Why I Didn’t Tell You About Jordan Peterson

First of all I’ll tell you something I’ve been hiding from you for really no reason other than the fact that I hate myself, I suppose. The videos that I watched that set me on this new path of honesty were lectures by Jordan Peterson. I have been listening to hours and hours of Jordan Peterson lectures. This is kind of embarassing because it seems like I always find some new guru and buy into everything they say. Eventually I forget about them. I don’t think I’m unique in this way, but I like to think of myself as unique, and it kills me to think that everything I say comes from somewhere else.

It’s also annoying because Peterson is very of the moment right now, especially for 30 year old white males who have wasted their lives. If you read through the comments on his lectures you’ll see them. We’re like a club. Nothing makes you feel more mass produced. It’s like Carl Jung said, “People don’t have ideas, ideas have people.” Where do you think I got that quote? One of Peterson’s podcasts.

Yeah so here I am thinking I have these ideas, but I’m just a groupie. Even the ideas I had before I watched his lectures were held by what appears to be hundreds of thousands of people.

Also, there was an article about how Peterson became a kind of hero to the new right when he took a stand against what they call “social justice warriors”, and I can’t be seen endorsing some kind of right wing asshole after the stands I’ve taken here, namely that heterosexual white males are ruining the world.

So what does it mean? I don’t know. I don’t give a fuck, apparently. I’m drinking coffee on the balcony when I should be doing things and stuff like that. Not giving a fuck is easy to do.


When two guys are walking together and one guy is listening to his headphones near them, those two guys are friends and the other guy is an enemy. When two guys are alone and listening to their headphones and walking down the street near each other, they aren’t enemies or friends. When two guys are alone and listening to their headphones and they attempt to use their metrocards to gain access to the subway and they are both rejected by the same turnstile, they are friends. 

I’ont fuckin’ no!

Like I said, I’ve tried shit like this before. Being nice to people and shit, thinking up back stories for them that explain everything that annoys me about them. Sure, people are annoying as fuck in the real world, but they’re much more annoying in restaurants. That’s ground we already covered. That’s ground we covered twice or three times.

But yeah let’s get off that by starting a new paragraph. Boom! Subject changed, mother fuckers.

Ho damn where we at, it’s a new paragraph. Paragraphs are fences for words. We bout to hop this fence!


Yeah I tried that shit before, sure, but that shit is mentally and emotionally exhaustin’. Making up stories about people, giving people space, thinking about how complex and rich is their inner life. Thinking about that Neil Gaiman quote about people having incomprehensible universes inside of them. Consider all that and be like, you know, let me give these crazy fucks a chance.

The trick isn’t to control their bullshit by figuring them out. Or rather, trying to figure them out, since you don’t know shit about what other people are thinking and you will probably never get close to figuring anyone out, much fucking less someone you don’t even know.

The trick is to be kind to them and to hell with figuring them out. Who gives a shit about them anyway. This is about how you act and, consequently, how you feel. They may not even exist. They can go to the devil!

Fuck em!

But be really nice to them, too. 

Nah, not nice, nice kind of sounds weak. Kindness and niceness, what’s the fuckin’ difference? 

Well for starters, no one ever says, no more Mr. Kind Guy.

Anyways, this is the last day of my work week. No new gray hairs, so this kindness shit is still going well.

Also somehow I fucked up the chronology of my posts when I updated my first kindness post to correct obsequies to obsequious, that’s two different goddamn things.

Sorry if that fucks up your feed.

Savage Green and Yellow

Today, try telling yourself that humanity is a pleasant race. Listen to your happy music. Try forgetting what you thought yesterday and pretend you just got here. Pretend you didn’t wake up this morning and you’re still dreaming. Touch the people you talk to lightly on the arm and smile as if each one is a creation of your own mind; marvel at your  own versatile imagination.

Have fun. I’ll be at work if you need me.

Marc Maron Is Genuinely Likable

(Yes, that is how you spell likable.)

Sun is gone, it’s dark out there, coffee is cold, music is on, and the house is cold cold mother fucking cold. God damn it’s cold always cold in my house.

