Introduction
I have gotten some interesting response to this series of articles about the elephants in the collective rooms of men and women. Unfortunately unless I just make this a permanent and ongoing article, there’s no way that I’m going to hit everything that there is to rant about. So in terms of responses, I have heard that I was not at my peak with the last entry because it "pulled too many punches". I would agree with that assessment because I purposely tried to be very diplomatic about how I worded things. In addition to this, in an attempt to be non-combative, I may have omitted some things as well. I stand behind the rationale that I used at the time but, I will seek not make this "error" again and return to the ways of the gadfly in the next entry. So as far as my usual disclaimers for anything I write go…Fuck you. There, I said it.
A few words on truth: Before I do any more major articles I wanted to just give a very late foreword on my concept of truth, flawed and human as it may be. As I recently told a pretty girl, its late getting written prol'ly cause I'm black and as a part of my government issued reparations package; I can be late exactly 3 important things every week. Joking aside, unfortunately as a primer, this will be serious and I will warn you that this foreword will end in the manner most unsavory to our collective culture. It is also for the most part, unedited so please excuse my typo infested typing.
Generally, I like to stand by the truth except in the cases where lying is an absolute necessity; and lying is a necessity often times when dealing with people. Why is this? In my experience, I find that people say that they want the truth, but they really want validation. What they want is the truth to sync up with their imagination. Unfortunately this is generally not the case in this maw we call life. The general truth is that life sucks, or should I say that it is made up of generally non-equal portions of good and bad experiences. Rather than black or white, it is a distinct shade or morphing gray. Unfortunately people try look at this Rorschach test and claim to see solids in the goo.
This is not to intentionally sound pessimistic, but as people, our experiences are going to vary wildly on a case by case basis. Also there is the wild card of perspective. One experience may have a lasting effect on one individual, and that exact same experience may scar another individual for life. As aforementioned in previous posts, there are those of you that would disagree vehemently with this very glib assessment that life kinda sucks, or that life is gray. I would contend to these people that they are the ones that exhaust their entire being trying to distract themselves from objectively measuring reality. They struggle to immerse themselves in things that make them feel much larger than they alone can possibly be. This is a vain attempt to feel invulnerable to that fact that time and fate will make dust of us all. They hide behind the lies and mistruths that they are fed or that they invent. They cling to anything that will feed their need to feel superior.
As a man defines himself by pain and pleasure, though largely unconscious, we are all in struggle to the top hill every day to maximize pleasure and minimized pain; this often at the expense of maximizing someone else’s pain. Personally, as anyone who knows me well will tell you, I don’t think of myself as a pessimist, but rather a grounded idealist with a generous spoonful of nihilism and skepticism. I would venture to say that my main goal is to live in the world as it is, without distractions or blinders, and still maintain some semblance of internal order. I think that very few people can look at the world without illusions or glasses on as it is much worse than staring into the sun. In laymen’s terms; it sucks because it’s fucking depressing. Consequently, most people go mad when they try to do it; they break from stress.
So the illusions that people follow on a day to day basis do have some point because they allow us to function somewhat efficiently as a society. Everyone does what they’re told and they don’t ask tough questions. As reality is a largely a matter of the aforementioned perceptions, many people view these illusions, as the bedrock on which they stand. Often this leads to denial of counterpoint to such a degree that it perpetuates violence and or hostility. In this way, hate and war is a creation of man. It is the very thing that defines us a species, despite our large propensity for empathy and caring. Hate stems from our innate need to feel safe. As a result, man is a dichotic conundrum; he is innately split between the concepts of love and hate. This is in our nature as the desire to acquire and hoard.
Thusly, a human truth cannot be solely composed of all that is light or good, just a life cannot be summed up as bad in its entirety. The variables of choice and perspective prevent this. I acknowledge this impossibility of singular truth a basis for all statements, however as man without self-imposed boundaries who is loyal to no illusions or morality, when asked I will always remind you that as you climb up this hill that we call life, there is naught but a six foot hole for you and a rock with your name on it if you’re lucky enough for anyone to care that much. That is for all those individuals who seek solely to define and elevate themselves by smiling and condemning in the light, and bathing in blood at night. For you I have nothing but unending hatred. It is you deny what you are and try to liken yourselves to the watered-down now dead concept of a God, of popular virtue. For you I will speak truth as much as you abhor it. In the end, it doesn’t really matter anyway. As two flies fighting for a space on the dung heap on a summer night, what will their lives have meant in the grand scheme of all that we call reality? For all their flight and fancy, they are still just flies on shit. So you have to ask yourself, do you really want truth in all of its imperfection, or do you want an illusion that makes you feel safe in your bed at night? Does an illusion really make you feel safe at night as that illusion is really just a manifestation of fear? Is writing these words merely a paltry attempt to widen someone’s perspective? Is it a whimsical attempt to entertain? Is it a self-aggrandizing masturbatory aide to propel myself further up the hill and you, the reader, and further down as a consequence? Is it an act of idealistic love, seething hate, or ever-present apathy? Is it just a sad nihilistic joke about the frivolity of caring about anything to begin with? Is it black, white, or merely a shade of gray that scares you? In the end do the words of single man matter?
