Hello friends. Recently I decided to not have any computer sounds. In addition, greyscale only.
You’d be surprised how easy it is to continue without any audio. If you want to watch any YouTube videos, the captions are good enough. In addition, the greyscale makes it charming in its own way.
Of course, seeing as I no longer hear anything it is starting to stir some strange emotions. It seems we’re quite spoiled by video, in this sense. Whether it numbs or at least staves stimulation you could get from someone else.
I started reading Notes from the Underground from where I left off however long ago since I am the same character except instead of a journal it’s this website.
One chapter weighed the difference between 2 + 2 = 4 and 2 + 2 = 5 – that it’s quite excellent sometimes when it does indeed add up to five.
And why wouldn’t it be? Perhaps this generation knows more than anyone else the rational life. Instead of typing here, it’d be more rational to get a workout in, and then do some more work and studying, and then start another business, and make a good community with a happy family: surely this is the rational.
And yet of course so I agree as the book wrote, that in each man they act entirely against their own interests because 2 + 2 = 5 is excellent too. That there’s something redeeming about falling onto the bathroom counter. That there’s something redeeming in this uselessness, which, if for a moment, you could appreciate before sweltering about how it isn’t good at all; same as it ever was.
I bet if you read a lot of books you could probably have a whole lot to talk about. But talking a lot rarely accomplishes anything. Maybe you think, eventually, someday you’d be forced in a situation where you did have to speak, and how a comfort it’ll be then to dodge every question with an allusion, double up with a, “Ah, this reminds me of one novel…” assured there’s nothing more from you other than a transmission from men smarter than you.
Well, I guess the messenger and the sender(s) could be slightly stupid, what’s smart about writing or reading miserable novels? The happy author is a rarity; the happy reader is a gemstone missing. Nevertheless when I do think about having to endure conversations again so help me God it’s best about a novel supplementing any sort of experiences the usual would ever want to crave. All experiences render themselves as amusement park rides, and the elderly leave the lot dejectly, before realizing the other twenty years in this allusion is the trek back to the car and home with the smelly recliner waiting.
The other day I stumbled upon a website that looked just like mine and my eyes just glazed over it. Why not? Again, most people are only interested in the immediate; who’d fan through years of nonsense exactly? But I write here to spite all of that anyway. Spite is a clever tool for resourceless people: tap into it whenever you want because it’ll surely get the job done.
Lately I’ve been thinking about this well, knowing its contours and sinews to swallow: how would one fashion a ladder out of this place? I think it requires some sort of evidence that all the years prior weren’t in vain. Some sort of medal you could bite on and wink and nudge about if you ever had to be prodded.
To this end, it seems one shall stay in the underground until there’s a medal to shine light upon. And yet even with those medals I’d rather toss them into any volcano – living in the underground is sickly and spiteful but it’s most agreeable when you realize the amount of effort it takes to live above.
Even though I can no longer listen to music while writing so it seems to have no effect. One can always smush together something – whether that something is worth reading is, of course, inconsequential to a paper with no quarters to spare.
So far in this silence so the muscles unfold: when you can only hear the keyboard, fan, and ruffling in the kitchen well you could consider it a dear break. It is unintuitively relaxing, even though I’m flipping through many websites seeking the same. But the grayscale helps in finding it all boring too.
See, the thing is, a lot of things are boring. Almost everything can be, the usual way to pass the day. When you understand the hat trick then there’s nothing more to wear.
Perhaps I shall up the ante. Perhaps this shall be my last post for a good while. Perhaps I’ll be something better when I return; perhaps it’s more entertaining to watch someone’s downfall.