Spectacular, really.
Maybe I'll have something constructive to add tomorrow. Surely, it won't be as insightful or as well-crafted as anything linked-to above. And no, I'm not feeling sorry for myself.
For now, I'll just say, more easily expressed now since reading the above: Most of the bitching I do here, whether it's about music or politics or whatever else, is simply because I am sick of being told that (my) life has no meaning. And so exuberantly.
And you could say, well, why are you letting other people define meaning in your life? Well. I don't. I still buy records and fuck around with my music equipment and read and write. Towards what end besides my own pleasure? Apparently, now, that's the only end there is. And if life is all about that particular end, I get just as much pleasure from ordering pizza and watching action films. I just keep thinking that there has to be some better use for my time. Why?
I don't know. This can't be it.
(By the way. Yes. I start too many sentences with conjunctions. And there are fragments (like this one). It's just bad style. My English teachers did teach me better than to write as I do.)
And you could say, well, why are you letting other people define meaning in your life? Well. I don't. I still buy records and fuck around with my music equipment and read and write. Towards what end besides my own pleasure? Apparently, now, that's the only end there is. And if life is all about that particular end, I get just as much pleasure from ordering pizza and watching action films. I just keep thinking that there has to be some better use for my time. Why?
I don't know. This can't be it.
(By the way. Yes. I start too many sentences with conjunctions. And there are fragments (like this one). It's just bad style. My English teachers did teach me better than to write as I do.)
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