Gotta raise some hell, ‘fore they take you down
Gotta live this life
Gotta look this world in the eye
Gotta live this life until you die
No one said anything about life being easy unless they were trying to get something out of you. The merchants and indoctrinators and kings. They all want a piece of your minute wealth. They want to suck you dry until you are nothing, so they can move on to the next sucker.
The life you have is the only one. If you’re atheist or agnostic, its obvious. If you’re God fearing, like me, its still the only one. You’ve got one chance to tell God or whomever that “I did the best I could and never quit.” Most people can never have the courage. Most people are scared. Statues of cowardice pointing towards easy ways and easy lives, never experiencing, ever seeing the beauty of whats around them. I hate these cowards. I hate them all.
I started my old blog, HarmonicaFTW, under the banner of anarchy. I was angry and lonely and hurt. Over a year later, that little boy was right. Politics don’t matter. People don’t matter. You’re on your own.
And, if you take away all the illusions, you are. In the end, in our modern, information civilization, you’re alone. Totally. People are stuck within their own little worlds. Everyday, you’ll be ignored for a text message, a Facebook update, a tweet, or any number of things. Your politeness, or just even your want to connect with someone new, will be shut down because somebody’s old high school classmate decided to say hello. Not a word can be said that could break away the addicted from the social drug.
We who take the Red Pill are social pirates. The ones who sail outside the waters of normal discourse. When protests about rape, abortion or healthcare rear their head, we don’t care. We are pillaging the undefended leftovers of civilization’s great debates. Sailing between Left and Right, making our shore anything but the beaches of the “real” world. We have our own islands, full of truth, full of what is, unencumbered by the weights of the sheep and their sheppards.
Some of us, we try, we do what is needed, what is said, to make it, and we collapse and fail like roofs during tornadoes. When the winds pick up, our facades collapse and we crumble. It won’t work, comrades. You simply can’t fake what you think these women, these people want. You have to fight your way through every inch of bullshit, vaginal discharge and hamster thought. Its a war, never ending, for the soul of men. If it wasn’t for the power of our sex, we wouldn’t be attacked so and made to conform, or made to follow, or made to submit. If we were truly equal, feminism wouldn’t need to be. But we aren’t. Men make the world. Men are the world. We are power incarnate. Everything after that is an attempt to make you worry that’s a bad thing.
Tonight, I went in with a song in my heart, a smoke on my lips and the courage of a thousand lowly men cheering me on. A 9 sat beside me, her ugly ass mom talking to friends. She kept checking the exits, as if someone was to appear, or she wanted to leave. I opened after a few minutes, “Looking for the exit.” A statement, not a question. She smiles. Beautiful smile, and goes right to her phone. Not a peep, as her mother brags about flashing an AC/DC cover band.
This is our world. Upside down. We fight against gravity, hoping one in one thousand to fall into our waiting laps.
Its a fight. Its a war.
Its our life, and we can never quit, because its our life.
This life. War until we die.
Making sure our lives, to dust or to Heaven, mean something. That we can die happily, no matter what age. 26 or 96.
I’ve been across the US and Canada 4 times. I’ve fucked whores and been in love. I’ve lived in my dream state and been through Hell. I’ve lived. I could die right now, and despite my low notch count and my failures tonight, I’ll walk before the Gates and say, “I lived.”