that’s a pile of rubble

Look not too long in the face of the fire, O man! Never dream with thy hand on the helm! Turn not thy back to the compass; accept the first hint of the hitching tiller; believe not the artificial fire, when its redness makes all things look ghastly. To-morrow, in the natural sun, the skies will be bright; those who glared like devils in the forking flames, the morn will show in far other, at least gentler, relief; the glorious, golden, glad sun, the only true lamp—all others but liars!

Nevertheless the sun hides not Virginia’s Dismal Swamp, nor Rome’s accursed Campagna, nor wide Sahara, nor all the millions of miles of deserts and of griefs beneath the moon. The sun hides not the ocean, which is the dark side of this earth, and which is two thirds of this earth. So, therefore, that mortal man who hath more of joy than sorrow in him, that mortal man cannot be true—not true, or undeveloped. With books the same. The truest of all men was the Man of Sorrows, and the truest of all books is Solomon’s, and Ecclesiastes is the fine hammered steel of woe. “All is vanity.” ALL. This wilful world hath not got hold of unchristian Solomon’s wisdom yet. But he who dodges hospitals and jails, and walks fast crossing graveyards, and would rather talk of operas than hell; calls Cowper, Young, Pascal, Rousseau, poor devils all of sick men; and throughout a care-free lifetime swears by Rabelais as passing wise, and therefore jolly;—not that man is fitted to sit down on tomb-stones, and break the green damp mould with unfathomably wondrous Solomon.

But even Solomon, he says, “the man that wandereth out of the way of understanding shall remain” (i.e. even while living) “in the congregation of the dead.” Give not thyself up, then, to fire, lest it invert thee, deaden thee; as for the time it did me. There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness. And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he for ever flies within the gorge, that gorge is in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is still higher than other birds upon the plain, even though they soar.

the try-works

my favorite chapter from ‘moby-dick’

“so, therefore, that mortal man who hath more of joy than sorrow in him, that mortal man cannot be true”

jesus, dude

i look around and i get sad when i see people who get whatever they want, and i think about the amount of time they’ve spent on earth and how their accumulation of wealth is nauseatingly disproportionate

“there just ain’t enough time for that jerkoff to have made that kind of scratch without someone else’s help”

it’s like the fella said about rich kids: “some people are born on third base and go through life thinking they hit a triple”

yeah

i knew a couple of trustfunders once

what a bunch of fucking assholes

no sympathy, baby

sorry

I AM ENDING THIS LONELY DIATRIBE WITH A PASSAGE FROM THE FIRST CHAPTER OF ‘MOBY-DICK’:

And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. But being paid,—what will compare with it? The urbane activity with which a man receives money is really marvellous, considering that we so earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills, and that on no account can a monied man enter heaven. Ah! how cheerfully we consign ourselves to perdition!

nobody on this planet should be wealthy

that’s what i think anyway

seeya

tonight i was slumped over in the back booth at ruby room washing down three aspirin with a beer

then on the ride home i was approached by three friendly prostitutes at a stoplight

so i guess that kind of sums up my entire life right now

back in september, i made a humble request:

can someone make a painting of me exiting a black starship onto a dark barren icy moon

and on my starship is a huge smeary skull with star-shaped eye sockets

and i’m wearing a black spacesuit and screaming inside my suit

and dante is standing next to me in a little grey spacesuit

thank’s

well, wouldn’t you know it, my friend katrijn in belgium came through:

duuuudddeeeeee

lookit! i’m even wearing adidas sambas! and dante’s little face is so cute!

ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

thanks friendo <3

earth blows

the final superficiality of the world

a cockroach-infested nuclear disneyland in a crater at the bottom of a poison ocean