The Nonsensical Journal

I walk around with a fake sense of smug superiority to those around me, fueling it further with the knowledge that, as aforementioned, it is… Fake. Think the movie ‘inception’ for a demented internal monologue that accompanies a silent slightly disturbed individuals deluded fantasy within fantasy… You follow?

You shouldn’t follow, following makes you a follower… We are raised to be leaders, if you’re a follower you’ve failed… Unless you’re a leader who has lost his way; but who gets lost nowadays with GPS technology really? Plus every time a leader loses his way he manages to make a brilliant and triumphant come back and that’s not so bad… Well, it’s usually bad for the people murdered and killed in his wake, but that’s what good patriotic stories are made of…

Notice how the leader was male? It was unintentional I assure you, it was the result of a sexist misogyny indoctrination from the time of my innocent youth via relentless social and traditional standards of culture and society; which have ultimately invaded my subconscious psyche leading to these ‘acceptable’ slips… One can only be conscious of so many politically correct landmines to maneuver on the daily…

I want to say it should be simpler; I should be able to say ‘inappropriate’ words and have it taken as just a matter of speech… Unfortunately due to the existence of reputable organizations such as the KKK we will never be able to achieve such a laid back social setting… In the meantime, I apologize if I have, or might have, offended any gender, be it male, female, transgender, bigender, trigender, pangender, genderfluid, agender, to be determined gender, quasi bourgeois gender…

Early on in life I learned a life lesson about winning and losing, it involved the much dreaded Sports Day and… a barrel… I was perhaps 9 years of age and signed up to the three man barrel race. The objective was to race for whatever distance it was until you reach the barrel and jump into it, after which your teammates would roll your ass back across the field… this race was apparently designed by someone who failed their interview for employment at Guantanamo Bay…

Upon reaching the barrel my teammates and I engaged in a little struggle over who would be in the barrel, all of us thought it would be fun, and with a final sense of self-assured victory I just jumped in and ‘won’ that argument… As they rolled me back to the finish line, and as I tumbled up, down, round and round covered in my vomit, I learned that winning might not be everything it’s hyped up to be, and I learned that sometimes we win while covered in vomit, and perhaps, just perhaps… that wasn’t winning after all…

This is why ever since then I have been a self-declared and proud loser… Without losers there would be no winners…

This sense of fake superiority (see opening paragraph) is supplemented by the fact that it’s fake, meaning I’m just as shit as everyone else, but because I realize I am as bad, some would even argue much worse, than everyone, it makes me better than you… It’s the double negative clause of life and through it I have found a loophole and transform myself from a loser to a winner all the while remaining a loser…

I’m feeling a bit hungry… Sorry thinking out loud… Unfortunately for any vegetarian/vegan readers I have to admit that many lovable farm animals were harmed in the making of my meals… It does feel a bit worrying sometimes to think of something living that was someone’s parent, offspring and sibling become a steak, but … damn it smells good, and damn it tastes even better… Don’t judge, vegetables are alive too, or are we saying that only live things that have emotions and feel pain are okay to kill and eat?

To that I say two things… First, who decided that vegetables feel no pain? Just because the poor bastards were created without the means to vocalize doesn’t mean they’re not screaming in agony within the confines of some sort of vegetated psyche… Second, are we saying that if it’s alive but feels no pain then it’s okay to devour it?

If that’s the case, I have a niche market for vegetarians to eat meat… Paraplegic cattle! They feel nothing from the neck down and would probably be led off to the slaughter with a look of gratitude in their eyes; it’s a win-win scenario really…

There is no method to my Sparta… I mean, madness… I just provide rotten food for necromantic decrepit thoughts; and if you follow my thoughts then know there is no place for us followers in todays lively society… This world belongs to the sociopaths and the winners, and if you’re reading this drivel then you’re most likely neither.