Anonymous

Diary
2002-02-02 04:21:50 (UTC)

A narrative history of banality

I am on this fabulous thing known as the debate team.
Debate is such a meaningless activity, but it's one of the
few things that nerds like me, and possibly you, can excell
at. For one, it's competition, and a nerd always comes out
winning--one of the few situations like life where this
phenomena occurs. Anyway, I love debate people. They are
the salt of the earth. I love smoking hash, listening to
jazz, and discussing philosophy, as pompous as humanly
possible. It's so disturbing for me to think that I
contribute to the social stereotype of the average
intellectual fuckface, especially since intellectuals are
so...I don't know...stupid. For instance, last year, I
plowed my way through this completely unintelligible book
called a Framework for the Fundamentals of Morals by
Immanuel Kant, just so that I could discuss the Categorical
Imperative with people while toking up with other
intellectual fuckfaces. I guess this is the poignant irony
of society--people search for originality and meaning only
to find themselves lost in a puddle of lose-lose
situations. I either stay an intellectual fuckface, listen
to more Miles Davis high as hell, and only associate with
people who wear Lisa Loeb glasses and Free Tibet t-shirts
that they bought at low key, hard to find punk rock stores
run by vegans who used to know Lou Reed back in the day
(How many social stereotypes did I just list back there?
Isn't this sad, that there are actually people who exist
who fit every single one of them?) or I can buy a pair of
fatigued Mariah Carey jeans (as showcased on that one video
where she prances around almost naked and beats herself up
in the bathroom), ice myself up, and listen to Jay-Z (yet
another social stereotype that, sadly, people fit). I
myself am a walking cultural norm. This is sad. And yet,
I can't lose this. I can't break out of this, and maybe I
don't want to. It's easy being a follower. It's easy just
accepting things as the way they are, approximating a
personality for myself because making my own is just too
damned hard. You know, perhaps there isn't anything wrong
with this world; perhaps there isn't anything wrong with me
for fitting into the underground world of counterculture.
I read Mojo. I listen to Modest Mouse. I'm a snotty
elitist. I look down on people who listen to popular
music. I look down on people who don't read Proust, don't
know coffee, and have never seen an Andy Warhol movie.
This is soooo sad. How the hell did I ever turn out to be
such a jackass?? Someone should seriously slap me. All
those who watch TRL...please be my friend?




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