Date: Sat, 7th March 2015 01:10:35 +0200
From: oz
Subject: shit


I am a sociopath, with slight psychopath tendencies. Or it's the other way around, i'm not sure. However i will never make headlines, i will never get any media attention, i won't be remembered in any shape or form, not that i want to, but i won't. Talk about the average Joe; strip any character from that and you have me. What is worse than being the average Joe? Not being even that. Damn, there's something to keep you up at night.

A philosopher once said, when attacked for being a communist: "If somebody till the age of thirty is not a communist, then he's a fool. If somebody after the age of thirty is still a communist, then he's a fool". Replace "communism" with any life philosophy and you get one hell of a truth. For me it used to be religion. Then, as Carlin would say, i reached the age of reason, although i am not convinced that i am entitled to consider myself having reached such noble status. But once you reached an end, and you are still alive, what do you replace it with? Of course, you could leave that space empty, but then all you do is lose control of what that emptiness gets filled with. And even if you think you put something there, it might just be a big, fat, lie, and aren't we humans the best amongst all creatures in the universe in lying to ourselves? Isn't that what we constantly do, with every breath we take, with every step we make, with every action we take, patting ourselves on our shoulders constantly, reassuring ourselves, finding reason where there is not, seeing sings where there aren't any, looking for some meaningful purpose in every little shitty nonsense, trying everything just that so on every occasion when we look in the mirror we could say "Hey, Joe, you good looking hunk, aren't you something?!". Something. That is all we ask. And then we constantly give shape and form to this "something", constantly craving in petty little daily routines to find the definition of the one thing that needs no explanation, because it's all shit anyways.

We just can't take shit. Can't deal with it. Although it's a perfectly natural phenomenon, something that evolved in billions of years, something indispensable to life. Shit even has a purpose. Which makes humans inferior to shit, because humans don't have a purpose. Staying alive is not a purpose, it's instinct; being rich, famous, living in comfort is not a purpose, it's constraint. I remember once being in a group and some wise guy, trying to look intelligent, asked people what their greatest fear was. You should've seen the avalanche of pathetic cliches: of dying, of loosing the family, of getting to hell, bla bla. Unfortunately i had to answer that question too. I said: "well, from my part, my biggest fear is to have a heart attack while jerking off and being found like that, the porn still running on the computer, me with my dick in my hand". I dare say it was the only sincere answer, albeit not the most popular. Somebody told me then - damn, another cliche - "you know, there is a special place in hell for people like you". Oh, what music to my ears. There is a place for me, after all, and it's special, it's just mine, a reservation with my name on it, my name, for all eternity, waiting patiently since the beginning of time that i get there, me, little old me, not anybody else, just me.

But until that glorious moment i remain a fake. Because i like looking in the mirror, putting up a big grin and saying: "no, zoli, you are not average. Your IQ is higher, your car is nicer, your kids are better than average. Your shit smells nicer than average. Look, look in the toilet. Take a big sip, admire the shape, put away a sample, brag about it, write about it on the internet, put it in your pocket as a good luck charm, take it out in your hand every now and then and caress it, give it a name, protect it, kill for it, worship it if you must, for it is YOUR shit, and it's special, it's unique, it's irreplaceable, it's meaningful, it's adorable, it's what makes you above average, put it in your will and have it put in your coffin, so that it can be always with you, and when you start decomposing you can again be one with your shit, and then even your corpse will have meaning and will be above average."

Yes, MY shit. Less than average now. But one day... Oh, boy, one day...