The Transcendentalists and, by extension, Walt Whitman
Satan: I've noticed you have a penchant for being interviewed. Like you were someone famous.
Tom: I'm ready. Go.
Satan: You claim the Transcendentalists have played a part in your writing?
Tom: I was introduced to them in 1995. I was a junior at Poway High. We were required to take a semester of American literature. I've always been friendly with books, and I enjoyed the class.
Satan: Who was your favorite?
Tom: Emerson. I find it interesting that Thoreau seems to have firmly supplanted him in the public consciousness, and yet I was initially attracted to Emerson's writings more so than his. I do love Thoreau, however.
Satan: Since we're on the subject, can you tell me who is your favorite 19th-century American writer?
Tom: I'm sure it changes, but off the top of my head I'd have to say Walt Whitman.
Satan: Any reason in particular for that?
Tom: "On the Beach at Night Alone."
Satan: Why?
Tom: I think the timing had something to do with it. It was 2005 and with a collection of Whitmann's poetry and other writings, I chanced upon "On the Beach at Night Alone" as I was on the beach at night alone, saying goodbye to my hometown and everything I loved in it before I went off to live in France. Plus it's just a beautiful poem.
Satan: Shall we include it?
Tom: I can't think of a better way to end this post, but aren't there legal issues to worry about?
Satan: Ah, fuck it. It anybody says anything, just tell 'em I made you do it.
Tom: Sweet.
ON THE BEACH AT NIGHT ALONE
by: Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
On the beach at night alone,
As the old mother sways her to and fro singing her husky song,
As I watch the bright stars shining, I think a thought of the clef of the universes and of the future.
A vast similitude interlocks all,
All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets,
All distances of place however wide,
All distances of time, all inanimate forms,
All souls, all living bodies though they be ever so different, or in different worlds,
All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes, the fishes, the brutes,
All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages,
All identities that have existed or may exist on this globe, or any globe,
All lives and deaths, all of the past, present, future,
This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann'd,
And shall forever span them and compactly hold and enclose them.
20111005
The Worst Fear in My Life At the Moment
I unconsciously think and act like my individual existence is more important than any other. I've done nothing significant in my life (cured cancer, wrote the Great American Novel, etc.), nor have I ever had a thought that was original or at least helpful to someone. And yet, I live my life as if I were on the verge of some big break, as if I were on the threshold of fulfilling some great potential that will be both impressive to the layman and beneficial to the world for generations to come.
Beneficial is an entirely subjective term. Am I going to do something that benefits the world in its current manifestation (as my own finite mind understands it)? Or will I leave something that is more beneficial to future generations? Do great people think like this, or do they just get to work doing something they feel called to do, something they consider higher than themselves, and let the cards fall where they may?
Perhaps I've set my sights too high. No matter. I intend to die trying. Trying to do what? Apparently I'm not supposed to worry about it.
I unconsciously think and act like my individual existence is more important than any other. I've done nothing significant in my life (cured cancer, wrote the Great American Novel, etc.), nor have I ever had a thought that was original or at least helpful to someone. And yet, I live my life as if I were on the verge of some big break, as if I were on the threshold of fulfilling some great potential that will be both impressive to the layman and beneficial to the world for generations to come.
Beneficial is an entirely subjective term. Am I going to do something that benefits the world in its current manifestation (as my own finite mind understands it)? Or will I leave something that is more beneficial to future generations? Do great people think like this, or do they just get to work doing something they feel called to do, something they consider higher than themselves, and let the cards fall where they may?
Perhaps I've set my sights too high. No matter. I intend to die trying. Trying to do what? Apparently I'm not supposed to worry about it.
20110930
Remember who you wanted to be
Tom: So my plan was to write feverishly for the next two weeks. One week is already gone, and I feel I've done nothing.
Satan: Oh?
Tom: Yeah. It feels like I'm working on a thesis again, only this time it's worse because I don't have to finish anything: I don't have deadlines, I don't have to answer to a supervisor or a jury, etc.
Satan: Yeah but from another perspective, you absolutely must write. The stakes here are infinitely greater than for a mere master's thesis. Your self-worth is at stake. After all, what really differentiates you from the vast majority of people you encounter, individuals who seem to be leading lives of quiet desperation? Isn't failure a far better option than passivity? Don't you remember what Bukowski said about his father? That his father had told him that a man buys a house, then passes it on to his son, and then the son does the same, then his son does the same and so on, and that is how wealth (and prestige, self-worth, etc.) is eventually acquired.
Tom: Bukowski said something to the effect of, "Fuck that, I want a hundred houses RIGHT NOW."
Satan: Yes, something like that. You're not writing for riches or literary glory, not primarily at least. You're writing so you can live with yourself. Eating, shitting, sleeping, fucking, etc. are, unfortunately, not enough for you.
(Pause)
Tom: Yesterday I saw a bumper sticker that read, "Remember who you wanted to be."
Satan: Hmm, that must have brought it home a bit.
Tom: It did. I feel that one of the great themes of my life (it sounds so epic when I put it like that) has been to become a man of which my childhood self would have been proud.
Satan: And how's that workin' out for ya, champ?
Tom: Well, I'm writing now, aren't I?
Tom: So my plan was to write feverishly for the next two weeks. One week is already gone, and I feel I've done nothing.
Satan: Oh?
Tom: Yeah. It feels like I'm working on a thesis again, only this time it's worse because I don't have to finish anything: I don't have deadlines, I don't have to answer to a supervisor or a jury, etc.
Satan: Yeah but from another perspective, you absolutely must write. The stakes here are infinitely greater than for a mere master's thesis. Your self-worth is at stake. After all, what really differentiates you from the vast majority of people you encounter, individuals who seem to be leading lives of quiet desperation? Isn't failure a far better option than passivity? Don't you remember what Bukowski said about his father? That his father had told him that a man buys a house, then passes it on to his son, and then the son does the same, then his son does the same and so on, and that is how wealth (and prestige, self-worth, etc.) is eventually acquired.
