Saturday, June 25, 2016

Well, I guess this isn't getting your dick sucked....

Sour grapes.  The puckering.   The way the bitter fruits taste.  The thinking that runs foul with hindsight.

I'm embittered because my career bites the big one.   Any wide banded existentialist should agree I have an inalienable right to blame it on other people.  The fact that I met people proves grounds for animosity.  Imagine what a fat prick Jean Paul Sartre would have been if he couldn't land a book deal.  I want one, and no one is helping me find an agent.  I need one, bad.

To know (know, know) certain people is to muster animosity (animosity, animosity, like in Phil Spector's tune "To Know Her Is To Love Her."  But it doesn't rhyme.)  The social process is bullshit.  People are pernicious toxic waste.  

Remember that garbage about business and professional networking?   Forget it.  Everything here is done by political quid pro quo.  You can be as charming as a dancing gazelle, but the dope addled narcissistic rhinoceros gets the brass ring.   The plumb work.   As a favor to his/her coke addicted magisterial royalty father/mother/gay legal guardian.    Tis true.  If you give a deviant piece of shit a high paying job, he/she/it will take on greater influence in society.   And he/she/it is in a social class above you.  And you just aren't one of he/she/it's kind of people.

It takes other people to keep others down.   We are a balsa wood airplane with rubber band propeller.  Always aimed at the shit can.  


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