The world is an old canvas painted over many times.

I watched American Psycho again. I feel really violent after watching it. Predictably, I think of Freud; the fine construct of the ego as an overlay that pushes down a surplus of aggression. Sex is essentially violent, just as violence is essentially an expression of love. And love is really just a construct of the libido that allows us to fulfill our drives in a socially acceptable way. Or is it? Freud thinks so. Who gives a shit, right? What the fuck do I think? Part of being a critical thinker is to wade through the bullshit and decide what is good or bad, valid or invalid. But these are just value judgements. This is an entirely subjective process. It comes down to: what is useful for me? Is this item of knowledge going to reinforce what I want to believe about myself and my relationships and everything outside of me or is it going to challenge my assumptions? Freud makes me want to throw myself in front of a subway car due to the meaninglessness of all existence. Not really. Sometimes.

I think it is significant that Patrick Bateman’s character is defined as a “lack.”

Humans are like eggs. Our insides covered by protective, translucent shells. These shells are prone to cracking under pressure. Often very little pressure is required to instigate a break. The surface splits open and the yolk drips out. The yolk is unfertilized, suspended in fluid. Unrealized potential. Identities leak out of shells, exposed, vulnerable against hot pavement. Frying like eggs in a pan. Individuals as breakfast.

We are only fit for consumption. We are commodities bred of psycho-analysis, post-modern fragmentation, post-structuralism, post-, post-, post-. I identify with John Lennon when he sings “everybody’s talking about this-ism, that-ism, ism ism ism” and the fucking fatigue all this shit produces. I feel so heavy and infected by all this theory, turning me into a pretentious intellectual fuck. At what point does knowledge become completely destructive rather than productive? Universities are telling us to become unique, original thinkers but we’re all learning the same shit, we’re all products of the same intellectual movements, we’re all just unoriginal, pretentious fucks. I try really hard not to be self-deprecating or pretentious. I’m failing on both accounts.

Does somebody want to move to the country with me and start a farm? This is a fantasy of mine.


I like when things like this happen, like a chain:

First of all there was a third sex, the androgynous, combining the two, with four arms and legs, and the rest to match. Men had become very strong, and troublesome to the Olympian gods, yet they could not afford to annihilate them; so Zeus resolved to cut them in half to humble them. He declared that they shall walk upright on two legs, but each forever desiring his other half, so they will come together, and throwing their arms about one another, be entwined in mutual embraces, longing to grow into one. Each of us when separated is always looking for his other half.

-Plato, “Symposium”

It seemed that our two natures blent
Into a sphere from youthful sympathy,
Or else, to alter Plato's parable,
Into the yolk and white of the one shell.

-Yeats, “Among School Children”

Somewhat disturbing is the sound of birds singing
when you know you don't deserve it
You’re not here today
and I feel just like an empty eggshell,
My yoke is heavy.

-Daniel Johnston, “My Yoke is Heavy”




Be happy, y’all.
xo