Tom: Bukowski said something to the effect of, "Fuck that, I want a hundred houses RIGHT NOW."
Satan: Yes, something like that. You're not writing for riches or literary glory, not primarily at least. You're writing so you can live with yourself. Eating, shitting, sleeping, fucking, etc. are, unfortunately, not enough for you.
(Pause)
Tom: Yesterday I saw a bumper sticker that read, "Remember who you wanted to be."
Satan: Hmm, that must have brought it home a bit.
Tom: It did. I feel that one of the great themes of my life (it sounds so epic when I put it like that) has been to become a man of which my childhood self would have been proud.
Satan: And how's that workin' out for ya, champ?
Tom: Well, I'm writing now, aren't I?
20110927
Satan: An SOS file? Whats that?
Tom: Ah. Been sleazing around my yahoo mail again lately, have we?
Satan: Ahem.
Tom: Oh, sorry. I'm supposed to be flattered that you've been skulking about one of my inboxes. How vaginal.
Satan: (Silence)
Tom: Okay. The SOS file is a folder I made into which I plan to place video clips, bits of literature, inspiring JPEGs, etc. I think that might make me happy when I'm feeling particularly depressed.
Satan: Hahahahahaha! And you really think that's going to work! Ahahahahahaha!!!
Tom: Hey fool. I didn't choose this.
Satan: Ooooh, how profound.
Tom: Wow. You are a nasty one.
Satan: Thank you.
Tom: You're welcome. Dick.
Satan: Ass.
Tom: Ah. Been sleazing around my yahoo mail again lately, have we?
Satan: Ahem.
Tom: Oh, sorry. I'm supposed to be flattered that you've been skulking about one of my inboxes. How vaginal.
Satan: (Silence)
Tom: Okay. The SOS file is a folder I made into which I plan to place video clips, bits of literature, inspiring JPEGs, etc. I think that might make me happy when I'm feeling particularly depressed.
Satan: Hahahahahaha! And you really think that's going to work! Ahahahahahaha!!!
Tom: Hey fool. I didn't choose this.
Satan: Ooooh, how profound.
Tom: Wow. You are a nasty one.
Satan: Thank you.
Tom: You're welcome. Dick.
Satan: Ass.
20110920
Satan: So you were out on a walk, which you undertook in an effort to stave off weight gain, and instead of walking to 30th as you'd intended, which in itself was less than you'd originally planned to do, you stopped short because your boxer shorts were in a twitch, one ear bud didn't work, you had a Katy Perry song stuck in your head, and you suddenly found that you were so hungry you were jittery.
Tom: Yeah, so?
Satan: Then you went to the liquor store and bought beer and booze. Instead of getting food. Or at the very least food and a bit of drink.
Tom: Well? I did what I did. And I tell you this, you horned fuck: After drinking two 7% beers on an empty stomach, I feel... better.
Satan: Yeah but is this how you really planned to start this blog up again? After such a hiatus?
Tom: Dude.
Satan: What?
Tom: You like, missed me, didn't you?
Satan: Shut the fuck up.
Tom: Ha-ha, you little bitch.
Satan: I'm going to align dark forces tomorrow such that you suffer an excruciating paper cut. To the balls.
Tom: God I'm almost interested to see how it happens.
Satan: Keep giggling, assface.
Tom: Yeah, so?
Satan: Then you went to the liquor store and bought beer and booze. Instead of getting food. Or at the very least food and a bit of drink.
Tom: Well? I did what I did. And I tell you this, you horned fuck: After drinking two 7% beers on an empty stomach, I feel... better.
Satan: Yeah but is this how you really planned to start this blog up again? After such a hiatus?
Tom: Dude.
Satan: What?
Tom: You like, missed me, didn't you?
Satan: Shut the fuck up.
Tom: Ha-ha, you little bitch.
Satan: I'm going to align dark forces tomorrow such that you suffer an excruciating paper cut. To the balls.
Tom: God I'm almost interested to see how it happens.
Satan: Keep giggling, assface.
20090627
Tom: I was thinking, they should make a GTA-style game for PS2 where instead of taking over rival gangs you destroy credit card companies.
Satan: Whoa, whoa there Poindexter, too many acronyms.
Tom: GTA stands for Grand Theft Auto. PS2 is a Sony Playstation 2.
Satan: ?
Tom: Grand Theft Auto (GTA) is an award-winning video game series published by Rockstar Games. The gameplay consists of a mixture of action, adventure, and driving, as well as occasional role-playing, stealth, and racing elements. The games have been the subject of controversy due to their adult nature and violent themes. The games' stories focus on various protagonists who attempt to rise through the ranks of the criminal underworld.
Satan: Yeah yeah, I already knew that. What's your point?
Tom: The game basically boils down to a Super Mario Bros.-like series of obstacles the main character must overcome. Big whoop. The novelty of the series is that you get to rampage. Not only can you interact with the ambient elements of the game, but most of them can be destroyed or murdered in a variety of amusing ways.
Satan: And?
Tom: I want to rampage on credit card companies. I want a video game were I have limitless firepower and machinery at my disposal in my quest to wipe every physical trace of Visa off the fucking map.
Satan: Did you miss a payment again?
Tom: Yeah. And I got to find out what a Universal Default Rate is.
Satan: Ouch.
Satan: Whoa, whoa there Poindexter, too many acronyms.
Tom: GTA stands for Grand Theft Auto. PS2 is a Sony Playstation 2.
Satan: ?
Tom: Grand Theft Auto (GTA) is an award-winning video game series published by Rockstar Games. The gameplay consists of a mixture of action, adventure, and driving, as well as occasional role-playing, stealth, and racing elements. The games have been the subject of controversy due to their adult nature and violent themes. The games' stories focus on various protagonists who attempt to rise through the ranks of the criminal underworld.
