I'm pretty sure that the life I am leading now is probably going to be viewed, in retrospect, as something of a waste. That's a pretty harsh assessment but wtf, I've been wrong before so I might as well just let fly. On the outside I am successful, prickly for sure but successful. I'm living the words of David Bryne. It'd be nice if I could see the humor in that but I'm thinking that I'm really just killing myself so my kids can be wage slaves.
If you don't know the lyrics to this song it goes something like and you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack and from there to large automobile and beautiful wife and then the asking of well, how did I get here? Watching TV last night, the commercials went from emaciated supermodels hawking bras to make their tiny adolescent tits bulge to McDonald's selling salad and yoga to salvage their corporate image after years of selling quick greasy deathburgers to the poor, the tired and the deluded, to a Kaiser-Permanente ad saying we push blueberries not Prozac. They all push fear. Fear is how you answer the question, "how did I get here?" You fell into normalcy because outside normal is slowly, excruciatingly and viciously being eliminated.
We love our lives, the ones we build in this regime of capital, and we love our toys and our food and our kids and our gardens. It is pleasant here in the land of winking, blinking and nodding. But it is just a la la la floating island in a sea of dark monsters, some which are swimming in the opaque waters of our ignorance, some which feed on the scraps of our willful conceits, and others which we may never see as the maw opens up and swallows its' fill. Somebody told me the other day to "get over yourself." Upon reflection they were right, and then they were nothing at all.