I wonder what I would write if I were piss drunk and didn’t give a fuck about what I was writing about. Let me sort of try to evoke that. I would say, damn, fuck this shit. Ya’ll crazy. Everyone’s crazy. Nobody has a goddamn clue about what they’re doing. We’re all tired and sleep-deprived and annoyed and frustrated. We all got bills to pay. We’re all animals, really, more animal than anything else. We call ourselves intelligent but really we have the slightest drop of it, and we use it mainly just to rationalize our animalistic instincts and urges and stuff anyway.

It’s astounding how stupid so many people are. But it’s not their fault, I guess. They were raised that way by people who didn’t know better. They didn’t get a proper education. They didn’t get the chance to read books. They were bullied. They were distracted. They were sedated. They were never challenged in the right way, inspired or instructed in the right way. Merely sheperded around, plugged in.

These couple of paragraphs aren’t enlightened or smart, they’re as dumb as any other. They’re just grunts, unhappy complaining, entitled. It’s angsty teenage shit all over again, only this time it has the weight of bills and adult responsibilities. Life is a beautiful joy and all that, but it also sucks– you’re born, you come out of this nice womb into this hot and cold and loud and scary world, and you shit your pants, and you’re crying and screaming and you’re supposed to obey and listen and do as you’re told, and there are all these rules and regulations, and there are buildings that you’re going to get locked up in 8 hours a day, damn that shit is nasty. Life is some nasty ass shit, but it’s done to protect you from even nastier ass shit out there in the wild. Animals don’t give a fuck about you they’ll just slaughter you and eat you.

What is up with the whole deal about dogs being man’s best friend and such anyway. Dogs were domesticated. They treat us with unconditional love because we’ve trained them to, and they’re either condemned or liberated (depending on how you want to look at it) to submit to us completely. That’s their blessing and curse, and they don’t realize how it might be a curse so I guess it’s a blessing all the way through. But still. The whole notion that dogs are better than people… well, fuck, I don’t care. Believe what you want to believe, whatever makes you happy.

7 billion humans on this Earth, and honestly I’m not impressed. I think we could do better. But what am I doing about it anyway? Nothing. Complaining on the internet. Completely unproductive activity. What WOULD be a productive activity? Going the fuck to bed. Sleeping. Waking up early. Going for a run. Showering. Eating breakfast. Drinking some tea. Going to work and getting some work done. Getting more and more work done so I have some excess capacity so I can do more stuff. So I can help other people. So I can carry more than my current share, and not complain about it because I’d be getting stronger and I’d relish the challenge. Wouldn’t that be something?

We talk about teenage angst but really there are so many sad old grumpy motherfuckers all the way into senile old age. There are grumpy motherfuckers in their 20s and 30s and 40s and 50s… there are people in their 40s and 50s who have no idea how to love, no idea how to keep a relationship together, no idea how to not be a spiteful bastard to the people around you. That’s their tragedy. That’s everybody’s tragedy. That’s nobody’s tragedy. Who knows. The most you can do is look at it and go “damn, I never want to be like that.”

Feels like all I ever really know is what I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be fat. I don’t want to be skinny. I don’t want to be unfit. I don’t want to have a broken body. I don’t want to be sleep deprived all the time. I don’t want to be a smoker. I don’t want to be an alcoholic. I don’t want to be an angry person (except when it’s truly justified, when it’s on the behalf of other people who deserve the assistance, and it’s assistance that can be meaningfully rendered.) I don’t want to be discontent all the time. I don’t want to be ungrateful. I don’t want to be a nuisance or a burden to people. I don’t want to be tired. I don’t want to be stuck. I don’t want to be caught in the same patterns and loops as I’ve always been in. I don’t want to be anxious. I don’t want to be lonely. I don’t want to feel limited and constrained and boxed up. I don’t want to live in Yishun. I don’t want to stay in Singapore all my life. I don’t want to die without having read the best books and watched the best movies. I don’t want to be stuck with people I find miserable and annoying. I don’t want to have shitty information in my diet.

I can do something about all of that, init. I don’t want to be a procrastinator. I don’t want to put things off. I don’t want to be someone who can’t be trusted.

“A living thing seeks above all else to discharge its strength. Life itself is will to power.” I guess I feel powerless and that drains me. What’s the point of being articulate if you can’t lift heavy ass weights? If you can’t charm people? I don’t know. There are surely people cursed (or blessed) by chance who’re paralyzed and not at all charming. Stephen Hawking does physics. He’s definitely charming though. There are all these inspirational speakers, going around inspiring people with the fact that they’re inspirational speakers. Good for them, man. I genuinely mean that.

Well, it looks like when I think I’m drunk or I’m imagining that I’m drunk I just become a boring grumpy motherfucker myself. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. I’m going to bed.