Anyways, now we're here. I'm writing stuff, I get to a point where I don't want to think about it because it fucks with my head, I leave it unedited, and then I cross my fingers it's palatable somehow... or someone else makes it palatable, I dunno. It's either this exists or it doesn't, and I don't see a timeline where this doesn't exist. I was going to make this.
I just want to be happy. I think I'm happy pretty often... You know that whole supple as a newborn thing? I feel that sometimes. I actually get there, it happens. I feel this... flow state, this perfectly dialed in amount of effort relative to output that yields infinite satisfaction. Zeno of Citium once said that happiness is being in good flow. I don't see myself as a stoic, kind of the way that Zeno doesn't see himself as a cynic despite owing a lot of his success to being a pupil of Crates. That's a whole thing though. I just... I get into a lot of philosophy, a lot of people making sense of the world. It feels more productive than anything else sometimes. Maybe that makes me an autodidact but that word is useless to me unless it gets me a community that gives me security and purpose within my lifetime.
By this point all of this unedited, difficult to digest gobbeldygook serves a bunch of functions. 1: The only people left are people that care about me enough that they're still here, for good or bad reasons. 2: I don't make sense to me so if you're going to understand me you're going to have to be as confused as I am.
I mean, hey, I've written some neat sentences here and there. I think a lot of them would make some neat found poetry, but I'm not going to make that in any way that isn't vicariously through someone else. Or I might, who knows... I can't make that and make this at the same time, so there's that I guess. Wait... What if I did?
If they say hold rock make man stupid if hit it on head,
Rock hold man smarts inside it after hitting head...
I should be able eat rock make my head smarter -
after hit it on other man head.
Ahh... The work of our generation. The best thing I've ever - hey, have you guys ever heard of Poe's Law? Wait, can I even call all of this a joke when the first part started as some rant about objectivity and then it just devolved into unplanned coping? Maybe if I wrap this whole thing around with, uh, confusion this'll all make sense... I'm confused a lot. I don't like it when people ask me what my pronouns are. I just kinda tell them to go "Yes, and..." like it's some improv comedy sketch. Just, ahh... guess? I guess? I like seeing you guess more than seeing myself fumble to give you an answer. I can see your embarrassing show and not my own this way.
Maybe I'll figure out what my deal is by watching you look stupid? Which kind of looking stupid do I like better?