Monster

Monster

I was listening to this at work. Pleasantly surprised that this isn’t a retreat to the same things they’ve discussed the last three times they have met.

There is a segment on stoicism at around around 1:43:32, where Peterson shares an anecdote about Søren Kierkegaard:

He was’t one of these people who was capable of inventing something wonderful to make life easier for everyone, like so many people were doing, you know, during the industrial revolution. So he said, “Maybe I’m one of these people, whose benefit to society will be that I will make things more difficult for everyone, because there will come a time when what people want… not… they don’t want ease, they want difficulty instead.”

And I think, that is what people want… that is what they want. You think “Well I want an easy happy life-“… well, no! Actually, that isn’t what you want.

(Joe interrupts)

… [they] want an optimal challenge.

 
This philosophy, of making suffering have worth, has drawn me (and several other men) to Peterson, who espouses masculinity, discipline and autonomy in a time when people are crying over manufactured outrage and looking for an easy way out.

Peterson’s lack of definition of postmodernism (ha! the irony) still bothers me, but man, am I glad to have this man tell me to shut the fuck up and get to work.

And Joe gets a nice little quote in here too:

Would you rather be a warrior in a garden or a gardener in war?

Oh, the moon came really close, turned blood red and underwent an eclipse last night.

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Diamond Eyes

The people I work with talk about “work-smart”
As opposed to “book-smart”
(They suggest a standard operating procedure)

I have always loved literature.
I love looking for patterns.
Ironies, character growth, reversals.

I am really good at spotting them.
Even within me.
“A gift for seeing the small things”

They are common in the real world.

“Real world”.
Another one that gets tossed around.
They don’t know why I am always smirking.
They think I am laughing at them.

In truth, it’s hard not to laugh at anything anymore.

¿sʎɐp ǝsǝɥʇ sɐzuɐʇs uᴉ ƃuᴉʇᴉɹʍ I ɯɐ ʎɥM

Sister!

I held you.
You fell asleep,
smiling.

Your sister does not look me in the face.
She rests her head against my arm.
She’s holding up her father’s phone.
She’s watching a cartoon.

There was a prayer for you.
Only women.
Then they called me.
You heard your name for the first time, from my lips.

It’s a strange position.

The new generation is already here,
before I can even make sense of my own life.

Your Old Man’s Back Again

Sister!
I did not know you for long.
You departed shortly after you’d arrived.

Our mother wishes you were with us.

Fate has bestowed upon our family another chance at communion.
You have returned to us, bearing the same hair and name, the same aloof nature.

I feel like I have to protect you. I can see why our mother dotes after you so much.

You have taken her back to her early maternal days- when her children still showed her gratitude.

Tomorrow, I will sit in as your sister’s uncle, for her namakaran.
We haven’t met. I just got the call today.

And for the same goddess. Coincidence?

None of this has been coincidental.
Too many variables lined up to lead to this strange, specific outcome.

I know what I need to do.

Empty

 

I can never be normal.

I will watch you all talk about the simple things like food and football.

I will watch the lofty talk about big ideas in their little cubicles.

Never in the right place, at the right time, or doing the right thing.

I was promised greatness.

I want to give truth to that prophecy.

I really do.