Fuck Money, Learn to Live
I'm sick of posting stories. here's a good old fashioned rant. angry incoherant nonsense. I invite you to challange me, tell me what a dumass I am. Let the bloodbath begin!!
I realized something about these elitist types and these blue collar workers who look down on me for my meager hours I work and my one bedroom apartment. they see weakness in my strength. They see in me an unwillingness to be mature and committ to hard work for a better life. the thing is that I know jolly well how to work hard, and if I wanted alot more money and a better shelter and nice things, I could get them. I don't because I resent what I have to do already, and I try to minimize my weakness. When I was younger it used to aggervate me every moment that someone actually owns the food. that somewhere out there, someone produces the food and keeps it from everyone else, humand and non human, and hands it off to another group to who I must bring colorful pieces of paper, obtained through selling off my soul and aquiescing to a soul dead drone system, so that I may take the food I need to survive. How could that be? Survival is my right. Food is my right. No one deserves to own it. of course I was young, I didn't understand the size of this mess. I didn't realize how much everyone depended on it's functionality. If someone didn't hold the food, why would anyone show up to thier jobs? Why woud anyone bother? But somewhere out there, someone doesn't hold the food. there is food all around us, and no one can hide it all. only a child should depend on anyone to hand them thier food. any mature adult should hunt thier own food, gather thier own food, be responsible for thier own survival. It still infuriates me that people accept this nonsense. Not all people of course. there are nomadic tribes in the world that learned how to grow up and handle thier own shit, but for the most part people are a bunch of fucking children. I guess I am too, because I work for colorful paper like everyone else. I hadn't planned on it, but that's how marriage goes.