Entertainment Masochism
Recently I realized I am an Entertainment Masochist.
I could be watching some anime… maybe an old movie… I could buy a ticket to the aquarium even. Reading fun novels, manga is fine too. Chat with old friends, play a few hours of 2Fort even. Or these new singleplayer games and catch up on the last ten year scene. Right now I could boot up my own imageboard and host watch nights there, too, which I sometimes thought about, even if it’s all delusion. Could hitch my van right on the coast and with a lounge chair work on my project, playing tunes, chatting locals.
But time and time again I subjugate myself to the lowest form of entertainment possible: scrolling around. Researching programming. Why?
Because, in a way, I am afraid to have more fun. I don’t want to become one of those gacha addicts. I don’t want the alcohol or any other drug. I’ll just open and close tabs, work a little on projects, write nonsense here, and that’s that. I’m so easily entertained that I’m afraid I will watch all seasonal anime. I could probably queue every single show, no matter how stillframe and soft porn, because you can always figure out a way to power through.
I am suspicious of entertainment itself, as though it’s some malevolent djinn here to lead me to a more abstract death and the excavation of my prefrontal cortex.
The irony of ironies is that I already am under a spell, same vein, it’s in the name: a masochistic variant of Entertainment. In a way, this masochistic flavor probably hollows my insides faster than the more pure forms.
Nevertheless I will continue to be a softly whipped knuckle dragger with each psyop eroding a sense of reality.
Or you can come to terms with how, in all likelihood, you will always entertain yourself.
If you’re condemned to be entertained, at least go all in…