Saturday, October 9, 2004

Somewhere Out There, cont.

V
I’m lying here and I’m thinking, thinking about Laurice, thinking about everything. You know how it is, you lie in your bed and thoughts leak into you. Come into you. It can’t be helped, and happens.

What I’m thinking is, we’re just organic machines. We’re machines, built by nature. Built by evolution.

We’d like to think we’ve got a soul. We’d like to think there’s love, there’s a God, that our existence has a real meaning, we can change the world, that there’s good and evil. We’d like to think, but none of it’s true.

All we are is, is a teeming mass of people. A mass of cells, of atoms. Of tissues. Of organs. And like the cogs in a clock, like a car, like any machine, all of what we’re made of works in concert to create what we are.

Pain’s not real. It’s just created in the brain, and relayed to us. It’s a defense mechanism. It’s our body telling us not to hurt ourselves, not to kill ourselves. It’s the self-perpetuating power of the human. Of all other animals. It’s survival.

We humans, we go against nature. We create our own natures. We’ve got clothes, we’ve got stores, buildings, computers, TVs. Guns, plastic surgery.

We’re not happy with a sunset. We’re not happy with just sitting out in the open woods, the moon shimmering up there. We’re not happy with an open field, we’re not happy but with what we make as nature.

Naturally, we’d be naked. It’s the way nature made us. Dogs get to walk around naked. Cats do. Rats do. Squirrels, raccoons, elephants. Any animal known to man but himself is naked.

Naturally, we’d live out in nature, unchanged. We’d not assimilate areas, not urbanize them. Not build houses, not build skyscrapers, not build roads.

Everything in the world, it’s synthetic.

Women, they’re supposed to wear this ridiculous make up. They’re supposed to be thin, they’re supposed to be what’s labeled as “beautiful.” Beautiful, meaning they’ve got to make a lot of sacrifices. They’ve got to either drop dead, or get pretty.

They’re supposed to be obsessed with looking beautiful. They’re supposed to cry and get all pissed when they don’t have big tits, so they go out and get a breast augmentation. They’re supposed to look at their nose and think it’s too wide, it’s not thin enough, so they need to go get a nose job. Their asses, they’re not good enough for anybody, they’re ugly, they’ve got to get an ass job. Their face, it’s ugly, they’ve got to go under the knife, change that. Widen the space between their eyebrows. Get fuller lips. Womens’ chests, they’re too fat, holy shit, they’ve got to get liposuction. They’ve got to starve themselves, not eat anything. Become anorexic. Become bulimic. Barf up all their food.

And in reality, all we are, is flesh machines. Our heart beats, supplying our body with blood, which allows everything to get nourished consistently. Our lungs breathe in the air to oxygenize our blood. Our brain controls all of our autonomic processes. It controls the heartbeat. It controls breathing.

It controls sex drive, the need to keep our species alive. We’re the products of evolution.

In our world today, there’s no natural selection. Natural selection, that’s when nature allows the better-suited genes to survive.

For example, if a mentally handicapped guy named Bob was born in nature, he’d die. For example, if someone with dwarfism was born in nature, they’d die. For example, if George Bush was born in nature, he’d die.

But instead, the worse genes keep going on. Genes which make it so someone’s more prone to cancer, so someone’s more prone to getting obese, just like every other American.

With our societies, organized as they are, being a veritable cesspool, bad genes are all over the place. Everyone’s fucking screwed.

In essence, we’re inhibiting evolution. Slowing it down. Making it go in reverse, even. It’s because we fight against nature, we make our own nature, a hell with roads, people squirming all over the place, businesses, commerce, machines we’ve made. We’re fighting viruses, bacteria, and natural selection’s making the tougher ones survive.

Say Donald ruptured his heart. In nature, he’d die, but since we’ve got heart transplants, Donald survives.

Say Larry’s got cancer, and does Chemo. In nature, he’d die, but since he got the Chemo, he lives. And goes on and has sex with Lisa, and has kids who pass on his cancer gene, and then their kids go have sex when they’re old enough, and pass on the cancer until who the hell knows when, to the point where every human on the earth is dying from cancer.

