KARBYTES_JOURNAL_2022_ENTRY_144
(Correction: I meant to use the date 20_SEPTEMBER_2022 instead of 19_SEPTEMBER_2022 but decided to leave those social media posts and GitHub upload because I already have likes on what I posted to social media).
Last night I camped at Lake Chabot near the lake shore. (I moved after some guy to my left kept muttering insults at me seemingly in order to discourage me from being outside and alone after dark). I walked to a dock and slept there. I had a dream that a large crowd of people showed up there the next morning to get me to be some kind of political figure to ask them to raise their hand if they think that teachers should be given studio apartments to live in. I saw most of the people raise their hands and thought that those who did not believed that people should live in multi-generational family homes. I was told by an attractive and professional looking white female park ranger with blonde hair that my phone was still on the dock (because at that point in the dream I was off the dock but could see that my phone and backpack were both there). By the time I got my phone, I saw that the people (and perhaps even the park staff) moved my backpack into the water. I did not want to show how panicked and unhappy with the people I was when I thought about how my laptop computer was in that backpack and could be damaged from getting soaked. There was another smaller backpack suddenly floating next to mine in the water. The staff said some words suggesting that my backpack is park property. I pulled my backpack out of the water and saw that the tarp which I wrapped around my laptop computer was sufficient to keep the water out and my laptop was able to turn on. While sleeping, I woke up a few times to see a starry sky and the crescent moon rising over the nearby hills and treetops. I was comforted by the sound of ducks quacking in a way which sounded like vigorous cackling laughter, low pitched quacking, and geese honking. I fell asleep and had another dream about being in a gasoline station doing some arts and crafts by myself after some people close to my age from my formative years were there and went elsewhere. I used scraps to set up a miniature volleyball net, fake grass, multicolored glitter, a little human figurine, and a little soccer ball. I was preparing to take a photograph of the scene with my phone but was missing some props and was trying to find them. I thought, “Dang! When I get close to finishing some project, the universe seems to suddenly prevent me from having everything I need to complete it.” I felt myself waking up and rushing to finish the project before I had to return to my comparatively uninspired and painful waking life. I woke up and saw a flock of geese floating on the water with clouds of evaporating water rising up from the lake surface and the morning sunlight casting a golden glow over the landscape. I tried to hold onto where I left off in the dream to finish the project, but I has trouble going back to sleep because the sunlight warned me up too much and because the people walking along the trails and “invading” my camping spot were obnoxiously loud, jarring, and ugly (and I thought I heard some of them saying mean things to me including the fact that they were trying to deprive me of relaxation and space to hear myself think).
I like the people who quietly hike and who seem to share my enthusiasm and reference for the wilderness. What I do not like (and daresay fantasize instantaneously and painlessly vaporizing out of existence) are the noisy, brash, chauvinist crowds which leave their garbage in otherwise pristine places and deprive everyone around them of peace and quiet because those ugly pig people seem to have a vendetta against people who just want to be alone and to do yoga. Those pig people seem more interested in talking and announcing their parasitic presence than they do in meditating and paying attention to the natural environment around them. In fast, the people I despise most seem to be anti yoga and anti meditation and they seem to enjoy sadistically harassing those who want to enjoy the natural space without being interrupted and bullied by chauvinist pig people demanding to be the center of attention. As racist as this might sound, I dread having to put up with those barking, buzz kill brats who seem to be politically conservative and anti individualist and anti intellectual pygmies of Hispanic or Caucasian descent. I prefer the educated, quieter, and more independent “gentrified” people. I resent and dread encounters with the anti gentrifiers; those who leave their trash wherever they go and force others to experience a drop in standard of living. I also hate the way Hispanic women talk. They sound like didactic barking dogs whose vocalizations come out in shrill and painful staccato bursts which sound impatient, dismissive, lackadaisical, and angrily cheerful. They tend to be rather monotone, whining, nagging, and sniveling.
* * *
I know it is technically illegal to camp where I was last night. I do not plan on doing if again. I just wanted a place to camp which was away from the automobile traffic and sounds of urban sprawl. I do not yet have enough money to get a new phone but I have enough for headphones if I am willing to not buy as much food today. I have to soon pay for more phone data and another month of continued phone service with AT&T. I will most likely wait until Friday to do any of that because Friday is when I expect to get $100 instead of $40 like I usually do every other day of the week. (The cracked camera lens of my phone is apparent in the bottom left corner of the photograph I took of the lake this morning). As much as I wish I could relax and immerse myself in what I love, I gave so much antagonistic and disruptive interference from tyrants that I am afraid I never will get to relax and immerse myself in what I love. I am afraid that I am doomed to feel deprived of what I most long for in life and that I will have to settle for merely surviving, avoiding getting incarcerated for violent crime, and scoring tepid bits of satisfaction occasionally as my only goals in life. All I really have to call my own and to take pride in is my websites. I hardly get to have much control over anything else; not even my body and mind because other people (and society in general) forces me to take damage and to be suppressed to the extent that it is increasingly likely that I will die from cancer and other diseases induced by chronic stress.
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A detail I forgot to include from my dream about the rally at the lake was noticing a deep hole in my left toe which looked dry and hollowed out. I imagined that a spider could be hiding in there.
* * *
One more thing: I would like to apologize for jumping to and adhering to prejudiced conclusions about people. I am trying to just drop my presumptions and be more unassuming and open minded like how I was as a kid. Unfortunately, I keep getting signs that other people are watching my thoughts and moves and feelings closely and literally trying to force me to write inauthentically. That above all else might be why feel antisocial and pessimistic about my future. I see how forcefully and relentlessly other humans shove their words into my brain in place of my own. I may be exaggerating in a paranoid manner to myself and to my readers in general. I really think I need those headphones today.
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I have incurable misophonia because I do not want to have to adapt to being drowned out by other peoples voices which suppress mine and which replace their words with mine.
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The Internet is an expression of my brain. I would panic if the Internet was destroyed, suppressed, or taken down because that’s my brain’s backup memory.
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The best we can do is set a bad example for the next generation so that they can do better than us.
Life is too short for morality. Let’s just be hedonists instead.
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If being authentic is my highest priority goal, then anything which impedes my ability to express myself as authentically (rather than skewed to fit someone else’s agenda at the expense of my own) is an impairment even while other people do not think me being censored and coerced into playing an inauthentic role is not an impairment to their goals. To them all I am worth is how useful of a tool I am for them to exploit and act as the proprietors of; a tool to serve their ends and to hell with everyone else’s.
* * *
Other people have destroyed and stolen my bicycles and no one has seriously been interested in helping me to pay for a new one. I think that is because they either want me to drive a gasoline powered vehicle so that they do not have to cite me as a role model to do the same or else they want to force me to have to mingle with other people against my will as their captive audience.
* * *
I plan on only using the gasoline powered car which my parents are letting me borrow to drive to work and little else. In fact, I see no reason why I would drive it for any other reason. When not parked at work, that car is parked at the side street were people do not seem to move it without my permission.
* * *
If I park that car in front of my mom’s house, my dad blocks it with his car rather than graciously parks on the which intersects with my mom’s driveway. When I park on the street which intersects with my mom’s driveway, my dad moves it back to that spot where he blocks it in my mom’s driveway.
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Given the fact that there exist the means to produce enough food to allow every human on Planet Earth to eat as much as they want, I wonder if food is artificially scarce in order to starve people into conformity.
This web page was last updated on 20_SEPTEMBER_2022. The content displayed on this web page is licensed as PUBLIC_DOMAIN intellectual property.
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