Interview with An Unmarried Man: a disaffected journey

Q. What ails you today? O Wise One. You seem down.

A. Yes, I’m down. It doesn’t happen often, enjoy it while you can. I pride myself on my even temper but even this fucked up life gets the better of me sometimes. Even me. This was a shitty day.

Q. Strong words.

A. Yeah well you know, it’s a difficult task trying to understand and accept the sheer force of idiocy’s winds which steer our so-called “culture.” I am surrounded by morons. Lazy, useless wastes of skin running this world, perpetuating their stupid and giving it new breath with fantastically endless reserves of more…stupid.

Q. Who?

A. Everyone, damnit. People, in their present upright, modern, High-Fructose ingesting incarnation are inherently incompetent. We fucking spin our wheels all day long because it is what we do so happily and proudly, and this wheel-spinning, we memorialize it, we structure it within broader structures of helplessness and soon, we’ve created a whole network of interdependent helplessness which somehow, through the wonders of mass society, attain the image of utility and relevance and importance. Man is incapable of running a structured environment. It’s not our nature. Instead, we label everything according to what we’ve grown to learn it is though childhood, and each ensuing generation upholds the previous generation’s lie until the day we find, generations down the line, we are honoring and respecting the hollow stupidity which our ancestors told us matters and bequeathed us the shaky foundation we were led to believe deserved to continue standing. Very few of us can see man’s creations clearly for the pathetic and impotent lies and delusions they are. That is who.

Q. Do you always feel like this? What’s so special about today?

A. I haven’t the slightest clue. I rushed around in the morning before leaving because I lost my work badge (which I later discovered was found laying on the ground and turned in) and it set the bitter tone for the rest of the day. Shit kept compounding all morning long. Layers upon layers of stupidity and impotence and mediocrity, growing upon the previous layers, exponentially increasing, a din of stupidity, and I could not take it any longer. There are people, let’s say I work with them, who are egregiously and decidedly NOT conscientious but are very lazy. But the way of the corporacracy is such that excellence and quality are no longer the key to recognition in our day. It’s all about quantity in our era of bottom line fixations and self-indulgent corporate bonuses; no one gives a crap about quality now. It’s bottom line, the lowest common denominator in America. It’s all about “numbers”…really, my numbers because ultimately they solely bolster my own chances for a bonus (which are all stratified at the every top of the chain). In times of economic pain, money still goes around, but it’s more confined to select groups. Rather than everyone taking an equal hit, the greedy still take large bites and since nothing is left…oh hell. I want my bonus, they scream. Hell with other departments or my subordinates, as long as we can mold a human force of button-pushing robots, and foment a culture in which people have no choice but to be eternally grateful that they have a job to begin with. And thus able to continue paying for all the stupid shit they bought during good times. This blows for those of us who have been in the work force long enough to remember when quality counted for something. Quality now is a stick-in-the-mud fuddy-duddy concept. In today’s cheapened socially-network societal malaise, quality of any sort has lost its luster.

Q. Ah, I see It’s work.

A. Yes, and no. At lunch, I thought I would escape it all. It was a sunny, balmy day here. I walked out the building and strolled down the street to do some shopping. Swarms of Hollywoodites basking their ivory pale-tude in the fresh sun, the sidewalks lined with the trendiest and hippest and most nauseating of daytime specimens. I passed over-priced restaurants charging upwards of $10 for simple shit that the foodies gathered in circles to share in the communal trough-like ceremony of eating and talking and living life in an artificially-elevated manner of pseudo existence. Everyone is fucking trendy and full of themselves and Hollywood is really intolerable. I felt so disaffected. I felt so distant from these hordes of ridiculous people and their overpriced and pretentious everything. Them and their gluttonous, consumerist, status-fixated quivers of tremulousness rattling down their underdeveloped bones because God forbid people actually do real work anymore besides pushing pencils and paper around. God, fuck em all. And on the way home, quite the opposite, my bus was crowded, East L.A. was crowded, it’s the weather, bunch of fat, shiny, ugly people. Whereas Hollywood is skinny, white and stylish, East L.A. is the polar opposite. Both are intolerable in their own right. It was one of those days I wanted nothing to do with anybody, with this ridiculous artifice of culture which is nothing but perpetuated helplessness behind the guise of social institutions. Our mass stupidity, like Godzilla, comes alive and roars to life, and it loops, a neverending awful loop which feeds itself, devours itself, like a snake, and the residue is this aimless bureaucracy we tell ourselves is important and which we desire to fulfill and around which we create industry and fields of expertise. To adorn this empty shell of existence with the facade of life. A fragile facade, but what other is there?