|This made me laugh so hard.|
Man after my own heart.
Lately I have been thinking about identity. I have been reflecting about the things I identify with and also trying to understand the way others identify with their respective "scenes" and the contradictions within those scenes. For example, I consider myself a misanthrope which by definition means that I probably shouldn't identify with any groups whatsoever and yet I do so from time to time. But even the fact that I affiliate myself with a group of people who hate humanity and that the definition of such a group has been developed and refined by wiser people than I over several centuries seems like a laughable contradiction. Basically I relate to people who hate people, which shouldn't make sense and yet it works. But I have found misanthropy and hatred to be wonderful forms of seclusion that help to divorce myself from the distraction of vapid people. Whereby from the cleansing ashes of my volcanic hatred a vast clearing is made for fertile soil where I can let my love germinate and the roots of that love can grow deep into the crust of prosperity. I most certainly love fewer people, but I find that I love them fully and more genuine than most. The point I am making is that don't try to talk yourself out of hating someone if you do, and focus on loving the few people you do love. As always though, I am a shit shingle clinging to the roof tar of a desolate domicile abandoned long ago when people had perspective and character.
|"After coming into contact with a religious man|
I always feel I must wash my hands"
"Cool in the waterway, where the baptized drown."