Sunday 3/23/25
I think I may be all set with the getting up multiple times in the middle of the night thing and the culprit was all of the coffee I drank, even though that was in the early part of the day. Yesterday I went from three o'clock in the afternoon, until one in the morning--which is when I got up to start my day after a few hours of sleep--without using the bathroom, and I also drank two liters of water. Cutting back on the coffee is all that I've changed--making sure to keep my intake under thirty-two ounces a day.
I did a bit of reading up yesterday regarding protein, as it occurred to me that I may not get enough now with what I eat, but I think I'm okay. Swiss cheese has protein, as do walnuts and peanuts.
Phylicia Rashad defends a serial rapist and then a bit of time goes by and people--and so many women--praise her and call her "queen," which is such an odd and disturbing thing to do in its own right. You see all of these zaftig women referring to themselves as a queen. It's so creepy and bizarre and sad. But this love-fest for Rashad. What is wrong with everyone? I mean that rhetorically, because I know, of course. There's no sincerity in this world. People are just full of shit, all the time, and they say what they do to get what they want. They say what's convenient for them.
If you post the likes of this on social media
look I really genuinely like the Beatles but I’m not sure it’s getting better all the time
you will get yourself nine likes or so, because it is moronic and witless. Those nine likes will be more than I ever got for anything, whether that was a book coming out, some piece or story in some allegedly vaunted venue, fixing my heart issues, successfully giving up drinking, or sharing any of thousands of fascinating things that no one else knows about music, film, art, sports, life.
Because this is how the world works now. This is what it's about. Being an unfunny, uninteresting quasi-person with nothing to say, so that everyone who is that way--which is just about everyone else--can feel like that quasi-person is like them and they're no worse or lower than that quasi-person, because they are as basic as they are, as empty, as simple, as essentially dead, and in this way the "liker"/supporter/fan/customer/awarder/subscriber--whatever they are--doesn't feel threatened or insecure or weaker in the ego as a result.
And that's all it's about now. Nothing else. All outward forms of success--what we associate with success--are predicated on this single idea. "I could do that/I could say that/I do that/I say that/that person is achievable for me/I'm like them without having to be any better, smarter, funnier, harder working."
People like to say it's Trump, it's the dating apps, it's a host of other things, but nope: It's this. Here's the problem. You have to suck now, or you will have problems. But if you suck, you might as well be dead. You basically are. You're not alive, you're not a person, you're not an individual, you don't try, you're just there and are breathing, and probably are bad at that, because chances are you're in wretched shape. You're a functional illiterate, you can't come up with anything on your own be it a thought, a phrase, doesn't matter; you can barely read, you can't write at a second grade level (that is, you don't know how then and than work, or apostrophes, or where the dollar sign goes, or that "of" isn't "have", etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.), you watch what everyone else watches because you could never be interested in anything on your own and need shit rammed in your face to partake of anything, you say the word "literally" in just about every sentence because you are so impotent when it comes to being able to express yourself, you seek out nothing, you venture nowhere new on your own figuratively or emotionally or mentally or spiritually and often physically unless it's for your vacation which you post about endlessly on social media, you think the world began when you became a certain age and that nothing existed before you, you are a massive narcissist despite not having a single interesting thing about you--I mean truly about you; not something that happened that time in your life like when a monkey got loose at the zoo and chased you; you have no curiosity, rote phrases and buzz words have taken the place of a personality, you're with someone because what else are you going to do and you can't spend any time with your own thoughts and you were so scared and desperate not to be alone--though you are alone, ironically, in the dead husk that is your soul for lack of a better term--and you don't love them and they don't love you, you have no real friends, you don't have the ability to be a friend, you're a coward, you have no purpose, nothing inside of you on which to draw, no insight, no wisdom, despise the truth, have no self-awareness, likely think of Ozempic as a potential cure to what ails you, probably self-medicate, need to be lied to, coddled, enabled, and could be considered an example of weakness personified save that you'd have to be a person for that to technically be true and there's much more to being an actual person than sitting there breathing with all of these other things being place, the totality of which negate any idea of person-ness.
As for the joke: Only a moron can make that joke, because you'd have to be a moron not to understand that the song in no way says that everything in life gets better all the time, but rather that things are improving some--but not really, in a sense, as the song is meant ironically ("It can't get much worse")--for the singer of that song. It's a slice of that day/attitude/mood/emotional vignette type of deal with droll overtones. Not smiley face rah rah bish boom bah.
Now, someone might say, "You're overthinking it!" to which I'd counter by asking, "How? By not being an idiot who doesn't require more than a fraction of a second to realize this incredibly simple thing?" But ha ha ha ha ha. Yucks yucks yucks. I click the bio, I see the all of the posts like this from this person, I see the tens of thousands of followers--for the likes of this--and yep. There it is is. There's your world now. That's how she works.
And people don't get why everyone is so miserable? Really? It's because we do no better than this, we venerate this, we insist that everyone be like this. There can be no striving, no individuality, no real connection, no honesty, no greatness, no attempts to be great. Truly great. Not bullshit fake ass social media posturing great.
Bruins lost again. They may not win again this season. Wouldn't matter if they won out at this point. Very close to mathematically eliminated now I would imagine.
Today marks 3178 days, or 454 weeks, without a drink. Ran five more circuits of stairs in the Monument yesterday. They let me in fifteen minutes early, which was helpful, because there were a lot of people for the fourth day in a row. So many people get offended when you pass them. It's like, You're in awful shape. I'm not spending the next twenty minutes behind your giant caboose. Is that the expectation? The entitlement of people.
You see this in the Monument, too. If people think you're better than them at anything, they don't like you. It takes a very secure-in-themselves person not to have a problem with someone else they've identified as such in whatever capacity it is. If they see you not struggling in that Monument, and doing the "right" thing in actually working out, and in being fit, they detest you. Not everyone, but the looks, the complaints, the sighs, sometimes the outright confrontation--I've experienced this for the better of a decade now, and it's gotten worse and worse with each passing year. Hell, each passing few months. Because people get worse, society gets worse, culture gets worse, the world gets worse.
Worked on three stories. At the same time--page of this one, couple pages of this other one, jump to the second page of that other one. Keeps it fresh with the amount of work I put into these. As soon as I go into one of them, it might as well be the only thing in the world that exists and I'm in that story's world completely. It has me fully, and every part of me.
By the by: "Getting Better" is typical of the songs of Sgt. Pepper in that it's not this all-timer of a song in its own right, but it's one of the pieces that together with the rest of the album's pieces creates a whole far greater than the sum of its parts. This is something that people now fail to understand with Sgt. Pepper, which is why it's actually become underrated. They single out the songs on something like Revolver, but the latter doesn't cohere like Pepper does, and it's not that Pepper coheres because of its "concept," which is dropped early on, though it's effectively rekindled near the end, but one could argue that that part of the concept is very nearly self-contained and in service to the setting up of the "encore," if you will--of real life and real death and the why and what of it all--that is "A Day in the Life."
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