Someone told me talking to women was completely different from talking to men
Familial desire circumventing physical rationality
I don't ******* get it
Flesh is flesh
There is no separation between this body and the next
No delineation save for my own arbitrary ones
This world is chaos bound by imposition
And none of it is real
I'm not even going to say middle class conceptions of family are constructs
Everything is a construct
Knowledge is anthropic chaos
Don't pretend you can tell the difference between essential existence and our subjective reordering of boundless matter
A gap does not form between a molecule of air and a molecule of flesh
I am trapped in my own sensations but I am not defined by them
So back to the story of material existence reduced to reproductive imperative
Treating all of the other *** as a means to displace one's self beyond annihilation into temporal infinity
Who ******* cares?
Legacy does not carry on after death
Legacy does not even carry through life
Language breaks down the moment we open our mouths
No one will ever view your life the way you view it
Splashing through a pool, ripples morph all reflections into monstrous amalgamations
Hey, tell me
Do you even remember yourself that clearly?
Hollow triumph, grandfather's bones in a grandfather clock ticking past twelve
Sorry, I just don't see the allure of treating half the human race as a means to satiate your own lust whether physical or genealogical
Or even categorising humans into binary dualisms that bored philosophers a century ago
Haven't you heard? God is dead
And there is no meaning to your boring male existence
3:52pm, April 10th 2016
Everyone is so ******* boring.
Trapped in traditions we dismantled two hundred years ago.
This heteronormative, andro-, euro-centric nothing view of ****, work, death. Blah ******* blah.
Stop imposing your sterile, bland patriarchal reactionist views on every ******* woman in existence.
Jesus ****.
I just don't.
I just ******* don't anything.
I just don't anything ******* just anything don't Jesus don't I anything
no no no no No no No no
stop stop stop stop stop stop stop
man wife man wife child man wife
playing in the garden, whee i'm an airplane, not aeroplane who the hell spells it aeroplane who even came up with that dad
well son, language is arguably an intersubjective field of interpreting the world into our subjective consciousness, with no core, filled with arbitrary signifiers to arbitrary signified concepts
but daddy, if everything is pointing to a concept, where does the real object come into--
shut your face timmy and go help your mother cook, until you reach the age of 16 when you must denounce all you learnt from your mother and become a real man who doesn't cook, and just lounges around and thinks 'golly, i sure wish i could be like my dad and wear a suit and lose all sense of self to the capitalist self-annihilating death machine of corporate hegemony'
yaaaaaaaaaaaaaay