Satan: Yeah yeah, I already knew that. What's your point?
Tom: The game basically boils down to a Super Mario Bros.-like series of obstacles the main character must overcome. Big whoop. The novelty of the series is that you get to rampage. Not only can you interact with the ambient elements of the game, but most of them can be destroyed or murdered in a variety of amusing ways.
Satan: And?
Tom: I want to rampage on credit card companies. I want a video game were I have limitless firepower and machinery at my disposal in my quest to wipe every physical trace of Visa off the fucking map.
Satan: Did you miss a payment again?
Tom: Yeah. And I got to find out what a Universal Default Rate is.
Satan: Ouch.
20080328
Tom: I wanna smoke and drink and not do work. But I don't think I should do any of those things.
Satan: Well, what do you think I'm gonna say?
Tom: Fuck.
Satan: Alright, let's take 'em one at a time. You shouldn't smoke because it hurts your lungs. You shouldn't drink because then you'll start having fun and won't work. Plus you're going to have drinks tonight too. Too much drinking is rough on your body. And not doing work will fuck you later on.
Tom: Well, don't I get to have ANY fun at all? Every time I look at the stuff I have to do I want to vomit. I feel like a kid throwing a hissy fit.
Satan: Sure. And it's understandable. You've had your nose to the grindstone for 6 months now. But once you finish this session you're done with classes. Just keep plodding forward.
Tom: I feel fat. I hate this lifestyle.
Satan: It's only temporary.
Tom: So should I just pig it up?
Satan: No. You already feel bloated. Just pick and choose your vices.
Tom: But that's extra thinking I don't really want to do.
Satan: Yeah.
Tom: This sucks, doesn't it?
Satan: Not more than most things.
Tom: Is there a failproof system of rewards I can bribe myself with?
Satan: Fuck, just do your work.
Tom: This is the first time you've failed me.
(Pause)
Satan: (Belch)
Tom: Wait, is that SCOTCH I smell?
Satan: YEP! (cough)
Tom: Don't blow cigarette smoke in my face!
Satan: FAK YOU!
Tom: You hypocritical ASSHOLE!
Satan: Haha! Now crack open them books and STUDY, bitch!
Satan: Well, what do you think I'm gonna say?
Tom: Fuck.
Satan: Alright, let's take 'em one at a time. You shouldn't smoke because it hurts your lungs. You shouldn't drink because then you'll start having fun and won't work. Plus you're going to have drinks tonight too. Too much drinking is rough on your body. And not doing work will fuck you later on.
Tom: Well, don't I get to have ANY fun at all? Every time I look at the stuff I have to do I want to vomit. I feel like a kid throwing a hissy fit.
Satan: Sure. And it's understandable. You've had your nose to the grindstone for 6 months now. But once you finish this session you're done with classes. Just keep plodding forward.
Tom: I feel fat. I hate this lifestyle.
Satan: It's only temporary.
Tom: So should I just pig it up?
Satan: No. You already feel bloated. Just pick and choose your vices.
Tom: But that's extra thinking I don't really want to do.
Satan: Yeah.
Tom: This sucks, doesn't it?
Satan: Not more than most things.
Tom: Is there a failproof system of rewards I can bribe myself with?
Satan: Fuck, just do your work.
Tom: This is the first time you've failed me.
(Pause)
Satan: (Belch)
Tom: Wait, is that SCOTCH I smell?
Satan: YEP! (cough)
Tom: Don't blow cigarette smoke in my face!
Satan: FAK YOU!
Tom: You hypocritical ASSHOLE!
Satan: Haha! Now crack open them books and STUDY, bitch!
20071103
Tom: So if Bill Hicks says life is a ride, then all I have to do is enjoy it, right?
Satan: Sure, why not.
Tom: Hahahahahahahahahaha! I got it all figured out fucker! Hahahahaha! People will look back on this little blog-o retrospective and think, "Damn, that motherfucker was ON!"
Satan: What do you mean by that? Do you mean you think that other people will think that you were just writing for the fuck of it, that it didn't really make sense to do it but you said fuck it and did it anyways? Wow. You're a real hero.
Tom: Oh fuck you bitch. That's why you've always envied me. Because I can just lay back and roll.
Satan: The nex time you get high I'm going to make you think something is squeezing your heart like that scene in Exorcist II.
Tom: Awwwwwww sheeeit!
Satan: Sure, why not.
Tom: Hahahahahahahahahaha! I got it all figured out fucker! Hahahahaha! People will look back on this little blog-o retrospective and think, "Damn, that motherfucker was ON!"
Satan: What do you mean by that? Do you mean you think that other people will think that you were just writing for the fuck of it, that it didn't really make sense to do it but you said fuck it and did it anyways? Wow. You're a real hero.
Tom: Oh fuck you bitch. That's why you've always envied me. Because I can just lay back and roll.
Satan: The nex time you get high I'm going to make you think something is squeezing your heart like that scene in Exorcist II.
Tom: Awwwwwww sheeeit!
20071028
I get it. I understand why sports are so interesting to some people. Like guys who work together in an office. It's the ultimate neutral ground. The only time mostpeople can express a subjective opinion in the workplace is when discussing sports. As such, they filter a large portion of their personalities through "sports". Sports talk is passionate. Irrational. Witty and bitchy.
Fuck that. I see right through it. I don't "get" sports. Grown men swatting little balls does not constitute drama for me. I like playing sports. But they're just games.
Fuck that. I see right through it. I don't "get" sports. Grown men swatting little balls does not constitute drama for me. I like playing sports. But they're just games.
20070919
Tom: I would rather have to write papers in French on the recent evolutionary developments of sexual morality as they're reflected in literature and have them graded at the mastter's level than work at West Coast Life Insurance. But it's not easy. Despite what my girlfriend thinks. And fuck you, Ray. It's not easy for anyone to put on a goddamn happy face and speak a foreign language to total strangers, just hoping that none of them see fit to rob you of your self-esteem as well as your wallet.
