KARBYTES_JOURNAL_2023_ENTRY_524
Update: I just wanted to thank all those who helped to make this production possible. I am very grateful for the many human (and non human) agents who helped to make this website what it is. I think the bulk of the story-telling aspect of this website is done. Once this section of this website is complete, I only intend to update the KARBYTES_CODE_CONTINUES page of this website.
When I was exiting a cafe I was at earlier today after I finished the last journal entry and filled my water bottles up in the bathroom, I saw some woman expectantly standing outside the entrance with a phone in her hand and, as I walked past her I heard her say, “It’s gonna be an entire hour.” I take that as her suggesting that I shouldn’t travel by foot to any place which takes more than ten minutes (and that I have “no choice” but to resume driving a car).
I also noticed several men seemingly stalking me in cars, motorbikes, and motorized scooters as I walked to my destination. I can hear them talking in my vicinity loudly seemingly so I can hear them as they try to interrupt my thought process with the words such as what they want me to be focusing on such as, “It’s all about her father.”
As I walked along the long road uphill to the bridge I am sitting at now, I decided to write the following notes.
* * *
P: “Do not exaggerate how bad your circumstances are. If you do, then people will try to make your circumstances as bad as you say they are. That is to punish you for lying and for cheating by trying to make other people think that you are more disabled than you actually are so that you can get away with achieving more than they expect you to.”
P: “Most women would rather shut up, comply with the patriarchy (and be a sycophant to it), and get a job than put up with what you’ve gone through. We just don’t want the world to think you’re getting a better deal than those women.”
* * *
I thought that I might be involved in a long-term social experiment in which humans gradually pretend (or maybe even actually) lose their ability to use and to appreciate spoken and written language and abstract concepts which are not all about sleep, sex, food, and defending one’s territory and assets from competitors. It almost seems like people are only interested in monitoring me for the following things: to make sure I don’t get to eat better quality food more often than they do and to have a higher quality of living than they do. It seems like people are envious and intimidated by me having exercised my ability to articulate so many of my thoughts in writing and to publish them online and that I should be prevented from being able to keep online (or in my brain or in a flash drive or in a paper notebook what I have written) because I apparently did not do enough to earn the “right” to have such high quality thoughts in comparison to the vast majority of the impoverished low paid working class citizens who have neither time nor energy nor space nor community support to engage in “higher” thoughts than the banalities they are steeped in all day.
I remember having many creepy dreams about my father getting angry at me and resorting to violence (and I can cite at least one example of him being physically violent in real life: during a family holiday gathering in which my father was washing dishes, my father noticed that my maternal grandfather failed to scrub all the food particles off those dishes when he washed them first, so my father picked up a large metal pot and threw it at the wall behind him (and it caused a small dent in the wall and it narrowly missed my brother’s head)). So I feel uncomfortable about my father because he seems like someone who pretends to be calm all the time but, as soon as he becomes provoked, he quickly becomes violent and belligerent. I would rather not cite the many examples I can remember since moving into his deceased mother’s house (which his electronics engineer father paid for in full and which my mother pays yearly property taxes on). Anyway, I just wanted to focus on the dream which seems most relevant to this journal entry:
My father was angry and said, “I want what you have in there,” and was pointing to what was between my forehead and the back of my skull with his finger like he did not think I deserved to have it if he did not have at least as much of what that is: cerebral processing power and knowledge which makes my life feel worthwhile to me to live.
That’s it. It was a very brief scene in a dream whose other details are unclear to me at this time. Anyway, because I have dug up so much dirt about other people today, I might as well give some of the people what they want: a litany of the major offenses I committed.
1. I dropped out of college multiple times instead of finishing (and almost all expenses were paid for by my mother). I basically wasted her money and accrued student loan debt.
2. I have been an excessively needy and manipulative girlfriend to past boyfriends who I know are better off without me in their lives because I slowed them down on their goals, made them depressed, and did not contribute my fair share of financial and emotional support during our relationships. It should be noted that I strongly prefer to spend the remainder of my life single rather than in a relationship. I would be perfectly fine if I never had sex as well. Honestly, if I could afford it, I would be a schizoid of a hermit with only an Internet connection for social connection.
3. I threw a metal teaspoon at the back of my mother’s head during an argument at her house while I was standing halfway up the staircase and she was walking on the ground floor. I think that is probably the offense I am most held in contempt for. I think some people think I should have been doing ten years in prison for that crime. Others seem to think I deserve to be severely psychologically tortured as punishment for that violent crime (which was classified as only a misdemeanor instead of a felony). That crime could have killed my mother if not give her severe brain damage.
Maybe people want me to shut up right here and be relegated to oblivion now and/or to an abused whore on the streets who deserves to be talked to in a disparaging way, dismissed as having nothing of substance to say, and maybe even stripped of all my possessions (and maybe even my brain power). I bet some people are eager to believe (and make it so) that I am being deprived of my cognitive capacities by police as punishment for my most violent crime. Schadenfreude is probably the only reason I’m allowed to live and to be in public according to some. It should also be noted that I have no more friends (but I am not making an effort to have friends). Eventually I expect to have a job so I can pay my bills and avoid suffering, but even then I intend to be a schizoid who only socializes as much as necessary to keep my job and to keep the peace at work, on the streets, and in the home.
(By the way, I don’t care what gender people refer to me as anymore. Hence, I generally resort to using the name Kar when not required to provide my legal name and my legal name otherwise. If people ask, I’ll say non-binary. I won’t protest if people use pronouns or names I don’t like).
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This web page was last updated on 02_JULY_2023. The content displayed on this web page is licensed as PUBLIC_DOMAIN intellectual property.
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