I started listening to the news and shit today thanks to the babe and my recent lapse in narcissism. Marion Barry died, old mayor of Washington, DC. The self-proclaimed Mayor for Life, his term is finally over. Obama did some ambassador appointing in Myanmar. And something about how to cook turkey. So, just American news really. And I listened to Marc Maron’s WTF podcast while I set up the dining room at the restaurant. Yo that guy is the shit.

Yo, what did I tell you about the links? This blog is hooked into the grid like an unfortunate sea gull in this badass piece by Luke Otley. Fucking A I been using the hooked metaphor like three times in the last five minutes. So what you know about that? Nothing.

Marc Maron had this guy on his show, Rhett Miller, of the band called The Old 97s or something like that and I ain’t even going to link that shit because I couldn’t tell you for sure that I condone this mother fucker one iota but I’ll tell you what I do know, I like that mother fucker. He was talking about living the creative life and how he attempted suicide as a kid because he saw this life of meaninglessness set out before him but then afterwards he realized that making good art (Neil Gaiman reference bitches, link that shit yourself) was what made life worth while. I don’t know he said some other shit that was good. Listen to the podcast, what the fuck are you asking me for?

Plus he was going on about dealing with your family on Thanksgiving and that shit was pretty funny. I never really fucked with Marc Maron in the past, I ain’t even heard about him because I don’t read Great Comic Digest but then I saw him on Louis, that show is awesome, and Louis was like shit man I’m sorry, I been holding a grudge against you for thirty years and it was all my fault to begin with! And Marc Maron is like, bitch I know! You said that last year! Ha!

Yeah look that shit up it’s a lot funnier than all that.

Anyway, so that’s the first time I even heard of this guy. I didn’t even know he was a real comic but I checked him out and was like oh okay and that was the end because I figured he was some crotchety mother fucker based on his knobby ass knees and I ain’t really care to get caught up in the codger business so I left it at that.

But then a while ago I heard the WTF podcast and I thought that shit was alright but I really only half heard that shit. Then a while ago I was on stitcher and I really don’t even know why but I listen latered that shit (ya’ll let me know if you can’t keep up with the stitcher lingo, it’s a millennial/hipster/jackoff thing) and then I in fact did listen to it later and it was hilarious. I mean he just starts the show with some crazy shit. He just says shit off the top of his head and it’s exactly what I was thinking! And he has a different voice than I do, but some of his words line up with mine most notably shit and fuck and of course he is a performing artist who is performing so of course that shit sounds outrageously on point.

Yeah so I like that fucker, Marc Maron. But I only listened to two podcasts so far.

And that’s how I end up doing shit you know? Fucking Carl Sagan, I ain’t hear about him for the longest time and then it took a little bit for me to check him out. Hunter Thompson, I remember I’d seen Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas the movie floating around for years and years before I ever checked that shit out. Now he’s my imaginary god father. And Catch-22, my bible, I heard that shit was hot for a long time and I was always like yeah right. What else? Yeah I don’t know I always got to hear some shit like thirty times, like whatever they say about marketing and shit and exposure, and then on top of that I have to be in the right moment to even check it out. And I’ll make myself think I’m begin all impulsive and shit. Fucking marketers.

Hey man but let’s go ahead and end this shit so I can write my shit ass novel already. Alright, I’ll talk to you later. Say hi to Vickram and Ox for me, yeah I’ll be around that way in November of next whenever the fuck. Cat and the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and the man in the moon. When you coming back son? I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then.

Some Things

Yesterday I went to church with GF’s parents. They are catholics. Then we went to lunch at Bon Chon Chicken. I ate a lot of chicken but exercised admirable restraint. Then we came home and went out with our neighbors upstairs to get some plants for the herb/vegetable garden we are going to grow in the back yard. Then we came home and dug up the plot and turned it all over and got rid of all the green stuff that was in there. It was hard work. Then we went and got some beer and cheese and ate and listened to Ella Fitzgerald and talked about all kinds of interesting things.

Today I started reading Walden, which I’ve had lying around for over a year but never actually started.

I’d rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than be crowded on a velvet cushion.

That’s not an exact quote I don’t think, but that made me laugh. Words can be funny sometimes just when they surprise you. The word pumpkin is just inherently funny. And then someone sitting on a pumpkin is funny, too, I don’t know why, it’s got some kind of fairy tale connections. You can just picture Thoreau sitting on a pumpkin with his arms crossed, or that’s what I did, while there’s a party going on all on top of a velvet cushion.