Satan: Good lord. Why don't you lighten up a bit? Puff a blunt, smoke a J... I know they have that shit in Montreal.
Tom: I'm starting to feel like I've been shut up inside a terrified litttle bubble for the last three weeks. Everything is so different. I mean shit, I speak French bu there's a totally different accent here! It's like fucking Amercian English vs. British English and I can hardly even understand what THOSE fucks are saying! I can see people notice notice my temporary social retardation, but they don't really seem to care for the most part.
Satan: So why should you?
Tom: I'm FINE motherfucker!
Satan: Not as fine as a lot of the chicks here. Hoo boy. They speak French too you know.
Tom: Oh fuck off.
Satan: Do you think you've been in school for too long? Have you been fully indoctrinated now?
Tom: Whatever, man. Like I said, it beats the life insurance industry.
Satan: But you're still a company man to the bitter end.
Tom: Why don't you go suck your own dick or something? I'll bet you can do that.
Satan: Good lord. Why don't you lighten up a bit? Puff a blunt, smoke a J... I know they have that shit in Montreal.
Tom: I'm starting to feel like I've been shut up inside a terrified litttle bubble for the last three weeks. Everything is so different. I mean shit, I speak French bu there's a totally different accent here! It's like fucking Amercian English vs. British English and I can hardly even understand what THOSE fucks are saying! I can see people notice notice my temporary social retardation, but they don't really seem to care for the most part.
Satan: So why should you?
Tom: I'm FINE motherfucker!
Satan: Not as fine as a lot of the chicks here. Hoo boy. They speak French too you know.
Tom: Oh fuck off.
Satan: Do you think you've been in school for too long? Have you been fully indoctrinated now?
Tom: Whatever, man. Like I said, it beats the life insurance industry.
Satan: But you're still a company man to the bitter end.
Tom: Why don't you go suck your own dick or something? I'll bet you can do that.
20070713
Tom: I climbed a hill today and sat in the clouds.
Satan: That's nice.
Tom: I have that scary/exhilarating feeling of freedom, total freedom, like I know my place as a tiny little speck in the universe but I have my will and as such I set plans into motion and now those plans are coming to fruition and once again I'm going off on an adventure to somewhere I've never been before and I'm not really just a piece of shit office grunt...
Satan: Wow. Go easy there tiger, you're foaming at the mouth.
Tom: It feels... healthy.
Satan: That's nice.
Tom: I have that scary/exhilarating feeling of freedom, total freedom, like I know my place as a tiny little speck in the universe but I have my will and as such I set plans into motion and now those plans are coming to fruition and once again I'm going off on an adventure to somewhere I've never been before and I'm not really just a piece of shit office grunt...
Satan: Wow. Go easy there tiger, you're foaming at the mouth.
Tom: It feels... healthy.
20070618
20070616
Tom: I'm hiding out next weekend.
Satan: Why?
Tom: Because of the pride parade.
Satan: What's wrong with having a gay pride parade?
Tom: I'm not gay. I'm suspicious of any kind of "pride". And I fuckin hate parades.
Satan: So what are you going to do instead?
Tom: Close the shutters, drink beer, smoke, contemplate, play video games, write, clean, play with the cats, and talk on the phone.
Satan: That's so boring I'm speechless.
Tom: No it's not and you know it.
Satan: Why?
Tom: Because of the pride parade.
Satan: What's wrong with having a gay pride parade?
Tom: I'm not gay. I'm suspicious of any kind of "pride". And I fuckin hate parades.
Satan: So what are you going to do instead?
Tom: Close the shutters, drink beer, smoke, contemplate, play video games, write, clean, play with the cats, and talk on the phone.
Satan: That's so boring I'm speechless.
Tom: No it's not and you know it.
20070325
Tom: I have to get out of his country.
Satan: Why?
Tom: My tax money is being used to wage war in Iraq.
Satan: I see.
Tom: Yeah. If I leave the country, then none of the money I earn will buy bombs or bullets that kill Iraqi civilians.
Satan: Congratulations.
Tom: Complacent fuck.
Satan: Oh am I?
Tom: Well, um, I don't know. That's kind of why I brought the whole thing up. Am I being melodramatic? Is there something I'm missing?
Satan: What do you want from me? I'm the Lord of the Underworld. I thrive on this shit. I love death and destruction and charred corpses. I love seeing dead children. Chaos becomes me.
Tom: Well, I don't like it. I want people to be as happy as possible. I can't kid myself any longer. I'm sure every country has something shameful to hide, but my god, it's got to be less than what the American government perpetuates.
Satan: Well, what's the solution?
Tom: Ask countries to establish "aggression free zones"- designate areas that will donate no tax money to funding any military endeavors- recruitment, munitions, any kind of war contracting. How much would you bet that these areas are the safest in any country from terrorism? And maybe countries can use this in a big game of weapons non-proliferation.
Satan: No I mean what's your short-term solution?
Tom: I'm going to go to a country that doesn't contribute to the Iraq war.
Satan: As far as you know.
Tom: That's right fuckface.
Satan: Why?
Tom: My tax money is being used to wage war in Iraq.
Satan: I see.
Tom: Yeah. If I leave the country, then none of the money I earn will buy bombs or bullets that kill Iraqi civilians.
Satan: Congratulations.
Tom: Complacent fuck.
Satan: Oh am I?
Tom: Well, um, I don't know. That's kind of why I brought the whole thing up. Am I being melodramatic? Is there something I'm missing?
Satan: What do you want from me? I'm the Lord of the Underworld. I thrive on this shit. I love death and destruction and charred corpses. I love seeing dead children. Chaos becomes me.
Tom: Well, I don't like it. I want people to be as happy as possible. I can't kid myself any longer. I'm sure every country has something shameful to hide, but my god, it's got to be less than what the American government perpetuates.
Satan: Well, what's the solution?
