Little baby bunnies and Nihilism, a perfect Sunday morning.
My little cat Lucilla will not stop sucking on my face, sigh, it's so sweet, but when you're trying to type it gets annoying. I love her so much though.
Oh, great, a nihilism community. How is that possible? Nihilism. Community. Huh, something's not quite right there.
(German Nihilismus, from Latin nihil nothing)
First appeared circa 1817
1 a : a viewpoint that traditional values and beliefs are
unfounded and that existence is senseless and useless
b: a doctrine that denies any objective ground of truth and esp. of moral truths
2 a :
(1) : a doctrine or belief that conditions in the social organization are so bad as to make destruciton
desirable for its own sake independant of any constructive program or possibility
(2) : capitalized : the program of a 19th century Russian party advocation revolutionary reform and using terrorism and assasination
b : TERRORISM
ni*hil*ist (noun or adjective)
And will you look at this bullshit;
True Nihilist wrote
"Last week I was with a friend and he shot a bird in the face with a pellet gun. I was a little pissed over this and said "why the fuck did you do that? he said "what it the point in not doing it!"
Is this Stupidity Or Nihilism?"
...and this guy got fifty-four replies about this?
Of course my reply was elegant, pithy, cogent, simple, and constructive...yeah right. I just got mad and swore at him. I hate Nihilists. I think they look cool and I kind of like their broody dark natures but Nihilism has got to be my least favorite philosophy on the planet! I think anyone who belongs to this community should be taken out and medicated, pronto. I don't care if it seems like I'm advocating some happy pill for the masses, a la let's all look alike like on the Twilight Zone. If it means we get less Hieronymous Bosch's and Salvidor Dali's then fine by me. At least the world will still be here for a little while, filled with streams and moss and forests and butterflies and motes of sunlight streaming down. I mean look at this stupid post. This kind of thing just brings out the basest of behavior in me, and I turn into a kind of angry instinct monkey with a club. Ugh, ugh, me hate you, thwack, thwack, kerthunk. You bad, me good.
I just can't stand debates like this. Who cares what the philosophy or non-point of the action is, when the action taken is cruel? People actually took this seriously, took the time to debate this question. Let's see, umm nihilism or stupidity, hmmm, I'm not sure. It just makes me simmer with rage. I think people need to grow up and get lives, learn to love someone, something, anything, and then look back and see how stupid they once were. Yeah let's see, I'll just dress like a nazi punk, shave my hair and dress like some eighties punk rock throw back, then walk around complaining about how fuct life is, and kill people at my school. Why not? Life doesn't hold any meaning for me, people are mean to me, I'm not popular, my parents are wrapped up in work, social status, and material acquisition, I'm too lazy and cool to hold down a normal job, no one will just hand me all of the expensive shit that I want, no one wants to fuck me, and I don't love anyone or anything, I might as well get that shotgun and kill everyone. Or I could go to a concert in Ventura and kick someone to death with my steel toed boots. Hmm which is it stupidity or nihilism? I think the answer is pretty obvious.
I understand how hard it is, how much it hurts, how senseless, random, unfair and cruel it all seems sometimes. I understand being angry and feeling screwed over by fairy tales and false promises. I understand what it feels like to be different from everyone else around you, to learn to depend on that difference, and to thrive on it in a way, to want to shove that in people's faces. I just don't understand that anger turned outwards, or that anger blinding people to the real beauty that exists here, along with all of the pain and the misery. I was there in the eighties when punk was new, I dyed my hair wild flamey red, and wore ripped up tee-shirts and stuck safety pins in my ears. I flashed my tits at passing cars. I flipped everyone off, stole things, broke things, hurt people. I did this while I was in Catholic School, people were judging me for this shit, while most of these kids were in diapers. I was dark before they were light. I saw the Clash in London and worshipped Sid Vicious, I slam danced, and fucked people who were bad for me, I thought about suicide all the time, and got spat on and crushed up against stages, and watched Iggy Pop pull out his cock onstage and piss on people. I hated adults. I thought life was so fuct! I was stoned or drunk a lot of the time. I took huge stupid risks. I was reckless and selfish and thought it meant that I was cool and free. I thought I was better than other people when what I really wanted was to be loved and accepted. I did all of this rebellious stupid typical teenage crap that every generation before me had done, and now I'm sitting here watching the generations that have grown up after me doing the same thing. Just like everyone else, I thought I was better than everyone else, thought I was smarter than my parents, smarter than my teachers, and every other mundane person I saw around me, but I never wanted to shoot a helpless little bird in the face, or debate the philosophy of a deliberately vicious action. I may go to Burning Man and delight in pranks, acting out a bit, and being naked in public, I may get off on voyeurism and alternative sexuality and relationships, I may be suspicious, very suspicious, of any organized religion, and government, and big business, and anyone with more than thirty million dollars in the bank, (there's a reason for this figure) but I still have a profound love and respect for life. I don't feel the need to get off on death and hate. I don't think it's cool anymore, I think it's unbelievably stupid, and a huge waste of the gift of being. I don't know how much time these people think they have left here on this plane of existence, but I feel the clock ticking, and I choose to celebrate life in the face of one hot motherfucker of a cold nuclear winter. On the one hand we have death and impending doom, on the other hand we have baby bunnies. I choose the bunnies.
Oh well, I have to go shoot my baby bunnies in the face, but first I have to change their bedding and see what Mom is up to. She keeps dumping her food bowl over and I think she's rejecting the teeniest one. I'll clean off some space on my cybershot card so I can take some pictures for you. Did you know that baby bunnies, (BTW what do you call baby bunnies?) have big buck teeth? It's startlingly cute.
Oh and my assistant/pal Esther finally moved out on her drunk abusive partner. Of course he got down on his knees and begged her to forgive him. This after he tells her she's an ugly fat pig of a whore and who bores him, follow that up with getting pissed on at night, giving your daughter, with a super sensitive colon, popcorn, and lying about it, jacking off in front of your eighty year old Mother, wandering into neighbors houses and passing out, picking fights with all of your relatives, losing every job you get when you're too hung over to go to work, never paying your way, being mean to and jealous of your stepson, never getting anyone presents, and just generally being an immature, selfish, abusive bastard and after seven years of this, well, you're liable to get left. God it's taken Esther a long time to leave him. I just pray she doesn't hook up with another jerk like him. We all knew he was horrible right from the beginning. You guys remember Hugo right? The guy who drove backwards at 55mph through my child filled neighborhood and crashed his truck in my front yard, the guy who thinks he hears demons knocking at his door? Yeah, he's the one. I'm so happy for Esther I could scream, but don't tell anyone I said this, typical Alanoner that I am, I feel sorry for Hugo, pathetic isn't it. Hey, there's a nihilist for the community for you. Me, me, me, and no one else matters, life sucks, let's get drunk, be irresponsible and abusive and harm people. I'm not happy, why should you be. I think I'll get in my car and go for a ride.
Oh and remember Hector, his brother who worked for me and stole things? The one who ended up in jail for getting caught driving drunk three times? I was happy for him because I thought he was going to have to straighten his life out by going to AA meetings and checking in with parole officers. Turns out you can bribe so-called sponsors to verify your meeting attendance for cash. Pretty pathetic isn't it?
art at the end of the twentieth century