If you’re wondering what bitch writing is Vaziri, this is it. Forgive me everyone as I temporarily transform this blog into a stereotypical public vent for emotions.
If I grew up in the fifties, it’d be different. There was no myspace no intarwebs even. But I am convinced that the idea of a friend is lost on me because of the internet. And I’m not gonna be like Andy Rooney here and bitch about kids and their newfangled technology, but I just gotta say that human relations are changing. When someone claims that human experience is insular, and that contact is impossible between two people, one must wonder, what is friendship? What is love for that matter?
Sadly, I think this has rubbed off on me, but I think it’s merely an effect of my surroundings. How am I to view human relations? I’m not denying that I have friends, but what does that mean if experiences are insular? And here is where i really divulge and where things might seem a bit confusing, but just what the fuck does one less friend mean to you? Life is a individual experience right? We’re all alone? So what the hell does it all mean? Nothing right? That’s it, life is just nothing, to quote that one sage you unleashed upon me “You just can’t deal with the concept of NOTHING, absolutely NOTHING”, well here is a thought for you, maybe you can’t deal with the concept of something. Did you ever think of that? It’s scary for me to lack meaning in life, but it’s a fucking nightmare for you to try to make some purpose in life because that’s a challenge you can’t handle. Resign yourself to nil, that’s the simple way out.
But me, i’m gonna make purpose, I’m gonna create meaning. We’re not born with it, but day after day we work to make something of our existence, and maybe that’s bullshit to you, maybe it’s just all about stealing and streaking and saying ‘fuck the man’ and pleasing what ever instantaneous desire you have, but to me that’s just a “waste of breath, of space, of time”. I aspire to drag ships over mountains and to create the meaning for my being. Try picking up a book sometime, I suggest Sartre.
That’s where I am right now, that’s “what’s up”, and to the rest of you I apologize for this diversion. I needed to do this. Shouting profanities into the night only gets you so far. And if you’re wondering if this is about you, the long answer is it’s about everyone, and the short answer is, no.