Tom: Ask countries to establish "aggression free zones"- designate areas that will donate no tax money to funding any military endeavors- recruitment, munitions, any kind of war contracting. How much would you bet that these areas are the safest in any country from terrorism? And maybe countries can use this in a big game of weapons non-proliferation.
Satan: No I mean what's your short-term solution?
Tom: I'm going to go to a country that doesn't contribute to the Iraq war.
Satan: As far as you know.
Tom: That's right fuckface.
20070209
Tom: I'm tired of my current world view.
Satan: That's a pretty broad complaint, do you think you can narrow it down a bit?
Tom: Well, I don't feel like I have a whole lot of long-term hope in my life. I think that the world view (reality-tunnel, whatever you want to call it) that I use as the basis for all of my actions is as accurate as it can possibly be, but it's kind of depressing.
Satan: Why?
Tom: I don't know if I believe in anything other than what I perceive. We're here, wherever here is, and this is all we've got. As I recently explained to a Christian friend, rather than making life meaningless, this "one-shot deal" approach imbues every action with importance. Since this is all we've got we have to make the most of it. I take it for granted that, as the existentialists say, this brings about tremendous responsibility, but I accept that and I am determined to make the most of it with the tools I have.
Satan: Do you feel like you're doing a satisfactory job of that?
Tom: Well, um, yes. Unless I let simple animal fears get to me too much or I forget the transient nature of everything I see and experience.
Satan: Then what's the problem?
Tom: Well, I AM going to die some day. Everything I ever knew and cared for will be gone. Won't that kind of suck?
Satan: Well, maybe, I suppose that depends on your point of view. At this point I would ask you to remember two things- you won't be around to experience the moment when everything you ever knew or cared for ceases to exist, and it's inevitable that that's going to happen, so there's no use getting too worked up about it anyways, right?
Tom: I guess not, but lately I've been considering constructing an alternate reality-tunnel to dip into from time to time where things work out happily ever after as my brain would like them to work out at any given moment. I call it my happily-ever-as-defined-by-me-at-any-given-moment world view.
Satan: That's a lot of hyphens.
Tom: Is that your only criticism?
Satan: Well, it's certainly no more egocentric than any of the world views espoused by any of the major religions. Are you sure you don't just miss believing in God?
Tom: No, not at all. That didn't even give me any real peace when I was five years old. It didn't stop pets from dying or forests from disappearing or people from going hungry. What I'm suggesting is simply being open to the possibility that there is data out there that I haven't encountered yet that might mutate my current everything-changes (goes "extinct") reality tunnel into something that doesn't seem quite so gloomy at times.
Satan: Knock yourself out, kid.
Tom: Thanks.
Satan: That's a pretty broad complaint, do you think you can narrow it down a bit?
Tom: Well, I don't feel like I have a whole lot of long-term hope in my life. I think that the world view (reality-tunnel, whatever you want to call it) that I use as the basis for all of my actions is as accurate as it can possibly be, but it's kind of depressing.
Satan: Why?
Tom: I don't know if I believe in anything other than what I perceive. We're here, wherever here is, and this is all we've got. As I recently explained to a Christian friend, rather than making life meaningless, this "one-shot deal" approach imbues every action with importance. Since this is all we've got we have to make the most of it. I take it for granted that, as the existentialists say, this brings about tremendous responsibility, but I accept that and I am determined to make the most of it with the tools I have.
Satan: Do you feel like you're doing a satisfactory job of that?
Tom: Well, um, yes. Unless I let simple animal fears get to me too much or I forget the transient nature of everything I see and experience.
Satan: Then what's the problem?
Tom: Well, I AM going to die some day. Everything I ever knew and cared for will be gone. Won't that kind of suck?
Satan: Well, maybe, I suppose that depends on your point of view. At this point I would ask you to remember two things- you won't be around to experience the moment when everything you ever knew or cared for ceases to exist, and it's inevitable that that's going to happen, so there's no use getting too worked up about it anyways, right?
Tom: I guess not, but lately I've been considering constructing an alternate reality-tunnel to dip into from time to time where things work out happily ever after as my brain would like them to work out at any given moment. I call it my happily-ever-as-defined-by-me-at-any-given-moment world view.
Satan: That's a lot of hyphens.
Tom: Is that your only criticism?
Satan: Well, it's certainly no more egocentric than any of the world views espoused by any of the major religions. Are you sure you don't just miss believing in God?
Tom: No, not at all. That didn't even give me any real peace when I was five years old. It didn't stop pets from dying or forests from disappearing or people from going hungry. What I'm suggesting is simply being open to the possibility that there is data out there that I haven't encountered yet that might mutate my current everything-changes (goes "extinct") reality tunnel into something that doesn't seem quite so gloomy at times.
Satan: Knock yourself out, kid.
Tom: Thanks.
20070206
Satan: Well, look who it is. Had some sort of depressive fit of late?
Tom: Maybe. I don't know. I tell you this though- the thought of going to work tomorrow to pay my elecricity bill and a part of a credit card bill seems like the biggest fucking con in the world, and I'm the mark.
Satan: Can't take this shit much longer, eh?
Tom: Nope. But as the man said, "I would do anything for love..."
Satan: I hate that song.
Tom: Me too. But that's the only reason I'm here.
Satan: Sounds like you're making the most of the situation.
Tom: Oh fuck you. I joined a really cool band and it fuckin broke up. Nothing to do with me. I look around a little bit and nothing interests me. I'm going to finish recording my Squid single and play in the subway. That's about all I want to do musically at this point.
Satan: Great. You fascinate me.
Tom: Dude, I just cleaned the whole fuckin apartment, I'm sorry I'm too tired to entertain you...
Satan: Go to sleep.
Tom: I am asleep.
Tom: Maybe. I don't know. I tell you this though- the thought of going to work tomorrow to pay my elecricity bill and a part of a credit card bill seems like the biggest fucking con in the world, and I'm the mark.
