Deaf Monkey Mission Statement 2013

I don’t really know where my head will be at writingwise for the next however long (a year I’m guessing?), so I’m just going to throw out a few general ideas that may show up:

Nothing that is new is ever good anymore.

Nothing was ever actually good, and you liking it isn’t going to change that.

Everything you like is actually bad.  You just enjoyed it with the wrong approach and therefore under false pretenses.

Anything good is never as good as its advertised, and we are all promised lives that literally no one can have, not even those that allegedly do. It is all fabrication and exponentially self-replicating in the realm of the imagination of collective misery. We are all wearing blinders and that carrot on a stick’s made out of cardboard. That whip, on the other hand, is real and hurts quite a bit.

Your childhood is gone and you will never have it back, which is the one of the greatest tragedies life can (and will) deal to the average person.

The idea of an ‘average person’ is fallacious at best and universally harmful at worst. It always edges towards that ‘worst’ part.

Inequality, prejudice, and ignorance still reign supreme, and the optimists on the forefront of the idealistic ‘change’ are deluding themselves or, on the off chance that they’re actually doing something significant about it, they’re ramming their heads into a brick wall while the bloodthirsty hounds of those in control lick up the pulpy remains of those who tried before them.

That the previous statement probably made you think of me sitting in a Che Guevara t-shirt with my thumb up my ass.

Cancer is still a thing. So’s AIDS.

Weather’s crazier than it used to be. What’s the deal with that?

Everything you use to escape from all of these facts will inevitably kill you out of direct physical harm or otherwise holding you down while time’s pendulum slowly ticks lower and lower, its edge relentlessly hungry for your naked flesh.

You will never matter as much as you hope to or think you will. Shoot for the moon,  consider yourself lucky if you get high enough to not be able to breathe anymore.

There’s still that weird effect about deservedness and it being distributed inversely to what it seems like it should be divvied out as.

Just because you’re correct doesn’t mean you’re ‘right,’ it’s just a factor in it that has less influence than you’d like to believe.

Objective truth is bullshit.

Subjective truth is bullshit.

Calling things bullshit is bullshit.

That your life and all its trappings are so horrifyingly fragile that even your worst-case scenario preparations cannot prepare for how far one can truly fall without the framework of the earth holding them up, and them earth’s a fickle bastard that likes dropping away at random intervals.

That True Horror lurks in the mundane; that everything bleeds anxiety because it’s a structural institution that as long as you’re alive in this particular world you can’t escape, and that there aren’t terribly many options of other locales that don’t have this curious phenomenon.

That only a select few ever get the chance to claw their peers’ eyes out up to the top of the ladder of success, and that once they’re there they have no idea what the hell to exactly do with this ‘power’ thing but that clawing peers’ eyes out thing seemed pretty fun and easy to do.

That you will never fully understand what is going on and that it’s probably better that way. Ignorance isn’t so much bliss as it is a survival mechanism.

That broad, sweeping platitudes are empty and don’t reveal anything, they’re just used to fill up space in an ever-asphyxiating information sphere that doesn’t know how to sort itself out.

And the fact that these are all probably bitter hyperbole and that some people have a normal life. That’s right. You’re the only one who’s different. In a culture of faux-individuality, you’re a real individual. The bad kind that you don’t want to be.

Finally, how we all have to hold onto each other in this godawful centrifuge to prevent each and every one of us from being smeared on its walls, because that’s all we can do until someone figures out how to fix this stupid fucking  thing. Aww. How nice.

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