(This post will be easier to stomach if you pretend I’m 19 years old and just finished the first day of my first college-level philosophy class. Please, if you can, pretend for a second that I’m not a delusional 29-year-old man who thinks that the whole world is huge scam made out of cardboard and held together with pipe cleaners and twine, and that the true nature of reality (lol) is intentionally kept hidden from us by desperate little men in their pasteboard masks.)


I don’t read the news anymore. I don’t believe in politicians or celebrities. Television and newspapers and magazines and websites all that other HORSESHIT. . . man it’s straight up a big mountain of trash and I don’t believe in it. Taken as a whole it may as well be a big room of balloons to me, I guess, if that even makes sense. I reject THE WHOLE WORLD. That place blows and I don’t need it anymore.

I have known for a long time, and you’ve probably known too, that that stuff depresses you and makes you feel worthless on a molecular level. It is maybe insidiously invisible a lot of the time because of your constant exposure to it. How do you even escape it? I guess you just don’t look at it. It’s hard as hell not to. I’m trying anyway, because I’m unmarried and have no children and will probably be dead in 10 years.

So now I have Project Gutenberg open and I’m reading these public domain sci-fi short stories from the ’50s and ’60s. Today I was reading ‘The Tunnel Under the World’. Hey!

And, for god’s sake, not to sound like one of those assholes who says “I don’t even own a TV”, but I really am leaving my phone in airplane mode pretty much all the time, or just not bringing it with me. I’ve been doing that sometimes and it makes me feel a li’l better. I mean it’s at least one thing I have control over to make myself feel better. The rest is still a huge nightmare that is going to crush me into sawdust sooner than later. OK.

I wrote a short sci-fi story for my friend Mikaylah’s (<3) little literary journal thing. Should I post it here?? Maybe! I gotta make more of that stuff. What else am I supposed to do? I tune out when I make stuff. All the other crap in my life isn’t enough to not make me feel insane, and I feel insane anyway.

Well there you have it. I’m a child. Bye.