Satan: Can't take this shit much longer, eh?
Tom: Nope. But as the man said, "I would do anything for love..."
Satan: I hate that song.
Tom: Me too. But that's the only reason I'm here.
Satan: Sounds like you're making the most of the situation.
Tom: Oh fuck you. I joined a really cool band and it fuckin broke up. Nothing to do with me. I look around a little bit and nothing interests me. I'm going to finish recording my Squid single and play in the subway. That's about all I want to do musically at this point.
Satan: Great. You fascinate me.
Tom: Dude, I just cleaned the whole fuckin apartment, I'm sorry I'm too tired to entertain you...
Satan: Go to sleep.
Tom: I am asleep.
20061202
Satan: I see you pacing back and forth over there. What's the problem?
Tom: Dude, it's such a stupid problem that I don't even know if I want to talk about it.
Satan: Well you're never going to figure it out by pacing.
Tom: I'm pissed about cleaning up my house. I like things a bit neater than Kendra and our apartment is almost always dirtier than I'd like it to be.
Satan: Have you guys talked about it?
Tom: Yes several times, and I don't feel like a satisfactory compromise has ever been reached.
Satan: If you had your way, what would happen?
Tom: Well for starters Kendra would have cleaned out the catbox like she said she would. This disturbs me because when I was at her parents' house last weekend I saw them ask her to clean up some empty cans in the basement and she seemed to ignore them. It seemed odd to me that they would even ask her that- wait, I don't think they asked, I think they told her.
Satan: And let me guess- you don't want to be a parental figure to her?
Tom: Correct. I just want my apartment to look how it would look if I lived alone. Of course I realize that's impossible, but as I said I don't think a fair compromise has been reached. As it stands, we're both unhappy- I get pissed off about the cleaning, and she's afraid of coming home to find me in a bad mood because of the cleaning.
Satan: I think you need to make it clear to her just how important this is to you.
Tom: It's extremely important to me. I feel like I've lost control over a part of my life, and as I've attempted to address the issue I feel like a bitchy neat freak. I'm afraid of this happening with other issues that arise.
Satan: Well, to be perfectly frank I think you need to be patient and prepared to let things go from time to time, and she needs to decide if this is important enough to make a few changes in her living habits. That's what this boils down to- both of you have to make a few changes. And in the long run these aren't big changes- it's not like you hate the way she dresses or she hates the way you laughs. The things you need to change aren't that big of a deal- changing them is. Even though this may be something you're both willing to change, thus far you're the only one who's made any changes. The nature of this type of quandry dictates that the person who likes it cleaner always loses. That's not fair, so you're upset. And this isn't the sort of thing that gets fixed in a day. What you need to know is that more often than not you're going to come home to a clean house, and she needs to know that you're not going to be suddenly angry with her and make her feel like a slob. But to establish that, I think you guys need to talk this out some more decide how important it is to each of you, lay some ground rules, and stick to them over a period of time.
Tom: Sounds good to me.
Satan: Yeah well it takes two to tango. And Kendra's not going to be up for another hour or two.
Tom: What should I do?
Satan: Eat something, clean the catbox, jerk off, play some video games, and go for a walk. Later, when she's awake and you guys have already talked about other things, bring it up calmly and gently.
Tom: Where's the part where we fuck like crazed weasels?
Satan: Um, I don't think you need any advice about that.
Tom: Ha-ha! Bitch.
Tom: Dude, it's such a stupid problem that I don't even know if I want to talk about it.
Satan: Well you're never going to figure it out by pacing.
Tom: I'm pissed about cleaning up my house. I like things a bit neater than Kendra and our apartment is almost always dirtier than I'd like it to be.
Satan: Have you guys talked about it?
Tom: Yes several times, and I don't feel like a satisfactory compromise has ever been reached.
Satan: If you had your way, what would happen?
Tom: Well for starters Kendra would have cleaned out the catbox like she said she would. This disturbs me because when I was at her parents' house last weekend I saw them ask her to clean up some empty cans in the basement and she seemed to ignore them. It seemed odd to me that they would even ask her that- wait, I don't think they asked, I think they told her.
Satan: And let me guess- you don't want to be a parental figure to her?
Tom: Correct. I just want my apartment to look how it would look if I lived alone. Of course I realize that's impossible, but as I said I don't think a fair compromise has been reached. As it stands, we're both unhappy- I get pissed off about the cleaning, and she's afraid of coming home to find me in a bad mood because of the cleaning.
Satan: I think you need to make it clear to her just how important this is to you.
Tom: It's extremely important to me. I feel like I've lost control over a part of my life, and as I've attempted to address the issue I feel like a bitchy neat freak. I'm afraid of this happening with other issues that arise.
Satan: Well, to be perfectly frank I think you need to be patient and prepared to let things go from time to time, and she needs to decide if this is important enough to make a few changes in her living habits. That's what this boils down to- both of you have to make a few changes. And in the long run these aren't big changes- it's not like you hate the way she dresses or she hates the way you laughs. The things you need to change aren't that big of a deal- changing them is. Even though this may be something you're both willing to change, thus far you're the only one who's made any changes. The nature of this type of quandry dictates that the person who likes it cleaner always loses. That's not fair, so you're upset. And this isn't the sort of thing that gets fixed in a day. What you need to know is that more often than not you're going to come home to a clean house, and she needs to know that you're not going to be suddenly angry with her and make her feel like a slob. But to establish that, I think you guys need to talk this out some more decide how important it is to each of you, lay some ground rules, and stick to them over a period of time.
Tom: Sounds good to me.
Satan: Yeah well it takes two to tango. And Kendra's not going to be up for another hour or two.
Tom: What should I do?
Satan: Eat something, clean the catbox, jerk off, play some video games, and go for a walk. Later, when she's awake and you guys have already talked about other things, bring it up calmly and gently.
Tom: Where's the part where we fuck like crazed weasels?
