I have an old friend from high school who is a voting member of the Recording Academy. You sound fun, you mention wife is it true if not wanna meet?
LOL Med. Thirsty as fuck
Then who are you?
Haven't decided yet if I wanna rehash all that haha, until then please accept this response.
You must be an old fogey to reference this.
Ę̵̚x̸͎̾i̴͚̽s̵̻͐t̷͐ͅe̷̯͠n̴̤̚t̵̻̅i̵͉̿a̴̮͊l̵͍̂ ̴̹̕D̵̤̀e̸͓͂t̵̢͂e̴͕̓c̸̗̄t̴̗̿ï̶̪v̷̲̍é̵͔
Then who are you?
Haven't decided yet if I wanna rehash all that haha, until then please accept this response.
You must be an old fogey to reference this.
I prefer the term "bewildered geriatric".
@Med, I appreciate the offer and I'm sure you're a nice lady, but I'm gonna hold out for my approved hall pass (Sarah Palin... or possibly Mitch McConnell if he gets me drunk).
I'm not actually intending for anyone to read this, and I was gonna apologize for using this place as my personal blog/echo chamber/strait jacket until I realized that literally all y'all have done/are doing the same thing. So I'm not sorry lol, but I will try to contain this (hopefully final) rant to this thread.
So essentially my court-ordered psychiatrist told me that I’m having an existential crisis, which is an annoying concept because I’ve had all the other crises (hypertensive, midlife, wardrobe, religious etc etc) but figured I’d somehow managed to dodge existential. In part because I can’t spell it, but mostly because I don’t really know what the fuck it means. I’ve always kinda subscribed to the idea that regardless of whether you cure cancer, go to prison, terraform Mars, repossess jet skis, win an Academy Award, or smoke PCP in Appalachian public bathrooms… the net outcome is the same. It doesn’t matter. One day, the sun’s gonna implode. Everything you’ve accumulated over the course of a life - accoutrements, tchotchkes, achievements, money, debt, fistbumps, neural pathways, legacies - will get spaghettified in a cold, dense singularity. Not only will no one give a shit, there’ll be literally no witnesses to the entire human comedy.
I told her [psychiatrist] this, and got a predictably unimpressed reaction. It’s an invertebrate, self-indulgent and derivative philosophy, obviously, because it completely acquits me of any guilt about achieving nothing. She rightly pointed out that using the eventual implosion of the sun as an excuse to fuck up my life neglects the several billion years separating those two events. She also noted that my theory is factually incorrect, and I should read more about the sun if its going to underpin my entire existential philosophy.
I only know one person who seems to have resolved this question in their own mind. One of my best friends once flew 10,000 miles to live with a swami master of Vedic wisdom at an ashram in New Delhi. I didn’t fully understand why. He seemed happy. He was into all sorts of weird wholesome shit like brewing kombucha, reiki, and goat yoga (“the goats are hypoallergenic”, he said when attempting to recruit me, as though haggard drunks with hay fever are their target demographic).
I’ve known a lot of strange, New Agey folks over the years. Lots of people in our circle of friends have done interesting shit like get their labradoodle’s baptized, get Body Thetan readings, and charge gemstones in the moonlight. They’re usually pretty normal outside the occasional bizarre quest for meaning, carefully timetabled alongside appointments with doctors, osteopaths, naturopaths, nutritionists, psychics, shamans, cryogenic and frequency healers. The breadth of options available to existentially anxious rich people is genuinely staggering. Some of them even see psychiatrists without being legally required to.
So when my friend first told me he was going to an ashram in India, I told him it was a weird coincidence, because I was going to an al-Qaeda training camp in Kandahar. He didn’t appreciate the facetiousness, and asked me how long I reckoned I’d last in a country that literally whips you for public intoxication.
Naturally, I was pissed when he came back looking zen and healthy. I remember standing next to him at a party, thinking that he looks like he’s just gotten a hi-five from God, while I look like I’ve been exhumed from a fucking swamp. It was a petty thing to get jealous about, given I’ve made exactly zero steps towards self improvement. But that’s my problem. I’m a lazy underachiever with a trust fund. I’ve half-assed my entire life and I still feel like I’m entitled to nirvana. It’s such an unsympathetic problem that I wonder how my psychiatrist hasn’t told me to just shut the fuck up. Maybe that's why I'm writing this on an esoteric forum at 4am rather than talking to anyone in my real life.
Anyway, massive TLDR. Hopefully I’ve gotten all this shit out of my system and I can leave y'all to it lol
I have an old friend from high school who is a voting member of the Recording Academy. You sound fun, you mention wife is it true if not wanna meet?
Lmao some dude writes getting beat up by a homeless guy and you're interested? You've got a type
Edit: I do actually like the above rant, right up until you talk about how having a trust fund is the reason you're depressed. Unsympathetic isn't wrong lol
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4/12/2022 11:36:52 AM
So many people on this site writing things ... This one almost sounds like Pachuco? Ah
Wow yeah you got me haha, turns out I haven't fully grown out of writing dumb shit on the internet
How are you anyway, Lena?
So many people on this site writing things ... This one almost sounds like Pachuco? Ah
Wow yeah you got me haha, turns out I haven't fully grown out of writing dumb shit on the internet
How are you anyway, Lena?
I'm pretty good, glad to see you found your way back (if this is indeed pach), for some reason i thought we had lost you indefinitely. Forgive i can't remember what chapter you left on but this certainly has your flavor.