Wasted-life-musings - Musings Of A Wasted Life

*Thousands of years from now*

Two archeologists dig through the abandoned ruins of what was once called “New York City”. Deep within the rubble of an old building, something small and rectangular lays in the dirt.

Upon further inspection is seems to be a book of some sort. The pages are yellowed with time and the spine is hanging by a thread of synthetic fiber.

“The Book seems to be written in a strange dialect” says Man #1.

The archaeologists take the book back to the lab for testing. Calling upon linguists from around the world, the first chapter is deciphered.

“When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.”

They were amazed at what they found. A tale of magic, bravery and great battles. Although the stories we’re far-fetched and fantastical, the paper on which was printed was thick and well cared for. Someone had gone through great trouble to produce it and therefore it must be based in truth.

And thus a new Religion was born. Faction after faction of humans flock to the site of the holy text. Finally, after thousands of years of secrecy, humanities history is finally revealed. Though there are no longer elves, hobbits or wizards, Humans have obviously prevailed and are meant to rule the Earth until the day Gandalf the White will return and lead them to Paradise.

Millions of people wear golden rings around their fingers to symbolize their devotion to their faith. Drawings and likenesses of the Prophet Frodo and Protector Bilbo hang in the home of every devout believer.

This is the one true religion. And any who reject it will be thrown deep into the flames of Mordor where Smaug will torment their souls for all eternity.

Concerning Horoscopes and Tarot Cards

A short summation, Horoscopes: bullshit, Tarot: Psychologically useful, but not for the reasons you think.  Fun fact, men ONLY know horoscopes because women place some weird emphasis on it, fun fact if you let sign compatibility dictate who you date, you deserve to be alone and we dont need your genes in the genepool.

Tarot is interesting ( not mystic at all ) in that depending what pattern you draw, its usually like this is the problem, this is a thing(s) effecting the problem, heres the things affecting you making a decision on how to solve the obstacles of the problem yadda yadda yadda.  theres nothing mystic about it, it just forces you to focus on your problems and possible causes and solutions.

In summation, horoscopes, kill yourself, dont care if youre a virgo or whatever, thats Babylonian babble.  Tarot, try it sometime

“ Dead “

Drug Users on Tumblr

There seems to me, to be two main, and clear catagories on tumblr

Category 1: Sad brainwashed 12 step recovery Jesus freaks

Category 2: little like, spoiled white bitches that think its super cool they can suck enough dick to get meth each day

of course there are alot of sub categories, I fully support the hallucinogenic crowd, theyre generally good thoughtful people ( go figure ) or theyre like teenagers that havent done it but are super into pink floyd, its ok, start dreams small.

SO, a few thoughts:

Category 1: You’re everything people hate about mormons, except unlike mormons you are still egocentric as fuck and help no one around you and still only think of yourself, and youre faggy little brainwashed recovery

Category 2: hahahahaha, what can i say, enjoy those 5 years you’re fuckable I guess there toothless, dont fall through a crack in the floor now.  ( I’m so cool, i live with my parents and have zero education and enough free time to take selfies with my crack pipe 6 times a day everyday, so other crackpipe enthusiasts can click like )

“ TRUTH IS NOT WHAT YOU WANT IT TO BE, it is what it is and you must bend to its power or live a lie “ - Miyamoto Musashi

Here’s a fairly gay song to prove a point.  The most beautiful languages in human history are as follows:

1.) Irish Gaelic

2.) Russian

3.) Japanese

French is so far down the list to me I think none of you get languages, italian too, ending every word with A or O makes it flow sure, but that doesnt mean its a pretty language, you’ve been brainwashed by movies.

Themed Blogs

You know like, the fat goth chick that makes sure every picture they post is black and white, or even worse the like color themers, people that have purple writing and tint all their pictures purple, thats not art, its fucking gay and a waste of your time and mine, get a real skill if you wanna make art.

...She rambled on, but I have never been able to get interested when women talk about themselves, it may be because women are so inept at telling a story ( That is, because they place the emphasis in the wrong places ) or for some other reason. In any case I have always turned a deaf ear. " " I feel so unhappy " " I am sure that this one phrase whispered to me would arouse my sympathy more than the longest, most painstaking account of a womans life. It amazes and astonishes me that i have never once heard a woman make this simple statement. " "...something like a silent current of misery an inch wide flowed over the surface of her body. When I lay next to her my body was enveloped in her current, which mingled with my own harsher current of gloom like ' a withered leaf settling to rest on the stones at the bottom of a pool ' I had freed myself from fear and uneasiness. "

Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

Women led me on only to throw me aside; they mocked and tortured me when others were around, only to embrace me with passion after everyone had left.  Women sleep so soundly they seem to be dead, who knows?  Women may live in order to sleep....No matter how long I went on with my antics they would ask for more, and I would become exhausted responding to their insatiable demands for encores.  They really laugh an amazing amount of the time, I suppose one can say that women stuff themselves with far more pleasure than men.

Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

Clay, did you ever love me?" I'm studying a billboard and say that I didn't hear what she said. "I asked if you ever loved me?" On the terrace the sun bursts into my eyes and for one blinding moment I see myself clearly. I remember the first time we made love, in the house in Palm Springs, her body tan and wet, lying against cool, white sheets. "Don't do this, Blair," I tell her. "Just tell me." I don't say anything. "Is it such a hard question to answer?" I look at her straight on. "Yes or no?" "Why?" "Damnit, Clay," she sighs. "Yeah, sure, I guess." "Don't lie to me." "What in the fuck do you want to hear?" "Just tell me," she says, her voice rising. "No," I almost shout. "I never did." I almost start to laugh. She draws in a breath and says, "Thank you. That's all I wanted to know." She sips her wine. "Did you ever love me?" I ask her back, though by now I can't even care. She pauses. "I thought about it and yeah, I did once. I mean I really did. Everything was all right for a while. You were kind." She looks down and then goes on. "But it was like you weren't there. Oh shit, this isn't going to make any sense." She stops. I look at her, waiting for her to go on, looking up at the billboard. Disappear Here. "I don't know if any other person I've been with has been really there, either ... but at least they tried." I finger the menu; put the cigarette out. "You never did. Other people made an effort and you just ... It was just beyond you." She takes another sip of her wine. "You were never there. I felt sorry for you for a little while, but then I found it hard to. You're a beautiful boy, Clay, but that's about it." I watch the cars pass by on Sunset. "It's hard to feel sorry for someone who doesn't care." "Yeah?" I ask. "What do you care about? What makes you happy?" "Nothing. Nothing makes me happy. I like nothing," I tell her. "Did you ever care about me, Clay?" I don't say anything, look back at the menu. "Did you ever care about me?" she asks again. "I don't want to care. If I care about things, it'll just be worse, it'll just be another thing to worry about. It's less painful if I don't care." "I cared about you for a little while." I don't say anything. She takes off her sunglasses and finally says, "I'll see you later, Clay." She gets up. "Where are you going?" I suddenly don't want to leave Blair here. I almost want to take her back with me. "Have to meet someone for lunch." "But what about us?" "What about us?" She stands there for a moment, waiting. I keep staring at the billboard until it begins to blur and when my vision becomes clearer I watch as Blair's car glides out of the parking lot and becomes lost in the haze of traffic on Sunset. The waiter comes over and asks, "Is everything okay, sir?" I look up and put my sunglasses on and try to smile. "Yeah.

Bret Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero