This one is just too good to pass up. I dig this shit. I'm not sure why -- I think it's because if the guy really lives his life this way, then I'm impressed with the inner strength it takes to pull it off.
Now, if EVERYONE sent me e-mails like this, or wrote homepages like this, THAT would be what I would want to read. I would gobble it up. This stuff exudes the maturation of one's own philosophy. Just what I crave.
Read the old rants. This has the ingredients of what I'm looking for in what YOU people write on the Web. Unfortunately, many people get through life without any deep conflict at all, so their personalities are crude and uncarved. Little to write about.
I don't subscribe to the viewpoint in this post, which basically says life is meaningless. I can't agree with that. I've brought up many examples in the past of why I can't agree. But to each his own, especially if he can hold his own in defending his views.
Not trying to put this post up as some sort of attraction or show, but merely because it accomplishes what I want writing to accomplish. It shows the deepest roots and how they grow into the greenest leaves. It shows one's whole life inside the time capsules of paragraph spacing. It's human.
I don't ask for peoples' opinions often online, because they very rarely give them. But if you have any thoughts about this post, I'd love to hear them. This is one of the three best posts I've ever read.
i used to be an elitist, a rabid elitist-- of course, then i was one of the elite. after all, all elitists include themselves as the elite, right? but then i became a loser--i can't really justify my place in the elite any more. i just am not there. shoot my iq as high as you please, make me sats and gres and other scores as great as you wish--hey, toss in the fact that i've read virgil and martial and our buddy chick-pea in the original latin--and i've forgotten more latin than anyone in this group will ever fucking know. toss in classics, more classics, more elitist classics, and just basically hypereducate the fuck out of me why don't you? that's what everyone wanted for me, that's what you all forced on me. never mind that all i wanted this time was just to curl up and die, just stop motion, just crawl into a hole with as much smack as i can afford and pull the fucking hole in after me. just leave me the fuck alone. i hate the whole human race--you especially --especially you, the fucker reading this right now. no, you think this is fucking amusing, don't you? you think the absolute meaninglessness of life is a goddamn joke, an amusing irony, a little pun to add to your fucking elitist bits of knowledge about the world-- and hey, have you read laurence sterne? no, you haven't, probably. in all likelihood, you haven't. have you read stendhal? really? did you _understand_ it? think carefully, you fucking elitist swine. c'mon--FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU! you scum. just so you know, i can out-elite you any fucking day of the week, straight sober or drunk out of my mind, psychotic, or on a dozen hallucinogens, so fuck you and fuck you again. don't even fucking PULL elitist bullshit on me. WHAT elite? the elite that pulls ironic little jokes while half the world's dying, and thinks life's there for the amusement of oh oh oh that noble one percent. fuck you. but for an accident of fate you'd be starving your lame ass to bones, and so would i, instead of excoriating you for your utter lameness. again, i suppose you think it's fucking amusing. this emptiness isn't just mine, you know. it's yours, too. and like i said, i used to be an elitist. then i lost one whole hell of a lot. i lost a hell of a lot of friends, i lost my goddamn god. i lost so many reasons for existence that i really don't know why i _didn't_ pull that fucking trigger. so don't fucking tell me anything. you don't know SHIT about me just so you know. i've done the best i can to show the inside of my head to you guys, but you guys can't even tell me from some fucker posting two years of alt.angst thrown into a waring blender, so don't even fucking claim you know me. you can't even tell me from someone who doesn't even exist. as evocative as anything i write is, it's basically ignored. it's deleted tomorrow. and you're deleted tomorrow too smartass-- hey, there's no room for you on this disk. just so you know--that's the way your life is, too. you're gonna fucking die, as uselessly as you lived, for no fucking reason at all, as elite and as top one-hundredth of one-hundredth of one-hundredth percentile of intelligence as you are--you'll die in senility and shit and your own worthlessness as any paleolithic denizen. yeah, this seems funny now. i'm sure you're amused--just more henry ranting like an idiot. . . but how often did you visit your grandparents as they drifted off to death? not too often, right? you think you'll be visited any more often? besides by bedpan nurses, insurance adjusters and the inevitable embalmer? how fucking elite will you be then? how elite will you be when the worms are eating your entrails? yeah. i used to be elite. but i've lost too goddamn much. now i accept _anyone_. _anyone_. dammit. you fucking elitists. some day, maybe, if you're _stupid_ elitists, on your deathbed-- smarter elistists realize this sooner-- any warmth, any kind of company, any shared perspective is better than this absolute ascii void, this nothing, this pain we like to call home. h
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