Social WR Lounge v261: Opium-Free Heroin, for those trying to quit but still wanna shoot up!

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@Trotsky, here's M. Bruenig of all people (from 2013) on what I call True Progressives (and he calls futile leftists):

https://mattbruenig.com/2013/04/29/the-death-spiral-of-futile-leftism/

I recommend the whole thing, but here's the intro:

The left-left side of the blogosphere is chattering about lefter-than-thou sniping that is apparently aimed at people associated with the Jacobin. For readers who don’t pay attention to that stuff, Jacobin magazine is a socialist magazine that is popular. The lefter-than-thou crowd is comprised of people who do everything they can to throw bombs at left-wing projects that are successful. The goal of the bomb-throwing, it appears, is not to actually achieve anything substantive; rather, it is to make damn sure everyone knows they are different from them, those leftists who aren’t the real leftists like they are.

I’ve written about the left purity cult before. From what I have seen, there is a non-trivial number of people for whom leftism is nothing but a personal affectation, a substitute for a personality, a way to get personal meaning, and so on. Me, me, me, me. This is especially true among the rich kid protester types. Their politics is one of personal self-actualization. They want to Do the Right Thing for themselves and make sure they are fighting the good fight. Just doing something that is nominally fighting, even if it lacks strategy or any theory of change, is enough because it means they are on the right side and their complicity with The Bad is extinguished. This purity ritual is as fun for them as it is useless for the actually suffering.

But the effect of this futile leftism is bigger than one might imagine. I suspect that futile leftism generates its own vicious feedback loop that generates yet more futile leftism. The problem is simple: there are people interested in masturbatory purity rituals and people interested in winning. When the left is dominantly in the clutches of the purity cultists, the competent have no interest in it.
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Gregolian said:
The whole concept of shaming folks over body count in general is stupid unless you're having real risky sex. I've just never understood it.
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Everybody wants a freak that eats booty but somehow has a single digit body count.

I want the broad with the triple digit body count, you KNOW she knows what she's doing.

<{spoogebab}>
 
Falsedawn said:
Everybody wants a freak that eats booty but somehow has a single digit body count.

I want the broad with the triple digit body count, you KNOW she knows what she's doing.

<{spoogebab}>
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Truth.

I don't want her to keep ADDING to the body count if I'm dating her though to be fair.
 
tonni said:
Walter White is such a dorky lameass.
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AgonyandIrony said:
Man, I'm having an odd day. I took the day off, couldn't sleep a wink last night. I've been struggling mightily with sleep and all those 12 hour a day shifts back to back to back and my days off I do absolutely nothing.

Homie called me and had clearly been crying, his two girlfriends he lives with, there seems to be some trouble in paradise and they needed money. I'm not good at comforting people at all, I dwell in the beauty of what most find negative, but it was a good hang, I got a PC and I'm back. Click clacking away with a lovely sad tune in my ear.

Does anyone else find when something trivial is missing from their life that they kind of shut down? I assume not, the majority of y'all are far more put together than I. I'm envious and it seems so alien how so many of y'all are good normal people, it's nice to read. To imagine of life of doing things normally and not just out of necessity. To wake up, make breakfast, check your emails, get in the truck you're making payments on, answering your families phone calls, going to work and just working, going home with a dinner planned, a tv show in mind, one beer and not a pint of whiskey, laundry when it needs done, bills paid when due, healthy friendships. So peculiar from the outside when you struggle to sleep and you struggle to wake up. I'm curious of what that means.

Granted, I doubt any of y'all could thrive in this neighborhood, with murderous hookers and Chewbacca's around every corner... but the grass is always greener I suppose. When you spend your life stumbling the path less paved feels like home.

I talk to a psychiatrist Thursday if I can wake up for it, I'm excited. I've never really been on any sort of medication that wasn't prescribed by a homie. I don't know what it does. The one thing I'm most curious to know about myself is about why I enjoy cocaine when I do it. I always want to do something when I touch that China, start something, write something, be something. Feel something. Liquor too, those two things (and bless them when they're combined) I could write you a periodic table of the elements of self destruction. I would very much like to be normal. To make my bed and waffles in the morning, to call my family and check on them every day, to do things again. I worry a bit that it's over for me in a way, not that I'm suicidal or anything, just at this point I don't think I can go back to going places, or making plans, or applying to a class, or doing anything that's not what's in front of me, my pages will remain unfinished, and I'll spend every day in a form of alcohol induced stasis. My favorite bird is the crow, which is ironic, at 32 crows have been sinking their feet into the sides of my eyes and underneath those eyes I'm starting to carry more bags than Floyd Mayweather's entourage. I'm not suicidal anymore, and that slightly worries me, as I'm not happier or normal. when I used to put a gun in my mouth, that took courage, and there was a brutal release when I couldn't pull the trigger. I worry that perhaps deep down I didn't need a gun to kill myself, and that all of our caskets lower day by day, and I'm riding to my funeral on a white horse with a blunt and a bottle. To watch Evan Williams, John Jameson, Well Tequila, Self Doubt, Childhood Trauma, and Inaction be the six pallbearers carrying the cheapest casket my meager Estate Sale offered.

I realize how very obnoxious I am on this forum and how horrid it must be to drag through my long ass dumb posts, but this is truly the only place I can open up. When I usually open up to anyone, the way I've opened up to y'all for over a decade, I immediately ghost. I really hope I can afford therapy and medication. I'm tired of aging at a bus stop with ever changing faces, until that black bus rides up to take me to the eternal beyond, often early and for my grandfather cruelly late, but rain or shine, it seems like all I do is check my watch and talk about the weather.

I'm curious what y'all think of this song. I was taken aback when I first hard it, his voice so haunted. The acoustic with a touch of static and the way the violin just seeps into the song so effortlessly you barely even know it and the way it swells with his voice and pulls back and the song ends with just the acoustic guitar, the same way it starts. Gorgeous. Folk really has grown ever so much into something so beautiful.
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I loved this post brother. I'm glad. you're going to talk to somebody on Thursday. Lots of "normal" people with "normal" lives go through what you're going through. Maybe not to your extremes, but they do. I'm not saying that to diminish you angst, only to let you know you're not alone. You're also young. You've got 60 years (ish) to get it right (and by right I mean whatever that definition evolves into for you). I think you have a lot of writing in your future. I read your stories and they remind me of David Sedaris, but with teeth.
 
Trotsky said:
Why?

I'm genuinely ignorant about why that would be bat. FYI, I'm a cigarette smoker, enjoy the occasional cigar, but hate weed.
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Gross. Start a program or get on Chantix. You can't advocate for vaccines then light up a cancer stick and be taken seriously.
Do you smoke in the house? Car?
 
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