Friday, January 16, 2015

Final Post

What's more to say that I haven't said numerous times on these pages? Thanks to all those who have contributed here over the years. Much appreciated.

Now get off my lawn. Scoot!

UPDATE: I suppose I'll post a link now and again in the recommended reading section. Take care, y'all!

Friday, October 24, 2014

A Quick Shout Out

To those concerned about my welfare, I'm still hanging in there. Surgery is concluded for the time being, I'm back to work and all's right with the world. LOL! Yeah, right. Well, the other stuff is true, anyhow. Here's the deal. The main house behind which I live in my little garage apartment is in the process of being remodeled. Unfortunately, said house is also the source of my internet, and there you go. The good news is that I finally joined this century and bought a smart phone the other day, so at least I can check my mail now (and play Words with Friends, of course). Sorry for any worries my virtual absence has caused. I'm hoping that eventually all will settle back into a semblance of normality, and we can then proceed with Polly Anna's autopsy before our minds and fingers grow too clumsy to handle the scalpel.  Meanwhile, learning to type with my thumbs; what a silly thing for an old man to be doing. :)

Anyway and for the time being, if you play Words with Friends, I'm always.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014


Since we never know when that bullet with our name on it will finally get around to looking up our address to come knocking, I'd like to take this occasion to say thanks to friends and foes alike. To those who have walked with me, just for the companionship. To those who have picked me up when I've fallen, for none of us stand truly alone. To those who have pushed me down, because thick skin helps hold the guts in. To those who have listened, for what is a drama queen without an audience? To those who have turned their backs and closed their ears, because I am guilty to the core. To everyone, everywhere, since I realize that I'm the subjective center of existence that resides in the heart of each sentient being, objects of my attention. Etc., etc.

Awareness my boon and bane, attentiveness my staff, informed sympathy my goal, time my waste and waster, death my friend, enemy and constant companion, pain my schoolmaster, and of course sleep, which seems to be the whole point in the long run. If I had to do it all over again I'd change so many things, and yet I'd wind up in the same place at the end, as do all of us. 'To sleep, to dream...' ah, but there's the rub in search of a subject, for the sleeper has left the building, and the dreams are left holding the bag. Fitting.

I'm Scared

How to begin, to summarize a life that's nearing the end of it's sixth decade but feels as though in some ways it's barely started? To communicate in some palpable way my feelings about my own life, about my hopes and fears, successes and mistakes, about the world I was brought into unawares and without consent and into which I subsequently delivered the two lives I care most about? I'll try now.

I've never felt quite at home in this world. I wonder, is this true of everyone? It's a tempting assumption to make, I'll admit. Contrary to popular opinion, I'm really not comfortable with being the odd man out all of the time. I guess you might say that fate had other plans, but part of me still wants to believe, needs to believe, that I'm not the absolute freak of nature I'm sometimes made out to be by those most vociferous in their negative judgments regarding some of the things I've written. Certainly I've met kindred spirits along the path, people who from an early age felt that something is just not right about things. But are we only part of the whining minority, or is there something more substantial to all this, something that resonates in the dark and hidden recesses where we stand aghast at the mire of troubles we find ourselves sinking in? If so, and if we can admit to this truth about ourselves, where do we go from here? If not, then what are we to think of the seemingly universal coping mechanisms revealed in both the religions and philosophies that have been handed down to us through the course of human history, which continue still in both formulation and promulgation today?

I spoke of fears, and yes, I have lots of them. Fears regarding my own life, about my welfare and status as the meat machinery inexorably grinds to a halt. Fears about how my death will affect my children. Fears about my children's eventual deaths, especially as to the ways and means regarding that diabolical process of decay that lies sleeping in the very core of the universe, and so by extension in each of us. All of us. Every single one of us. I fear for the numbers, for the countless tragedies yet to unfold, to become, to foist themselves upon the slumbering billions yet to be born, not to mention those who already are, some of whom I care about more than anything else imaginable.

The song says, 'Mistakes, I made a few', and yes, I've made many of them as I've limped my way along this path towards the dying sun. Who hasn't? Of late I've learned to forgive myself, somewhat, making my attempt to embrace the realization that we are not our own masters, but puppets dangling from the fingers of a dying demiurge who got hit by a bus while out on a lark, with us as the result- the crystallized death gasps of an oblivious universe that should never have left home.

But here we are, and how to deal with it? I have written previously that 'hope is my enemy', and I stand by that, but only to the degree that hope is defined as synonymous with the belief that, someday, somebody's going to pull that plum out of the sky and change the basic ordering of existence- in a positive direction, naturally. Not to mention the moral and logical justifications necessary to make all that led up to the aforementioned plum-pulling worthwhile. But I can hope that a few voices might raise themselves above the cacophony of denial and self-congratulation ostensibly permeating the memetic aether, injecting their small but potent virus of hard-won clarity into the soft spots of empathetic awareness that I STILL believe exist in most people, even though in some cases the angle of entry must be precisely calibrated. That's why I take the 'big umbrella' approach to all this shit, and don't get overly annoyed by philosophical allies who aren't in lockstep with my own personal conclusions and approaches. In matters of communication- especially in terms of the big existential questions- I'm definitely a 'more voices is merrier' kind of guy. Different strokes for different folks, y'know, and aren't all facets of a conversation worth exploring? I think so.

Now I'm getting old, and I'm dying. Maybe not today, or this year, but soon enough to start thinking about duties. For all I have left now is a sense of duty, to do right by the people I love, as well as to the people whom I represent in my argumentation. I've also come to the realization that I have a duty to myself, a duty to do and say what is right according to my own understanding and standards. It's hard, especially in these, my last days (how many days are actually left is still to be seen), for I am slowly fading like a print on old wallpaper (I picture a white tulip against a pastel pink background for those keeping score). Old age is for keeps, brothers and sisters, and more often than not it isn't a lot of fun. Keep this in mind, breeders, for dissolution and death is the fate of all those newborns you're so fond of coddling and cooing at and showing off at family gatherings. Every life is like a dandelion in the wind- only with nerve endings, and remorse, and fear, and a knowledge often buried deep down inside that being created was the biggest mistake of their lives.

Funny, I started this with a mind toward sentimentalism prompted by yet ANOTHER personal health issue that MIGHT just be the end of me, and maybe I accomplished that somewhat but...somewhere along the way I remembered that the message is far more important than the messenger, I guess. Don't have kids, folks. It's wrong, and you know it.

Sunday, May 25, 2014

80% of People Quietly Despise Their Lives

Commentary to follow.

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Just Some Announcements

The reprint of my book 'Confessions of an Antinatalist' is on the shelves, and here's the link:

Also, Matt Forney did a nice treatment on my book and the general subject of antinatalism on his podcast here:

There's a new AN blog in town:

Hm, what else? There's an expanded version of the book in the works due out some time next year. Doing my best to make it worth the reader's while. Oh, I'll also have some book reviews up soon (working on 3 at once).

Season 1 of the show 'True Detective' has come and gone, and if I ever manage to watch the thing I'll probably have some comments to make.

I'm probably forgetting something, but I guess this'll do for now. Take care, folks!

Friday, April 4, 2014

Night Falls For Each of Us

But when it falls for all of us,
who'll be left to mourn?
The stars will be set free from their constellations.
The moon will breathe a sigh of relief,
and return to its state of modesty.
The sun will rise unanticipated,
and not be held accountable for anything at all.

Best of all, hell will finally freeze over,
while heaven waits...forever.