#391

Personally, I'm pumped for the apocalypse, because if it is adequately timed (looking good so far) it will absolve me from the weighty and multitudinous responsibilities tied into making this perverted, upside-down fuckery of a world into a better place. That'll be over with and thank God. 

While uncomfortable and certain to place me in situations which will force me to leave all accrued humanity and dignity in the trash, the end of the world will bring with it very tantalizing freedoms: from the concept of employability, from mortgages, interest, insurance, post-cash economies--from every other gray, soul-poisoning idea this George Orwell/Phil K. Dick Unworld that I hate so fucking much has ruined our lives with, stitched together as it has been by droves of psychopathic pedophiles and shameless rapists.

All that horseshit, I pray, will be torn from the face of our honest Earth like a caul, its putrescent, vile distortions and pusillanimous demands shattered like a funhouse mirror.

Basically, in my dream apocalypse everything that makes me want to blow my brains out will be gone, to be replaced by the brutal reality of few simple goals.

So whatever. Fuck the world. You're one of the fuckers that doesn't give a shit because you're safe? Kill it dead. Do it! 

Just pray I don't survive, because what I will do to you when a society of manners is not there as a mitigating field of expectations and commitments is something that I cannot write down. I haven't even thought of it yet. Right now, it's literally unthinkable.

But when the time comes, I'll know.

*

I would personally prefer to make the world we have a better place. That is childish, I suppose. A thought for the nineteen-nineties. 

Better will have to come after. The people who thought themselves fit to call the shots in our time dropped the ball in a way I wouldn't have expected a drunken chimpanzee to fuck it up. I mean what a bunch of fucking brain surgeons. I look around at these idiots in their suits and pantsuits with their hair combed and their cufflinks and their tall tall buildings and I want to cry and cry, these idiot bivalves, these maladroits, seriously considering themselves better than us. 

Telling me what's good for me as they drip venom into the very living soil. As they set fire to the atmosphere. As they enslave and lie and torture and set off bombs and call for our support. Our fucking support! They take money out of our pockets with one hand, and they ask for more with the other, all sitting above us on a pile of gold. 

Absolutely incredible.

--JL