Myriad

What you have, and what you do has nothing to do with the person that you are.

Let me repeat that.

What you have, and what you do has NOTHING to do with the person that you are.

It make sense right? Your job, your possessions. Ultimately they mean very little and have little bearing on the person you have grown to be. Right?

If this then is the case, why the fuck does everycunt around me (myself included) keep feeding the beast?

T.V., PS2, iPod, PC, NIKE's, Nokia, etc, etc, etc.

Toys, toys, toys. Useless, timewasting, empty garbage. I know it and whether you admit it or not, you know it too. So what in the name of the alleged jesus keeps us stoking the fire?

Are we bored? Lazy? Brainwashed? Or just plain empty inside? I really don't know.

T.V. shits me, but I still watch. The internet is boring more than half the time but I'm still online. I pay good money for shoes and clothing that I know are ridiculously priced. I know it's a cliche but I feel like a battered wife going back to her man.

Solutions? I don't know if I have any answers. I guess T.V. is easily abandoned (for me anyway). The clothes and shoes I can do without. I don't have the PS2 or the iPod anyway, and my phone I could easily throw against a wall.

That leaves the PC. The bane of my existence. I use it to write this stuff, which I love and refuse to abandon. I also use it to keep in contact with interesting people from around the globe. But honestly I mostly use it to waste time. Time I could use to do something more productive like read, or play music (or write).

So am I lazy? Am I a whiny little bitch? Probably. I know what I want to do. All I want to do is play music, listen to music, write music, read, write, grow and learn; and engage in stimulating conversation with intelligent people. And get laid. A lot.

Simple right? It fucking well should be, shouldn't it? Then why do I go through all this bullshit? Why does anyone really?

All I really want is to find a job where I can earn enough to live on (which these days is getting harder and harder). When not at work all I need is the stuff I've outlined above. Simple. But I still want, want, want. More toys, more toys. Gimme, gimme, gimme.

It's vanity, it's greed, it's lust, it's western marketing propaganda brainwashing. I want it so I can look cool and get laid. Because women seem to go with men who still enjoy playing with their toys. And muscles. Apparently muscles are desirable.

But I'm an artist at heart. Really I am. I'm not a fighter, I don't have bulging biceps. I'm an intellectual, nerdy, artist (but not necessarily a smart or talented one).