We might as well just commit suicide already.

We might as well not even exist. Because inevitably, our race’s going to go extinct. That’s something that can’t be stopped.

For example, the sun’s going to become a red giant, eventually, when it’s all used up. It’ll swallow the Earth whole then. For example, a meteor could hit the Earth at any time, it’s just a matter of time. For example, we’ll fight pithy wars, and maybe we’ll nuke the shit out of each other, and we’ll all die from radiation. For example, the AIDs virus evolves so it can become airborne, and we all die like fucking flies.

It’s all against us. The human race is a collection of star-crossed lovers. We love to learn, to find out things, but our own love is probably going to kill us, or show us how we’re going to get killed, and become extinct.

There’s probably already some other race out there, some aliens with bulbous eyes, sinuous movement, who’ll outlast us anyway. We’re pretty insignificant.

Maybe they’re significant. Maybe, we could hook up with these aliens, have some tentacle sex, and get a cross-breeding of our two races, and create an uber-race to rape the entire world.

Or not.

I’m going to bed. First, I’ll think about Laurice, then I’ll wake up tomorrow, and go to my classes.

VI

I sit in my class. There’s some teacher up there, blabbering on forever. Some students, they’ve got their hands on their chin, they’re listening to what’s being heard. Other students, they’re reading from their books. Other students aren’t even here, and in the big assembly hall, there’s empty desks.

This is what you pay for. This is college. You have to go through this shit in order to get a degree, so you can get some job so you can get money so you can stay alive. You have to listen to some lecturer go on and on about some subject which doesn’t mean jack shit, which never will mean jack shit in the long run to you.

Maybe you’ll absorb something that you’ll remember, maybe you’ll learn some interesting fact. Maybe. But when it comes down to it, what matters is experience. It’s when you put what you’ve learned into action, actually do something with it. That’s when you remember it.

More than half the shit you learn in college, you won’t even use at your job. It’s such a waste of time.

For some people, it’s a party. A big party. Get drunk each night, have sex. Get wasted. “Shitfaced,” as they say.

For some people, it’s working hard as hell. They get some part-time shitty job, then they study and do homework when they’re not in class, and they go to all their classes – perfect attendance.

There’s people like me, who just “go through the motions.” People who are doing what they have to do, even if they don’t like it. People who are apathetical monsters. Who really could give a big shit less. Who just want to make it through life, and get the most out of it doing what they like to do, not the stupid shit like college.

The instructor might as well not even be saying anything. You might as well just drop dead right there.

This is the rest of your life.

More and more and more dulling down, more shit, more indoctrination. Brain washing. Soon enough, you’ll lose yourself. Soon enough, you’ll become what you didn’t want to be. You’ll be what you thought you’d told yourself never to become.

You’ll be another passing face in this place. You’ll work most of your life, you’ll get your money. Have your funeral. Get buried. Maybe have kids.

This is it. You’ll be another forgotten name.

Sitting here in class, I just don’t care. But I make myself care. Me, the crazy bastard, I just think of Laurice. I just think about how I’d like to be sleeping, forever. How I’d like to not even exist.

The instructor’s writing some useless, humdrum shit on the board. Some formula, which is pointless. I’d just like to close my eyes. I’d just like to give up. But I can’t, I’m fucked. I’ve got to listen, retain this information.

I do it because I have to. I do it because there’s no other way.

You’ve just got to push yourself again and remind yourself, this is the rest of your life. More slaving away. More useless garbage, with a few good, more bad moments. This is your upheaval. This is it. Your life.

The bell rings, people get up. I view all the beautiful women, the organic machines, built by cells, by tissues, by genes, by DNA. Each moment, they’re aging. Each moment, their beauty they’ve got, it’s fading. Right now they’re at their prime. They’re ready to have their brains fucked out

Get to work. Got to make the next generation, so we can keep this going.
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