I’ve been meaning to express my thoughts on this subject for a long time but it was only yesterday that they crystallized into a form I felt I could express.

First : definition. A neckbeard is a male nerd who wears a trenchcoat and a fedora in public, is an angry atheist, lives in his parents’ basement, rarely bathes, is often an “incel” or at least has a lot of anger towards women, is massively intellectually pretentious, and is often drawn into libertarian-like right wing political circles.

That’s just a rough sketch. And this may seem like nothing but a cruel caricature of nerds in general, but trust me, these people exist by the millions.

And that fascinates me because….. how can there be so many people ending up with such a high degree of similarity?

It’s the same question I had when I first met fellow nerds in junior high. How is it that all these people who grew up separately ended up so alike? How is it that if someone is into D&D, they are probably also into video games, heavy metal, and Doctor Who?

We take these things for granted in nerdly circles but really… WTF?

Neckbeards are the same thing in the next generation. It’s the same phenomenon but with the internet being there your entire life.

And it’s not a pretty picture, sadly.

And I am not unsympathetic to these guys. How could I be? We are so alike. So much so that I feel oddly responsible for them. So much so that it almost feels like they are my children. Something my generation created, somehow.

Obviously I’m no angry atheist, Ayn Rand libertarian, or misogynistic incel (for one, I’m gay), but still, I get where all that comes from.

I have felt that incredible frustration that comes from growing up nerdy in a mundane world that treats you like shit, does all it can to destroy your self-worth, defines “undatable and unfuckable” as “people like you”, and is run by people who clearly have no fucking idea what they are doing, thus leaving to subject to the whim of the herd and the “leadership” of idiots.

Trust me guys, I get it.

And while your attitudes and politics and behaviours sadden me, I do not hold myself as superior to you at all.

There but for the grace of God and being a gay furry go I. I feel so bad for straight nerds. They have so much more to deal with than I ever have.

So I suppose, like their metaphorical parent, I love them and care about them despite how badly they turned out and how upset the ways they act make me.

Somehow, we, Generation X, failed these guys miserably.

But the world is rapidly getting better for us geeky folk. Nerd bashing has never been more harshly socially punished, thanks in part to shows like Big Bang Theory. We have a whole generation of people who identify as nerds, rightly or wrongly. Bullying still happens, but society has made it clear it no longer approves.

Trust me, that’s a huge step up.

So maybe the neckbeards are the last generation of post-traumatic nerds like me.

Maybe being a nerd won’t even be a big thing in the future. Maybe we will be able to live as we are, just a group of people with a certain cluster of characteristics in common.

I hope I live to see that.

More after the break.

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The winds of change

I’m not feeling so good right now.

An arctic chill – midnight tundra – is blowing through my soul and making my heart ache like a cramp in a phantom limb. I shiver deep inside and huddle into myself, ironically withdrawing further into myself and away from the light and the warmth of the world.

Yeah, I am wired up all backwards. All my instincts are self-destructive. None of he voices in my head can be trusted. even the ones that seem nice.

The self-loathing runs too deep. I’m out to get me.

Part of me wishes I could just crack my heart open and bleed all over the ice. Smear my filthy and polluted blood all over the blessedly cold surface of my freezing and frozen prison and finally wipe away the gunk and sewage and other nasty stuff from my heart’s tender tissues like a dog “scooting” over a white shag carpet, knowing he’s going to get in huge trouble but not caring because it feels soooo good.

Or maybe I would stick my finger down my soul’s throat and finally regurgitate all the indigestible toxins that clog my intestines and keep my injuries recirculating in my bloodstream to hurt me again and again like a bad case of heavy metal poisoning.

One good flush and they’re gone forever. Wouldn’t that be nice.

Or maybe I could throw myself into the fires of creation so that they might burn all that is impure, unworthy, and weak away, leaving only hard, supple, powerful muscles and bones as hard as the heart of a mountain behind. Then, having been cleansed in holy flame, I could rise anew as the perfected version of myself and face the world with confidence, clarity, and an open heart.

Then I would face the sunrise, and sing :

Child of Earth, humming to the Moon
The notes may change, but they’re always in tune
The Moon will rise, higher than in June
And guide us to our warm beds very soon

Child of Moon, smiling down on me
Fill my eyes, allowing me to see
You stroke the tides, wrinkling the sea
And light the fires hiding in the trees

And when the night is over
And the sun opens its eyes
All the bad things will be banished
By the shine of fresh-washed skies

Child of Sun, sitting by my side
Your heart is pure, so open it up wide
Let the world see the light you try to hide
And reveal the truth : the world abides.

children of the soul

But I can’t crack, or purge, or burn. The real world is alas not that kind. Only the world of image and poetry can be so clean.

So all I can do is the next best thing :

Write weird poetry.

It might not be as dramatic, but it kinda gets the job done. Kinda.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

I