I'm deep in theory. What a magical time. I am about half way through Mythologies by Roland Barthes. Then, I have The Medium is the Massage by McLuhan, Elements of Semiology by Barthes, and Society of the Spectacle by Debord up next but no one gives a shit.
That is really what this blog post is about. How no one gives a shit. Being an autodidact is a very solitary pursuit by definition. I joined a philosophy channel on Discord and they don't really give a shit either. It's mostly analytic academics. I don't fit in. The server is too active. Reddit has nothing for me besides the occasional Google search. I kind of despise Chat GPT but it can be somewhat useful.
My poor mom has to hear earfuls of the stuff I'm reading. At least she says she enjoys it to a point.
I'm just lonely. I went in hard on some Baudrillard. I think up to 2 weeks have flown by. I don't know if I even thought to be lonely then. Mythologies by Barthes is ok. It is a good intro to semiotics. A nice break from the denser and more opaque Baudrillard. Although, Baudrillard fascinates me. He seduces me. He haunts me.
There is no where for the autodidact to go except to touch grass and deal with it. Academia is a pipedream. It has been ever since I did not major in philosophy and chose poker over academics.
And the elephant in the room is that I need a job. I know, I know. I need a job. That is tremendous toil. If I did not have hypertrophy training and theory I would be in real trouble. The toil and the void would be too great.
Overcoming inertia in entropy. In a simulation the only thing left to do is play the game. All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players (Shakespeare).
It is normal for people to have anxiety about death. Libido and fear of death are two massive motivations. Sometimes they are unconcsious motivations. Marketers mess with our ability to know what we need and what will be satisfying. They tamper with our imagination as the result of the void. It shows up in weird ways. We fill the void with imagination and consumption. Imagination in the creation of art is good. Imagination in unrealistic expectations for consumption is bad.
I have clothes. I have plenty of clothes. I have an understanding of color theory and can generally dress myself to be passable in society. There is no such thing as authenticity in this regard. Unless maybe if I got my clothes from a small indigenous group of people in South America who custom made me some outfits. Any magazine, any shop, any online store is going to command the title of "purveyor of taste." Personally, I think just wearing white t-shirts and blue jeans everyday is better than falling into the consumption trap. But, in bourgois life there are dress codes...
"He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man."
- Samuel Johnson
A beast with f body dysmorophia. I've been watching IFBB pros train on YouTube. They all have body dysmorphia. They all wear "pump covers" to hide their muscles until they feel they are pumped up enough.
How much is enough? I don't feel the need to get that jacked or that lean. I would like to make gains in the gym, however.
Time is winding down. Time is passing by. What will you do with your time and attention?
I will continue to grind in the gym. I am thinking about 51... 65... 76.
I wish I didn't have to be so clean and sober all the time but between my alcoholism and bipolar it's really fucking stupid to drink or do drugs. I get better gains in the gym though and I am definitely more clear headed. Not clearheaded enough to not post a bunch of bullshit on a website with barely any traffic but it's better than being bombed and that whole cycle. I didn't even post any marijuana pictures or breasts.
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