“So What?”
Metaphysics of a Bouncer
Anxiety calling on me again. And it’s not about anything in particular, as is usually the case with anxiety right? Otherwise it would be fear. That’s what Freud said, that’s what Heidegger said. Hoorah! Hoorah! We’ve read the books no one else has, to compensate for our lack of class. But yes, it’s not about anything, not even about her anymore. Unless of course she suddenly decides to jump right back into our little world, which won’t be a problem at all. All I do is flip my world upside down from time to time, one thing I have grown accustomed to is disruptions. She can do whatever she wants, it always takes a toll on me, but never has a real effect. I guess that’s something I’m saving for someone else; perhaps someone even more dangerous?
Haven’t had much to say lately. Wouldn’t call it a writer’s block necessarily, I just don’t give a shit about recording my thoughts. What do all academics want in the end? We’re just con men who want to get paid for reading good literature and very rarely writing something down of our own. Honestly, I’d get rid of that “writing down” part altogether. Makes it harder to get to the good stuff you know? There’s always 400 shit books you have to toss aside before you find anything worth a read. And let’s face it, they only let us write that crazy shit down because we never act on it. That’s why philosophers are in limbo with Dante, we don’t do anything. So they let us hang around. Same with contemporary politics.
So yeah, the industry is a fuck, Academia is a fuck and there’s really nothing else left if you want either money or free time. And those are the only two things we need. I do need to fuck the system, but not at the expense of living a genuine life of love and caring. Why set myself impossible challenges? Because I enjoy the limits, I love being at the limit of what can be known, experienced — felt. What’s the point of being “in the world” if you can’t even approach its boundary? That’s been my addiction since I was a kid you know? To flip off God, bite the hand that feeds and take a dash for the stars. Does that make me evil?
Makes me fucking honest. That’s more important. My friends told me I took on 7 guys last night at the bar. I work as a bouncer you see? So I had a little too much to drink and apparently a fight broke out. I’m still trying to get the camera footage from my boss. I want to know if I look pretty in a fight. But apparently I wasn’t really hurting on anybody, just tossed them outside. Still, if I did kick 7 angry dudes out of a bar (depends of course, on their bodyweight) that must have looked at least a little impressive. But yeah, I don’t think I’ll be getting that footage. Why bring this up? Because that’s real, none of that limbo bullshit you know? I got shitfaced drunk, probably hit on a bunch of people and then jumped headfirst (so they tell me) into a brawl made up of 7 (let’s say) moderately sized gentlemen. I wish I could remember any of it.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — -*** — - — - — — — — — — — — — — — — -
Irony strikes again; the most profound encounters with the Real are tossed entirely outside of conscious apprehension. That’s why you can’t just be a philosopher, then you’re more like an elite bureaucrat. You need to experience the real thing, the content of what you’re trying to write about.