This post on Rara’s blog reminded me of Hyperbole and a Half and how those drawings really make me laugh. The stories are so funny but the pictures are even funnier. I told GF about the one about depression which I thought was hilarious, but she just thought it was sad because depression is sad. I can’t stop laughing every time I see that shit. “Is this what you wanted to be when you grew up? A sad person holding a fork?” Ha! And “Hey is that a chair? Go fuck yourself!” Ah well it’s just not as funny when you just write what she is saying in the pictures. Those drawings are priceless.

Clean all the things?

Art as Transient as Life

Readability Index: Slightly Readable

Yesterday I met the people from Pretty Things Brewing Project, at least I think that’s their name. They are brewers who don’t have their own brewery. They are doing pretty well. Their beer is pretty good.

While I was sitting in the little class we had I thought, their working so hard to produce something that’s going to be consumed and then gone. This is not an original thought, of course. The same has been said about wine and food and whatever else. Graffiti in a way.

But it really struck me as appropriate for humans to make art that is transient. To make something that can only be enjoyed once. It’s like life.

Smart me. On that note, a lot of blogs I found last night had first posts that said a lot of the things I have said throughout my blog, in pretty much the same way. We are all the same people really, with the same thoughts, all thinking we are original. Someone said, “All I have is my subjectivity.” Because though we all are very much the same, there’s .01 percent of our makeup that differentiates us from everyone else.

It’s good to know that we are all the same, because if you want to know how someone else is feeling, you can pretty much find out by thinking about how you would feel in that situation and you’ll probably be right. Like when you’re at a party and you meet someone, you can just assume that whatever you feel, they feel it too. In the sense that if you’re nervous, they are also nervous. At least, I’d like to think it was that way. But one never knows. And there are people more confident than others. But what is confidence really. Do they feel nervous and cover it up better? I don’t know. I guess we’re all at a loss to deal with other people because we only know ourselves, and it is that universal at a loss-ness that makes us all the same and pretty much on equal footing.

There’s a Polish writer, or there was, named Witold Gombrievicz or something like that. He said, “Everything I see is filtered through a unique Gombrieviczian filter…” or something like that.

Time Marches On

I wasn’t thinking of it when I typed the title but now I’m thinking of “For Whom the Bell Tolls” by Metallica. Awesome song, shit it’s been a long time since I listened to anything by Metallica. I remember taking a survey in school, what’s your favorite band? the popular kid asked me. I was only allowed to listen to Christian Bands, and I knew I couldn’t say any of those, and this was before knowledge of obscure-ass bands was the cold hard currency of coolness. He suggested, Metallica? And of course I said, Hell yeah! And I didn’t hear my first Metallica song for another two years.

But shit, time does march on. I just found a super funny ass blog with a style that I like a lot, from a guy who also like Hunter S Thompson and quoting other people. Shit you can just about find anything in the blogosphere.

I don’t know where my friend Carmen went. Just disappeared all the sudden. Maybe computer problems.

Thanks to the new people liking my shit, I just got ten likes on this bitch! Things are happening around this place. I really don’t even know how. I really don’t. That’s my fucking catchphrase right there, or it might be if I’m not careful, and I’m nothing if not careful. Damn I wish I tried to be funny and succeeded.

Damn. Cup of Tia and UrbanWallArt are some heavy hitters up in this bitch, too. It’s crazy to have someone with mad followers like my blog post. Makes me angry that time is marching on like a mother fucker up in here. It’s already almost nine o’clock and my girlfriend is threatening to make some food when she’s done with this chapter, which means we’ll have to break up this fucking word fest. Ah but I love her. She’s so cray.

God damn a mother fucker just came down the stairs and picked up his delivery order. The shit sounded like they were old friends, too, but I never hear them getting delivery, so that dude just must be mad charismatical.

Well, I don’t have much to say. Just felt like publishing some more shit. Blogging is the craziest shit alive, I really don’t understand it.

Holy shit! My laundry has been sitting in the washer for like two hours straight! Holy fuck! Laundrageddon out this bitch.