Sick. Tired. Sick and tired. That disgusting mix of Sartre infused existentialism with good old-fashioned befuddled amazement. Nausea. It’s everywhere I look. I feel it like a hot clam and salami sandwich moving in my gut. What excites? What stimulates? What tantalizes the god given senses of man? When did the rational pseudo-beast that we call society think it was appropriate to spill its putrid entrails on the sidewalk of life?

I almost think the current trend of unemployment in the United States will bring about something amazing. People will no longer be driven into the ground with the idea that what they are here to do is eat, sleep, work and fuck. This free time can only let people realize that the serfdom they’ve indentured themselves to is the most thinly veneered sham they have ever encountered. It’s about time we realize we are more than vessels for the gain of a few and recognize that the very people who drive their blood soaked luxury over the soft and complacent masses would be nothing without those who anoint them on the alter of capitalist greed.


I thought by now we would all be connected. Every soul from Venezuela to Vietnam would have a voice on the stage of human evolution. Yet nobody knows the name of the peson passing them on the street or the underpaid service worker dishing out their daily latte. I hoped we would all writhe in glory as we participated in the communal soup of exchanged ideas and global understanding of hyper-personal connection. We could get all of the sick worries off of our minds and have a sympathetic ear five thousand miles away sucking in a slightly skewed version of the same trials and tribulations we were experiencing. We could transcend beyond daily worries and debate substantial reasons for being. I hoped for a time that espoused being beyond the dictated norms of society or the fervently enforced doctrines of religion.

Yet, people keep spinning cyclically in hopes of demonizing something new. “It’s the government!” they say. “It’s the Corporations!” they say. “It’s the church!” they say. No. Ask yourself this: “Who makes up all of these institutions?” Your neighbor? Your daughter? Your mother? Yourself? Change starts from within. If you keep telling yourself that this is the way it has been and that this is the way it will always be, then you’ve already submitted to a self-fulfilling prophecy.

That’s why I say whenever you write or say something; make sure it’s dangerous. Dangerous like Marxism, dangerous like a spinning Disney mobile covered in razor blades over a newborn’s slumbering head. If what you’re thinking and what you’re doing doesn’t shatter the normal missionary sex style view of the way things should be; then go back to square one and try a little harder. New ideas should pound their forehead into the soft sternum of a complacent and stuck society. If what you’re saying falls in line with what others have said before you; then you’ve fallen into a 45-rpm trap of banality.

Wake the fuck UP!

Please excuse the profanity.