Pardon me while I get all philosophical and shit, but nobody else exists besides myself. There’s absolutely nobody else that truly exists and there’s no way that you can prove to me that they do. I know the whole idea may seem like a bummer to you. The whole idea that I’m the only person completely alone in this world. I’m going somewhere with this, so just bear with me, but in hopes of depressing you more, let me just say that I love when friends and family and ex-girlfriends and shit die. I know I’ve said this in an earlier blog, but just in order to continue the celebration of death, I thought I’ld reiterate the thought. Especially when ex-girlfriends die, that’s the best since they were already dead to me in the first place, and all it means is that they can’t go on in the world fucking other guys. Am I antagonizing you yet? Have I said the wrong thing yet? Have you already decided to defriendsterize me? Well, good, and by the way, “fuck you” in quotes, “fuck you” figuratively speaking you gotta understand.
So, anyway, as I was saying, I’ld like to test the boundaries of pain. I’ld like to experience someone really, really close to me dying to see if I truly, way deep down don’t give a fuck.
You see, all of the recent deaths that have happened were people back in Texas or down in Mexico, and all of those people are already kind of dead to me in the first place; kind of like the ex-girlfriends, so whatever, you know? What does it really matter to me anyway?
So, I’m getting way off track here. The original idea that I wanted to convey was that there’s no such thing as a selfless act.
There’s no such thing as charity. Mother Teresa was a fucking selfish bastard and I hope she burns in hell. If doing nice stuff for other people felt bad, you know damn well that you wouldn’t even bother to do it. When you get somebody a present, you just do it because it makes you look nice, and usually makes other people treat you nice back. It’s really a form of manipulation. Also when you do something nice, you’re really doing it just to make yourself feel good, because truly deep down, you don’t believe that that person even exists. There’s nothing to prove it besides your five senses, and you know just like me that it’s unwise to trust them. Reality is so flimsy, and it’s constantly being manipulated by artificial sources; none of which is even human, originally.
I don’t even know what it is.
So, the question that I’m posing to myself here is that if nobody else exists besides myself, than why am I posting this blog up on the Internets for other people to read?
If nobody else exists, than why don’t I just finish up my book, put it in a box, and put it underneath my house in storage?
So, what in the fuck is it that I’m really trying to say here?
Oh, damn, I’ve done it again. I set out trying to prove a point and all I did was to disprove it.
What’s really the point of all this? self exploration I suppose, and there’s nothing wrong with that, god damn it because I live in the fucking U.S. and I have so much fucking leisure time, and so little to worry about that I can just sit around and get drunk and ponder stuff, and that’s a beautiful thing is what I’m saying. You know, I hate everything that this country stands for, but damn it’s the sweet life living here. Isn’t it? c’mon, you gotta admit.
So, if you’re Al Quaeda, or however the fuck it’s spelled, I don’t even care, I would just like to express my desire to join your cause. Let’s bomb the hell out of some stuff, especially in San Diego. All those people deserve to die. Every last one of them; especially the babies.
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read this and than take me off of your MySpace
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