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Scrambled cities: If you're not gonna do the work(on your soul), then you might as well work til you die

 There are two tiers in normal life. Those who are survive and those who thrive.  But nothing is a mistake in life: Nothing comes by chance. You have to prepare for it.  If you thought life was about making money and beating out the Jones's, you've lost already.  Life is: Desire for connection. All unhealthy competition is isolating. We live in an isolated-enough world already. This connection comes from a surprising place: Self-acceptance. A lot of us need to go back to the classroom. A lot of us need to take a silent breather and check in with what we need. This takes serious work. It's the real work. It relies on respect for others and self-respect.  A lot of people in the self-help community try to push the self aside: Manning up is the only side of it they see. But there are certain non-negotiables in this life. Certain things we can't cheat ourselves out of. We are not a piece of meat being acted on.    However, this is where God comes in. Some o...
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Why can't I just

Only the drugs can capture lust as it should be delivered, in all its power and convincing glory, right to the site of your pain, the mind. That was the trouble with life, it wasn't druggy enough. It didn't have the promise of immortality, only the sure promise of death and shiveling away - like dogs ripping  at you at all sides, piece by piece and in slow motion, a piece of yourself every year, these dogs of time -  insatiable and neverending agents of the most humiliating pedigree. And they had you by the throat in the end. Come to think of it, if this was a show, not only that, but if, as it appeared to be, it was a pretty violent one, it was just slowed down show, a fact that, in the final analysis didn't change a thing. The conclusion was the same. It would happen one way or another. The slowness whereby it happened just made it a trick of the light. And a trick of the light, as physicists speak of in quantum terms, is no more than a trick of time. . . (Or is that a "trickle" of time? Well. In any case). . . You could argue that there was nothing good or wholesome about this sorry business of life. Motivation itself was overrated, the ironic celebration before the next punishing cataclysm, or more reliably; the next banal disappointment.

So sometimes you just wanted to have your cake and eat it. You just wanted to commit heinous acts against the moon, that symbol of virginal purity. You know. Send a nuke or two up there and finish off the whole lurid business in truly apocalyptic style. Watch things tumble apart. The oceans tear apart cities, the cities tear apart people, and the people each other. You wanted life - all life - to reach its in-built conclusion sooner rather than later and thus put all these myriad illusions that make up the daily grind to bed. It was a tragedy to see one poor bastard suffering, let alone 7 billion naked apes and change. Just pull the trigger and make it happen. It was the compassionate thing to do. Total collapse, being imminent one way or the other, could be elevated to a fun experiment. A final hurrah to not only your saga, but that of an entire clockwork garden.

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