I thought I’d missed the mark there, for a second. Many now sense that the game is rigged. Half-wittedness does a sound job of making them express it poorly but they’ve really had enough. For a long time the whole setup’s been teetering on the brink – so I say. Admittedly I’ve been parched for action, eager for disaster. But now it’s around the corner don’t you think. A life in Chinese Yen, complete with apps tracking social points. A sparkling new reserve currency. Gook cashwads under your tax-fraud cot. No more dollars. They’re going orange and dumb way too fast over there for any of it to last, even with the blank check we handed them when they made the first Republic. I thought I’d missed the mark: all this talk of 68’ made me sick to my guts. Back then everyone was involved, riding crest or trough. They held my grandad down and shaved his head on the curb like the cows who fucked Nazis. Other grandad played ball with the protestors. They rearranged the letters on a factory front to read “Liberté”. Anyway, they were there – I wasn’t.
Don’t you think it’s colourful, the riots and all? Or would you stick to tri-daily handjobs and flashing 20-second Youtube shorts? I tell you, rotten-toothed racists or not, I’d rather something made this dumpster a little less drab. Tired of being numbed and taken for a ride. Deep-state this and that and you stay in your room jacking it silly. That’s enough.
I found out how finance works recently. It’s a bit like the modern art farce except the squares and triangles are a big pack of jargon sludge. Either way it makes the plebs feel ignorant so the insiders can circle-wank. The bank system is fake but I’m not teaching you anything. The banks are getting replaced now by something called venture capital. Big money pools full of the rich’s riches pumped by other rich grifters into the startup rich. It’s enough to make you curl up and die in your own retch. Soon it’s gonna burst, that new bubble, and people will suffer from it. No one will even know it’s happened. Scam sophistication made sure of that. You see there’s no 2008s anymore, let alone a proletariat. The suffering’s so well-worked we take it for pleasure.
We all know this, deep down, I would think. We may feel we’ve missed the mark. We’re right in a way because there is no mark at all and the old blowouts were big distractions too. But they got a man going, heaven’s sake, grew a little hair round your dugs.
Onto beer now. Beer beer beer. I’m in Vienna where the streets are wide and sterile like microplastic ballsacks. I smoked weed for years, but I stopped ‘cause I was scared to miss the revolution with all the Robinson types burning asylum hotels. Now I’m in Austria missing it anyway. Will stick to booze though. Class As on occasion when really very bored.
All said, fiction comes from the back of the head. Mine’s turning to mush – soup. There isn’t a back and front. Big pool of bloody refuse. The booze and weed had something to do with it but it’s mainly this trite little town. Last night, I was at the oldest diplomatic academy on this grinding orb. I spoke to people who complained about the Arabs. They complained about the Arabs a lot. Didn’t hear a word of Austrian in town, they said. Weren’t you on the wrong side of history? You’d hear the same soup in a back-alley Mile End boozer. Somehow even those crackpot baldies with shin tats are more captivating. At least their drivel comes from pain.
The worst kind of solidarity is the generational. Me, I feel generational spite. Maybe I’ll complain too when older. Will my kids be worthy of the homosapiens title? I think soon we’ll be spawning monkey yobs. I mean that literally – don’t do racial slurs. The internet got us closer to mother nature with all its fucking animals. Everyone’s shrieking and writhing like a dying insect. Tinpot hatred and clan warfare; place is like a booby-trapped jungle. Me, I’m a self-involved, world-class hater, because I’ve missed the mark. I don’t know how you put up with it.