Satan: Um, I don't think you need any advice about that.
Tom: Ha-ha! Bitch.
20061020
Tom: Hi.
Satan: Well hello there.
Tom: Guess what?
Satan: Um, what?
Tom: I don't have anything to complain about.
Satan: Hahahaha! Ahahahaha!
Tom: Fuck you.
Satan: Ahahahahaha! Hahahahaha!
Tom:
Satan: Hahahahahahahaha! Oh... ahahahahaha!!!
Tom: ARE YOU FUCKING FINISHED?
Satan: Ahahaha!!! Hoo boy... Nothing to complain about? You?
Tom: I just looked at that last post. All of that shit's changed.
Satan: Is that so?
Tom: Yeah. Kendra and I moved out, she's not stressed about school (at the moment), and my stepdad had surgery to remove the tumor.
Satan: That was all my doing, you know.
Tom: I know. I also know better than to get too comfortable.
Satan: Eh, I wouldn't worry about it. That's the deal with you humans. You complain about everything and in the rare moments when you're actually content you can't help incessantly worrying about the next undesirable thing that may be coming your way.
Tom: Shit man, give us a break. It's not like any of us have ever done this "living" thing before, you smug, pointy-tailed fuck. Seems to me that most people are taught that feeling good is bad, what Wilhelm Reich called "pleasure anxiety".
Satan: What's the solution, doctor?
Tom: I dunno. Read a book. Chill out. Realize you're going to die one day and try not to get too stressed out about it. Don't be a dick.
Satan: Nice.
Tom: I guess it works better in theory than in practice. I can't help but think that the psycho-social development of humans throughout history mirrors that of the individual.
Satan: Are you suggesting that mankind is still in some sort of asshole junior high school phase?
Tom: More like some psychotic junior high school phase. Then again, maybe that's who we are.
Satan: Jeez, and Christians think I'm an asshole...
Satan: Well hello there.
Tom: Guess what?
Satan: Um, what?
Tom: I don't have anything to complain about.
Satan: Hahahaha! Ahahahaha!
Tom: Fuck you.
Satan: Ahahahahaha! Hahahahaha!
Tom:
Satan: Hahahahahahahaha! Oh... ahahahahaha!!!
Tom: ARE YOU FUCKING FINISHED?
Satan: Ahahaha!!! Hoo boy... Nothing to complain about? You?
Tom: I just looked at that last post. All of that shit's changed.
Satan: Is that so?
Tom: Yeah. Kendra and I moved out, she's not stressed about school (at the moment), and my stepdad had surgery to remove the tumor.
Satan: That was all my doing, you know.
Tom: I know. I also know better than to get too comfortable.
Satan: Eh, I wouldn't worry about it. That's the deal with you humans. You complain about everything and in the rare moments when you're actually content you can't help incessantly worrying about the next undesirable thing that may be coming your way.
Tom: Shit man, give us a break. It's not like any of us have ever done this "living" thing before, you smug, pointy-tailed fuck. Seems to me that most people are taught that feeling good is bad, what Wilhelm Reich called "pleasure anxiety".
Satan: What's the solution, doctor?
Tom: I dunno. Read a book. Chill out. Realize you're going to die one day and try not to get too stressed out about it. Don't be a dick.
Satan: Nice.
Tom: I guess it works better in theory than in practice. I can't help but think that the psycho-social development of humans throughout history mirrors that of the individual.
Satan: Are you suggesting that mankind is still in some sort of asshole junior high school phase?
Tom: More like some psychotic junior high school phase. Then again, maybe that's who we are.
Satan: Jeez, and Christians think I'm an asshole...
20060314
Tom: Hey.
Satan: Hey, what's up?
Tom: My living situation sucks and my girlfriend has been tired and stressed out for the past two weeks and I fear that she doesn't want me as much as I want her. And my stepdad has a big tumor in the roof of his mouth. It's taking an enormous emotional toll on him and my mom.
Satan: Well, let's start with the girlfriend. Are you afraid she's not telling you something?
Tom: Sort of. She's a lot quieter than I am in these matters.
Satan: What are you going to do?
Tom: About what?
Satan: Um... the living situation.
Tom: Well, all I can do right now is save up money to move out.
Satan: Are you doing that?
Tom: Yes. Not as much as I'd like.
Satan: You and Kendra are supposed to move out together?
Tom: We're not "supposed" to do anything.
Satan: Sorry. You've been talking about moving out together?
Tom: Yes.
Satan: You know she's really stressed out from school. You remember that, right?
Tom: Yes.
Satan: So your living situation, your love life, and your family's health kinda suck right now.
Tom: Yep.
Satan:
Tom:
Satan: I got nothin'.
Tom: Me neither.
Satan: What would your ideal circumstances be right now?
Tom: Kendra would be refreshed and completely horny for me, so much so that I'd wake up to her molesting me, I'd have a spare thousand dollars in the bank, and my roommate Jonathan will have sold all of the puppies that are keeping me up at night, shrieking because they're locked in a cramped utility closet. Every rotten motherfucker in this town with a bad attitude would disappear, and my stepdad wouldn't have a large tumor in his mouth.
Satan: That's a tall order.
Tom: No shit Sherlock.
Satan: I'll see what I can do.
Tom:
Satan:
Tom: Really?
Satan: Yeah, hold on a sec.
Tom: (waiting)
Satan: Okay. It's a done deal.
Tom: Thank you Satan.
Satan: Any time.
Satan: Hey, what's up?
Tom: My living situation sucks and my girlfriend has been tired and stressed out for the past two weeks and I fear that she doesn't want me as much as I want her. And my stepdad has a big tumor in the roof of his mouth. It's taking an enormous emotional toll on him and my mom.
Satan: Well, let's start with the girlfriend. Are you afraid she's not telling you something?
Tom: Sort of. She's a lot quieter than I am in these matters.
Satan: What are you going to do?
Tom: About what?
Satan: Um... the living situation.
