Love is a Fist

Sometimes I worry that I am too negative of a person. You might have noticed yourself that a large number of my posts tend to sound a bit angry when read. Obviously, obsessive negativity is something to worry about.

But I don't think that this is really my personality. I get excited about as many things as those that make me angry. I think that I am really just a very emotional, expressive person that expresses in words rather than actions. Although everyone might not agree, I think that this is better than many alternatives.

That said, and thusly my concern about my negativity duly noted, I want to briefly mention something.

I take a lot of concern for my species. I see a lot of things going badly for us all, and it deeply bothers me. And one trait of this general "going badly", and one that angers me to no end, is that I find regularly and indiscriminately tied to the fact of this species travails is an incipient sense of entitlement exhibited by its members. Of course, I live in the epicenter of this epidemic, known as New York, but it is everywhere, regardless of location.

What is this all about? What makes people think of themselves as individuals, and expect the world to align according to each's desires? Its one thing to be greedy, and to not be altruistic all the time. But its another thing to do so with the attitude that such behavior is justified. What assholes we all are!

And this is why I sound angry. I think anger is one of the most successful tactics for interrupting this unceasing sense of entitlement. It introjects itself into the very logic of justification, and destroys it on an emotional level, by nothing other than its own justification of anger as a reactive emotion.

I hope it works. There are a lot of people in the world treating other people like shit and acting like its ok. I hope somebody slaps these jerks in the face, and wakes them up. Maybe it will be me, but I doubt it. I only write on a blog.


ps. The happy thought I will balance this post with is Mr. Bungle, the avant-garde band from which I stole this post's title. They are the shit! Listen to them, and get mad! Yay!

70 pages full of pizza

Because my graduate school department (which shall heretofore go unnamed) decided to screw me over, I have had to compose my entire Master's Thesis in one week. It is a good thing that I was already ahead of schedule before the eliminated the schedule, otherwise I would be dead in the street right now, and not sitting on top of 70+ pages on Freud, Derrida, Kristeva, and Marx.

This is my excuse for the scanty posts of late. Next week I should be back at work, which means back on the internet, which means back on the blog. Right now I'm taking time out from my last few pages to steal NYU's internet at the catalog terminal. They won't give me a wireless logon, the bastards! Luckily I can steal this at 230am. I would have earlier, but the place was swamped with NYU jerks instant messaging. I just keep standing up to make sure no one's stealing my laptop from the carrol across the room. The laptop is expensive, sure, but if I lost the thesis now, I would have to light the place on fire. And not that metaphorical, just-talk-about-it fire, the real kind. The kind that burns libraries down with its vengeful anger.

So that's it for now. Maybe, depending how batty I get, there will be another post later tonight. Tell you what: at least I'll update the blog quote to something appropriately philosophical. That Bowie quote has had its day. Move over!

Oh, one other discovery. Drinking soda with pizza will taste like a pizza party, no matter how old I am.

Adam Hates the World Yet Again Today

People keep tapping me on the shoulder and saying, "here, your jacket was on the ground." Goddammit, I know it was on the ground! I threw it there! It annoys me to have a bulky jacket on the back of my chair, so I put it on the ground next to my backpack so I can sit. The other day in the bar 6 people in the span of 5 minutes picked up my jacket and handed it to me, and then I threw it back on the floor. They all act like they are doing me such a favor too, like they made my day by saving my dingy thrift store jacket from "the floor". Jerks. Next time I get a tap on the shoulder and turn around in my chair to see someone holding my coat, I'm going to start screaming, "Hey! Why are you trying to steal my jacket! That's my good jacket! Give me back my jacket!"


Jacket is a stupid word, by the way.