mean, my hands are bloody and I’m still staring at the body as I construct this writing. Truth be told, it was an impulse: pure unadulterated spontaneity. I considered it a mercy kill because I murdered America. I know it’s a bold statement, unlike the others who committed the murder, I admit it.

Pretentious pseudo-intellectuals, douchebags, hipsters, bigots, thugs, and all sorts of freaks of nature populate the nation. I’m not any better because I’m an apathetic cynic. Nowadays, my personality trait is a common trend. It’s a shame, but nothing new is under the sun. So, with all this chaos bombarding me, I snapped and killed America.

Cynicism festers within America; the constant failure of promises cultivated the seed. It’s a disturbing thought to realize the lack of faith in our democracy. A look at the voting polls reveals the desire for a voice to be heard. Instead, the manipulation by countless political swine (Hillary and co.) overrides all hope. No matter the election year, it’s the same slapstick comedy; no new plot or formula. The horror lies in knowing there’s no cancellation anytime soon; we enjoy watching the broadcast. Hope of a true election makes any heart flutter until the hilarity ensues. Too many eyes have gazed upon senseless political advertising and campaign funding. An unfortunate reality settles in the mind: The next four years aren’t going to change or clean up the last few centuries. The new president is going to be a scapegoat like the one before him. What’s certain is taxes, debt, and trouble. Which brings me to mention another skewed subject—the economy. Most folks balance their lives on a budget from spare change found in their couches. Belief in a broken system leaves broken hearts. Inflation, deflation, trade deficits, national debt, and other financial blunders, all build up to uncertainty. For the work many Americans put in, folks can’t deny the feeling of being bamboozled. Days have disappeared of personal fulfilment and pride in work. Those characteristics have been replaced by painstaking drudgery. Workers have become cynical. Their belief is it’s about your connections or screw the rules to get ahead. Quality is taken out of all American products. Even most hardcore Americans are shameful to admit the best products are from Japan. Material wealth will always be evident in our country, ask Donald Trump.

Even though the idealistic facade of America begins to fade into the darkness, the materialistic beating heart of America continues to pound against the chest. Despite fear, despite deep seated suspicions regarding honesty within our system, the Conventional American Dream is alive for all generations to appreciate. A decent job, a family, cars, and a house in the suburbs is a reachable target. This “conventionalized” objective is applicable for most Americans as the grand finale. The reality is Americans are struggling to maintain the dream. Many don’t have any idea how to maintain the dream for the future. At this moment of vulnerability, the nightmare creeps overhead of how they will survive in old age. To sustain the dream, souls are swept up in a Faustian bargain: a pact with the Devil in exchange for worldly desires. The reality is these diabolical deals are amongst ourselves.

My views are jaded at best; the perfect sabotage for all beliefs. Cynicism is not an alternate belief system; it leads to a dead end. The mind is stagnant in being distrustful of other’s intentions and that everyone has a self-agenda. It’s a painful way to live, but someone’s has to do it. Not for a benefit of a trend instead to be a brutal truth seeker amongst men. Cynicism and America will brawl in a continuous downward spiral. A large portion of “America” is dead, buried, and entering the stages of rigor mortis. The problem is America’s inhabitants: deviants that set up ideologies only to tear them down to be “for the people.” America is what we make it out to be. If you don’t know this by now, you’re a jackass. I know what you’re thinking: “Since you know so much, why don’t you change something?” I’m a measly writer with disillusioned observations. There’s not shit for me to change. I offer you the insight to understand so that you can make a difference. I have to trust you’ll do something about it…well…I hope you do.

The most dangerous man to any government is the man who is able to think things out for himself, without regard to the prevailing superstitions and taboos. Almost inevitably he comes to the conclusion that the government he lives under is dishonest, insane and intolerable, and so, if he is romantic, he tries to change it. And even if he is not romantic personally he is very apt to spread discontent among those who are.” –H.L. Mencken

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Short, Sweet Intentions at the Bar of Loose Inhibitions

There’s something about the atmosphere of bars. The music plays smoothly into your ears and you absorb the environment around you. It hits so quickly knocking you on your ass then helps you up to your feet. I order up from the bartender my usual whiskey; it slithers down my throat causing a slight burn like a toxic elixer. I feel all the hedonism in my bones. All sorts of freaks, geeks, lowlifes and  even dogs migrate here. Busy as bees, every bartender accommodates to each individual’s darkest lust. The alcohol serves as a truth serum opening up locked treasure chest full of forbidden gold. A man in a yellow hat flirts with an Asian women. I hope he succeeds in his quest because failure will only lead to my laughter. Nevertheless, the enjoyment of our fellow man is embraced here. We’re all seeking communication maybe a sense of absoultion for secret sins. Damn…it feels like church here. Somehow, I feel at home with all of them. As I puff on my vape, I feel at one with this environment. I still believe this is the good life for me or maybe I’m caught in my delusions. Whatever the case is, I really hope this old guy talking to me shuts the hell up, but I enjoy the company for tonight. I’ll close this short experience on this note: Have a drink, toast to all the belligerent idiots you call friends,  laugh a bit, dance your ass off, and enjoy whatever routine you call life.