Adam Smith

So it's 4am and I'm awake and it sucks more than I can possibly explain. However! There is a silver lining -- PJ O'Rourke and the goods on Adam Smiths' "The Wealth Of Nations." It's a random read at 4AM.

Let me just say:
Consumption.
Self Interest.
Division of Labor.
Trade.

Done.

Back to Bertrand Russell for a bit. A shower/shave/drive to work looms menacingly. I hate you Adam Smith.

earth day reminded me of how much i hate this place

im watching family guy. I've decided I will create a 'random shit' drawer. It's coming along smashingly. I feel compelled to share an itemized list.

1. Phillips Screw Driver
2. Standard Screw Driver
3. Complete PC repair kit
4. 2 Access Point Antennas
5. Box cutter
6. USB -> Audio/Microphone adapter
7. NASA flashlight on a landyard
8. 16Gig USB Key

And I'm spent.

It turns out that each breath is a razor cutting my soul.

I don't even really believe in a soul.
I don't even believe in anything ethereal and new agey. Hecht says a i'm hardcore atheist of a particular type. I hate labels. Unless they're on cables, at this point I adore labels. They keep me from raging.
is it possible to have a mortally wounded part of you that is the essence of who you without it being spiritual? Can synaptic activity be wounded? More importantly how does the sporadic pattern of synaptic activity achieve non-volatility? How do we maintain our state? What is this life that keeps the running image of who we are stable? Why am I not more stable? I'm all questions and no answers. I am all lost and no maps.

I am only certain of the pain to come. I want to love myself. I want to love others. I want to understand that love is something that gives this life meaning. I want to truly believe it. I want to not be let down by people who are just trying to make something beautiful out of this whole living deal. I want to not sit in judgement of those who exist without reflection. Those who embrace beauty and create it. Those who are fundametnally made of a better cloth than I.

Why does everything hurt so fucking much?

I am the broken. I am the damaged -- and i've lost my fucking reciept.

I stand on the edge -- and I want to cry. This melo-drama is taxing.

I do not want this. I do not want this. I do not want this.

Also, i've developed a gay crush on jason mraz.

the work of dying is painstakingly slow.

so i go to the doctor.

he tells me he wants to cut on me. not only does he want to cut on me -- he wants me to know that i will hate his guts.

i'm a pain magnet -- its what i do.



forward.