Timestamp- The Point of No Return

With two institutions and four semesters in, there will be no turning back after today. There is no more time find myself or see the world. Of course, I never needed to do either. I have seen enough of the world to know where to be, and my astounding self-absorption never let me lose myself.

Lately I have been wondering if I even have a self.

That last sentence may sound strange to western ears, but it is a pretty common motif elsewhere. Current research seems to indicate that free-will is just a comforting illusion used to rationalize predetermined choices. If that is the case, perhaps I am just a body. Perhaps the “I” in the last sentence was just a schema fashioned by the world to attribute consciousness in a useful organism. Notable humans who have expressed non-self tend to exhibit the most moral actions. Perhaps the universe would be better off if this self-concept inside my body did not exist. Perhaps…


Six finals in half as many days have left me pretty fried. (There I go with a “me”s and “I”s again.) I’ve gotten eight hours of sleep in the last 72. Last night I awoke at 3AM due to an uncertain cause. Exactly two minutes later, I realized that I had a wet dream. It was not any wet dream through; it was if a bucket of come spilled in my bed. I’m the middle of a dry spell. (Obviously, since I had a bucket’s worth of pent-up sperm.) This body needs more sex.

Outside, it’s raining like a scream. I was walking to a final this morning while the clouds were still holding on to their treasures. The moisture in the air was palpable, tangible, an inevitable sign. The first drop landed on my forehead. It was huge, an obese raindrop. Then the rest came, as the clouds released everything they had worked for, giving rain away like homeless billionaires. A girl shrieked for attention, a few others ran for cover, many continued to walk blindly towards the next thing and the next thing and the next. I stopped, took a break, and embraced the tiny gifts…


So I guess I have reached the point of no return. If I go forward, I have simply put too much effort to change my ways. If I turn back, it has to be today, right now, this instant. I sit on the porch, watching the rain fall.

Out of Context Quote From My Family Dinner Last Monday

"I opened it, Justin. I get to hump it."

Garden of Weeds

Life is like a garden. There are flowers that you really want to grow to be beautiful, so you can look at them and bask in the glory of your accomplishments. But grass keeps popping up to kill your flowers.


So you weed the grass, which just facilitates the growth of even more grass. The grass keeps growing and growing and your flowers keep dying and dying until the grass has completely overrun your garden. Eventually you give in and try to tell yourself that your garden isn’t that bad. But not so deep down you know the undeniable truth and accept it. The grass is ugly. Your garden is ugly.


You are ugly.


And your neighbors stare at the scene that has become of your garden. So you stare back, drop your Budweiser, raise your middle finger, and shout, “That’s right! I’m masturbating on my front yard! There’s nothing wrong with it! This is beautiful! Beautiful!” Then you lay back, pull up your pants, and fall gradually into unconsciousness in the middle of your garden of weeds.

Evolution of the Romance/Exploitation Film Genre

The Sheik (1921)
Rudolph Rapistino is an Arab Gang Leader of Arabia, the “land where civilization has so happily passed them by.” Girl Who Is Asking For It pretends to be a hooker, primarily for kicks and giggles. Rudolph Rapistino uses the old “rape a girl so she will fall in love with you” trick. Later, Girl Who Is Asking For It inadvertently reveals her love for Rudolph Rapistino in the most melodramatic-silent-era way before she is captured by rapists who she can not love because they are Arabic. Rudolph Rapistino saves the day. Rapistino and Asking For It live happily ever after, because Rapistino was in fact obviously white and was just raised by the Arabs, in the vein of Mowgli being raised by Bagheera and Baloo in Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book.


The Wild One (1954)
Motorcycling Douchebags trash a small town. Marlon Douchebag wants to sleep with Girl Whose Only Crime Is Her Aversion Of Being Raped. As the night progresses, the Motorcycling Douchebags act more and more like aging gays in a leather bar. Marlon Douchebag cannot sleep with Girl Whose Only Crime Is Her Aversion Of Being Raped, because she speaks English instead of Jive and treats the elderly with respect instead of killing them. An Old Man dies. The Douchebags leave, but not before Marlon Douchebag leaves behind a stolen trinket in order for Girl Whose Only Crime Is Her Aversion Of Being Raped can be reassured that she made the right choice in not being raped.


Knocked Up (2007)
Apotow’s Pothead Friends go to the amusement park, despite the fact that they have no income and that shit don’t come cheap. Katherine Bad Luck gets promoted, and unfortunately this leads to a confluence of events which ruins her life. 1) Katherine Bad Luck is happy. 2) Katherine Bad Luck gets drunk. 3) Katherine Bad Luck ends up sleeping with Seth Pothead. 4) Katherine Bad Luck gets Knocked Up. Seth Pothead makes Jew jokes. The audience feels sorry for Katherine, and really wants her to abort it. Plot demands prevent her from doing so. Women have boobies. Potheads have pot. Apotow’s wife has constipation. Katherine Bad Luck has the baby, and sorta kinda tries to raise the baby with Seth Pothead. Much like statistically similar couples from all regions of the United States, they inevitably divorce two to three years later when the novelty of producing a financial parasite loses its luster. The audience learns that they really liked Juno.

Photo Display of the Evolution of the Romance/Exploitation Film Genre

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Out of Context Quote of Myself During Philosophy Class Last Thursday

"It's not like when little Billy asks how babies are born that you pop in porno and say, 'This is where you put the PENIS in and you KEEP ON A ROCKIN' ' "

Emphasis added by me while I said it.
And yes, I am that kid. Shame does not exist in me.

You know

You know when you life is so scheduled and you have so much to do that you lose your sense of self? That you are no longer a person but a brainless, soul-less robot who only exists through tests, papers, distressing social engangments, and fufilling indeterminate societal expectations?

Oh.

Really?

Yeah, me neither. Just fucking with you.

I'm going to go take a nap,

and some pills,

during my next class.