Cynicism as a product

I wonder if I could cynically pedal my most cynical and bitter observations as an antidote to corporate indoctrination to the young people of today.

It worked for George Carlin, after all. He spoke the hard and bitter truth to people and now he’s a saint to the young and idealistic.

Especially now that he’s dead, and can’t fuck up his legacy by turning anti-trans.

That would have been a bitter betrayal of his 70’s roots.

And maybe I could take his place as the bitter, angry guy who speaks truths that people don’t want to hear but need to hear. Truths that both set you free and piss you off. Truths that only a Gen X guru like me can discern and then share with those of later generations who are too idealistic and/or indoctrinated to see.

Because it’s occurred to me that the later generations did not have the benefit of Generation X’s thick layers of sales resistance and carefully cultured precision apathy to protect them from all the hypnotic noise the corporate media produces.

I think I could be, as Scott Adams used to say, a “ray of bitter sunshine” to them.

I could speak unto them about our delusions of democracy, the coming environmental apocalypse, the idea that nobody who is employed is truly free, the people who own you and are perfectly willing to sacrifice you for their profit, the futility of modern education, and lots of other dark, harsh things.

All true, and a clarion call to get pissed off and demand change.

Yeah, I could do that.

I wouldn’t want to get trapped in an angry persona. But I suppose I could do it if the money was good.

I’d love to get on that ever so profitable public speaking circuit. Get paid to come and talk to rooms full of people who paid to hear you in person.

I would enjoy that very much.

I will think about it.


The strangest feeling just washed over me.

It felt like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my head and now I feel bizarrely cold and disjointed.

Honestly, I should probably quit typing and go lay down.

But not before I make my words.

The coldness is only on the surface. Only my skin feels cold. The rest of me is as hot as ever. And that is pretty weird too.

Plus I have a nauseous headache. Hopefully that’s just sinus pressure and cleaning out my ears will help with that.

As for the rest of it, though, I dunno. It doesn’t fit the profile of any kind of attack I am aware of, although I suppose it could be some sort of circulatory issue.

One that interferes with the blood reaching my skin alone

That doesn’t sound right, does it?

Could be neurological too. Though it seems too widespread for that. It’s not like there’s one nerve bundle that goes through all your skin.

I wonder where the tactile nexus for the brain is?

Regardless of cause, I feel unwell. And I was feeling pretty good up until that point. Now I am both nauseous and falling asleep, which is a bad combination.

Good thing I never sleep on my back. Nobody wants to die from aspirated vomit.

I will probably be just fine. None of this is new to me except its sudden onset. Well, and the weird chill that came with it.


Just had to make a run to the bathroom. Emphasis on had to. Apparently the contents of my lower intestines got liquified somehow.

I don’t fucking know WTF. I rarely do. All I can do is lay down and possibly take a nap and hope whatever this is passes through and out of me soon.

Maybe when I wake up, I will tell you all how therapy went today.

Why is my life like this?

More after the break.


Therapy post mortem

Well, post session, anyhow.

I’m pretty sure I’m not dead.

Today’s session went quite well. I was in a pretty good mood and I managed to spool out quite a bit of what my brain has been up to lately.

I told him about realizing that I have been helplessly crouched down with my back to the world silently waiting for the nightmare to end for my whole life.

Ever since that was my escape from the world when I was being raped at the age of 4.

And that’s been my response to stress ever since then. At the slightest hint of something I don’t feel like I can handle, I turtle up and withdraw from reality and keep withdrawing until I’m not scared any more, basically.

Hence my being so deeply withdrawn from reality. Ever time I feel overwhelmed I go deeper in, and I only come back very, very slowly and cautiously.

Don’t stop me if you’ve heard this before, but that’s no way to live.

Talking about this has me quite verklempt. That’s a good sign.

I also told him, in very general terms, about how I went back on VRchat recently and made an attempt to socialize.

It’s so much harder in realtime voice. In text, I don’t have to fight to be heard and I can always get everything out because nobody can interrupt me.

I had actually forgotten the feeling of being small and ignored and powerless that I used to feel at the dinner table when I was a kid.

But I will return to the chat, this time after taking a Xanax to make my social anxiety more manageable so I can get me some sweet, sweet positive human interaction.

While pretending to be some kind of furry critter.

I was a super adorable otter with glasses for a while then, after forgetting how I found Mister Otta, I eventually found a very cute cartoon grey wolf form.

Once I figure out more of how everything works, I will go looking for a fox avatar.

Overall it was a pretty good social exposure exercise. I am glad I did it. I had some fun even if I could not really get into any of the conversations.

I am confident that I will get there. I’m a bright, funny, charming, charismatic dude when I can get out of my own way.

And when in doubt, I just need to remember that I am Fruvous and he is me.

And we are fabulous.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

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