What is this sludge that fills us, we Americans? Make no mistake, it’s sludge, degraded dirty crude never refined in the first place, then run through the machine 40, 100, ten thousand times.
I was saying tonight that my blog was honest. A total lie, of course. There is not an ounce of honesty here. On the other hand, there are absolutely no lies. They’re the same thing anyway, these “truth” and “lies.” How do I know? I’ve never heard any truth and I’ve never told any lies. And everyone else can say the same.
I’m so old now. How old is too old?
“To old for what?” is the question, but of course it’s a stupid question.
I remember those early mornings as a teenager, 1:00 or 2:00 am, in the freezing cold and snow, shivering and fighting and sleeping on concrete. For no reason. That’s how petty we Americans are. We make ourselves suffer for no reason, butcher and rob each other for no reason, just to have the privelege of complaining about it later.
I have to re-read Dostoevsky. And Nietzsche.
The thing about non-Americans is, they always make we Americans (those of us with any fscking brains) feel like total frauds, largely because we are. That is, after all, the core value of the nation. Advertising, PR, salesmanship, the turning of tragic loss into serendipitous victory. Hurrah!
Still feel guilty.