Tom: Well, all I can do right now is save up money to move out.
Satan: Are you doing that?
Tom: Yes. Not as much as I'd like.
Satan: You and Kendra are supposed to move out together?
Tom: We're not "supposed" to do anything.
Satan: Sorry. You've been talking about moving out together?
Tom: Yes.
Satan: You know she's really stressed out from school. You remember that, right?
Tom: Yes.
Satan: So your living situation, your love life, and your family's health kinda suck right now.
Tom: Yep.
Satan:
Tom:
Satan: I got nothin'.
Tom: Me neither.
Satan: What would your ideal circumstances be right now?
Tom: Kendra would be refreshed and completely horny for me, so much so that I'd wake up to her molesting me, I'd have a spare thousand dollars in the bank, and my roommate Jonathan will have sold all of the puppies that are keeping me up at night, shrieking because they're locked in a cramped utility closet. Every rotten motherfucker in this town with a bad attitude would disappear, and my stepdad wouldn't have a large tumor in his mouth.
Satan: That's a tall order.
Tom: No shit Sherlock.
Satan: I'll see what I can do.
Tom:
Satan:
Tom: Really?
Satan: Yeah, hold on a sec.
Tom: (waiting)
Satan: Okay. It's a done deal.
Tom: Thank you Satan.
Satan: Any time.
20060222
Tom: Hi there.
Satan: Hi.
Tom: How ya doin buddy?
Satan: Oh pretty good.
Tom: Been keeping yourself occupied all this time?
Satan: Very funny.
Tom: Why?
Satan: You know the the word "time" means nothing to me.
Tom: Jesus Christ, you diabolical screwhead, I'm just making conversation.
Satan: Oh, just can it you twinky, and tell me what's on your mind.
Tom: Nothing really. I just read an excellent biography of William James Sidis by Amy Wallace called "The Prodigy". It's totally renewed my interest in intellectual pursuits.
Satan: Are you saying you've been on an intellectual hiatus?
Tom: Of course not. It's just that now, since I've graduated, I've got more time to devote to, well, whatever I want. I picked up an Arabic grammar book, "501 Spanish Verbs", and two Mensa puzzle books.
Satan: Mensa puzzle books? You know you'll eventually get bored with those puzzle books and take them back without having read more than a few pages of either of them, and you'll feel like a failure.
Tom: But I want to get in to Mensa.
Satan: Why on earth would you waste time doing that?
Tom: Well, partly for the possibility of meeting other pretentious intellectuals, but mostly just to piss Ray off. I mean, once you're in, you're in for life. You pay your dues and they give you a smart card. I'd love to be able to whip that baby out in an argument and shut everyone up.
Satan: You know it's all a scam, right?
Tom: What do you mean?
Satan: The whole Mensa thing. Let's put it into context: A group of people get together and say, "We're going to start a smart club." Who wouldn't want to be in a smart club? And who determines who's smart enough to be in their little club? They do. Right there, they've got you. Either you pass their little entrance exam and conform to the intellectual herd, or you take a stand and say "I know that intelligence is too varied a thing to be measured with standardized tests, nor does any existing intelligence test measure creativity, emotional maturity, or drive. Therefore I will not subject myself to your club's critique." Either way, you lose.
Tom: You know, I totally agree with you, but I can't shake the sneaking suspicion that if they offered you a membership, you'd join in a heartbeat. Just to get a smart card. Basically you're just jealous cuz they wouldn't let you in. I saw your test results.
Satan: You're so right. And I hate you.
Tom: Just one question: How could the all-knowing Prince of Darkness fail the entrance exam to Mensa?
Satan: I'm not talking to you any more today.
Satan: Hi.
Tom: How ya doin buddy?
Satan: Oh pretty good.
Tom: Been keeping yourself occupied all this time?
Satan: Very funny.
Tom: Why?
Satan: You know the the word "time" means nothing to me.
Tom: Jesus Christ, you diabolical screwhead, I'm just making conversation.
Satan: Oh, just can it you twinky, and tell me what's on your mind.
Tom: Nothing really. I just read an excellent biography of William James Sidis by Amy Wallace called "The Prodigy". It's totally renewed my interest in intellectual pursuits.
Satan: Are you saying you've been on an intellectual hiatus?
Tom: Of course not. It's just that now, since I've graduated, I've got more time to devote to, well, whatever I want. I picked up an Arabic grammar book, "501 Spanish Verbs", and two Mensa puzzle books.
Satan: Mensa puzzle books? You know you'll eventually get bored with those puzzle books and take them back without having read more than a few pages of either of them, and you'll feel like a failure.
Tom: But I want to get in to Mensa.
Satan: Why on earth would you waste time doing that?
Tom: Well, partly for the possibility of meeting other pretentious intellectuals, but mostly just to piss Ray off. I mean, once you're in, you're in for life. You pay your dues and they give you a smart card. I'd love to be able to whip that baby out in an argument and shut everyone up.
Satan: You know it's all a scam, right?
Tom: What do you mean?
Satan: The whole Mensa thing. Let's put it into context: A group of people get together and say, "We're going to start a smart club." Who wouldn't want to be in a smart club? And who determines who's smart enough to be in their little club? They do. Right there, they've got you. Either you pass their little entrance exam and conform to the intellectual herd, or you take a stand and say "I know that intelligence is too varied a thing to be measured with standardized tests, nor does any existing intelligence test measure creativity, emotional maturity, or drive. Therefore I will not subject myself to your club's critique." Either way, you lose.
Tom: You know, I totally agree with you, but I can't shake the sneaking suspicion that if they offered you a membership, you'd join in a heartbeat. Just to get a smart card. Basically you're just jealous cuz they wouldn't let you in. I saw your test results.
Satan: You're so right. And I hate you.
Tom: Just one question: How could the all-knowing Prince of Darkness fail the entrance exam to Mensa?
Satan: I'm not talking to you any more today.
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