Saturday, 12 April 2014

Is It Possible to Enjoy The Decline? (Part One)

It was a few days ago in Dublin City and I was enjoying the decline. A bag of happy pills washed down with some Jamesons, my friend joining me for one last twisted, warped hurrah. I have decided to leave Ireland. For what or where I don't know. For what reason I don't really know either, but it has to do with the fact that standing in the crossroads of O Connell Street at five in the morning, realizing this is not your home anymore, that yous might as well be that cunt from 28 Days Later, well that certainly kicks the point home, does it not?

"As your accountant, I advise yous to come onto those two milfs"

The lowest of the low. We're happy as a fucking venereal disease in a bath house right now, but over and above, between the milfs and the happy pills and the assortment of other things in our pounces as the cougar to my left chokes on the words of the husband who left her, how "unhappy she was", "the kids" the water, yeah, it seeps over the banks just that little bit and yous cant help but feel like the meat in the rooms sandwich.

But hey, back to earlier in the night.

It takes a little while, about the duration of an episode of Breaking Bad, for the happiness to kick in. So, myself and the accountant get talking about his exciting new job, his job of shuffling through stacks of TPS reports, getting up fresh and early to eat his whole grain oat porridge (7:22), the novel (nearly finished) on the computer, the 29 year old lassie eying him over the photocopyier...bent over..

And all a cunt can think of is enjoying the decline, but he can't.

But hey, back to earlier in the day.

I'm just putting the finishing touches on a project, done dusted, decide to take a stroll through the campus. Go to the science building, the computer labs on my left. Inside, there's a list of posters for upcoming events during the weak year:





Academia is fucked ken, megaton bomb fucked en aw. People like Aaron Clarey talk about degrees in bum fluff, but they don't know the half of it, how broken it is. Between the passive aggressive, low testosterone men, which need to use the power of a whole institution to fight their own little battles, who corrupt art and literature and economics, and between that ugly, pathetic attempt to master randomness, put it in a cage and throw away the key, you have a broken, sad set of std ridden institutions.

But what else is there to do but Enjoy the Decline ken, right?

But hey, back to the night time with the accountant.

He used to be an actor in school. Used to play bass guitar in a band. Had his beliefs, his passions, his dreams. But, as time has drifted along, everything that entertains and fulfills a lad is slowly being given up, give up the ghost they say, as the shrill of the femcunt and the wee bairn invades, permeates, infects your thoughts again and agains and agains. His mindset has changed. One by one, your hobbies and passions are dropped, for a society that wouldn't think less of throwing you under a bus, just for some brownie points. The independent man, the renaissance cunt, the classic liberal, has changed his mindset to that of a provider of perfectly pounded pussy. I take a look at the cougar on the left, not sure if she's after ego validation or Well Hung Franco, but the fact of the matter is that cunts are played in the greater sphere of things, will continue to be played, and even when the truth is staring them right in the face, will rationalize it away. We provided for her. Yeah, fucking, right. Yous are eating shit. How do you feel about that? But don't worry. You've that trip to Spain. With the lads. Get your hole eh? Of course!

Then comes enjoying the decline. Aurini has written about how fallacious it is, bringing in elements of Christianity to bolster his point. Problem is ken, I'm not sure if I can just enjoy the decline. Now of course, enjoying the decline does not mean sitting in your parent's basement wanking and eating cheese, it means being your own man, whatever that may be. But despite all of the previous posts on the topic, I don't want to sit by and just let this happen, even though I know, deep down, this is going all to shit. I know it is utterly pointless of me to try, and I know I am running away from this country, and I know that for a huge amount of the population, I am public enemy number one. As long as the institutions keep standing, the Irish Xer's who have been fucked out of orbit by exorbitant mortgages, The Millenials, fucking dimwitted gamma faggots like Fintan O Toole, cunts like people before profit, it's like ducking, diving, then slamming directly into that fucking tree and watching it all burn. Basically, I want to do something which is utterly pointless, completely in vain, even fucken egotistical in its own way. But is it right? Or is it just narcissistic? As Roosh rightly pointed out, we're the useful idiots too. We're the bad guys. I've been playing guerilla warfare cunt, stupidly, but well...matter much?

We're talking, but at this stage its just wanker students in a cafe talking about Foucault. Well, fuck that's a bit harsh. But yous know what I mean. 

People talk about slavery. They talk about cotton fields. The name of this blog came from a short story about a boy who remains distracted while his teacher goes crazy in a elementary classroom. The boy's attention then shifts to his father and the nightmarish phantasmagorical nature of his work as an actuary, shifting between papers, coming home, a thankless tedium. This is not the environment of men. This is not how one feels alive.

Which makes one turn to the last point. What's happening in the world is both Kefkaesque and Kafkaesque. There's one more piece to the puzzle, but I don't know what it is.

How can one enjoy the decline? How can one just sit by, yet if one works, how can one do so knowing that people don't give two shits, and that it won't matter in the first place? How does one transcend this nihilism?

We, us, we are the hate that hate created. And what else is there to do but capture that essence of what it means to be a man, of what the bloody fuck a good man actually is?


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  2. great read. thank you