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“…if art is anything, then it is, to me, that which is created in the attempted absence of illusions, that which doesn’t instruct because its creator while creating it doesn’t know what’s good or bad, only that he/she wants to convey something.”Tao Lin, “Does the Novel Have a Future? The Answer Is In This Essay!”
“Although each human’s world of noumenon is unique and private–direct access by others is impossible–the world of noumenon is theorized, or hoped, it seems, by most religions and philosophies, to be actually a oneness within which we become isolated when we take on physical form and enter concrete reality, which, like a virtual world, is a shared space in which we can communicate our worlds of noumenon with others, if we want to and at our leisure, until we return to the oneness upon death. It’s unknown why we don’t exist only in the world of noumenon but are forced to endure, or perhaps gifted–though vaguely, almost mischievously–an amount of time, between birth and death, in concrete reality.”
“‘Oversharing’ is a value-laden term, its message being that whatever’s termed as such has crossed some subjective line in the sand, one that denotes ‘appropriate sharing’ from ‘sharing too much.’ The word seems very Puritan and culturally-oppressive to me. And I think it’s becoming redundant at this point. The reality of the internet generation — the generation that will eventually control much of the cultural context — is simply that, as pretty much all previous modern generations, they want to draw their own boundaries. They want to create a world in which they’re OK, and will eventually do so by establishing new norms via continually exerting their influence. The group of people who have contentions with so-called oversharers only seem to want to censor them via shaming, ridicule, and tribal exclusionary behavior. The majority of the group is not positive, useful, or constructive at all.”Brandon Scott Gorrell via What Is Viralism? An Inquiry Into Culture’s Battle For Digital Space
“It just seems like the world is heavy. That it is like a big cement monster that is crushing me, that is pummeling me with scorpion claws, stinging me, biting me alive, throwing bricks at my head, slamming cinder blocks on my nuts, eating me, showing me that I am worthless, that my life on this planet is a futile little pile of meat that ends in immobility, death, then sent underground with a shitty tombstone that doesn’t signify who I was, what I was about. It just states my name, year of birth and day of death. I don’t feel lucky at all to be alive.”The Insurgent by Noah Cicero
I should win an award for self-destruction, self-mutilation, and self-loathing.
The award will be presented by Tom Cruise. There will be an audience of several million. Tom Cruise will say, “And now the award for the most self-loathing human alive, goes to Vasily Krymov.”
I will walk up on the stage.
The crowd will roar with applause.
Tom Cruise will hand me the award.
I will give my thank you speech, “I would like to thank my father and mother for always showing me that they hated me since I was born. I would like to thank that Cossack for shooting me when I was six, and thank God for forsaking me.”
I don’t believe in God, but it is always important to thank God in those types of speeches.
Tom Cruise will stand behind me chuckling to himself and he will say under his breath, “Fucking loser.”
I will hear him say, “Fucking loser.” And think of it as positive reinforcement that I am fucking worthless and should be shot for crimes against those who have ambition and a desire for the Good Life.” The Insurgent by Noah Cicero