#192 July 11.

#192 July 11.

I watched the middle-class suburban existance kill my father also.
watched him cash in his retirement to escape the 9 to 5 routine, to
buy a small general store along the mississippi river, even as i tried
to talk him out of it, tried to tell him he was buying into an existence
that ceased to exist decades ago. watched his self-esteem and health
crumble as the profits for the store did. watched him dwindle away
to nothing and die as surely as the store slide toward bankruptcy.

-j.

#191 July 10.

#191 July 10.

I was raised by musicians–touring musicians to be exact. One step above
being raised by wolves on the social acceptability ladder. Anyway, as a child
I would often ask my parents to stop moving around and get a nice suburban
life so I could be like everyone else around me and maybe fit in a bit. So
they did this. I watched my father set aside his roaming ways and settle
down into a 8 to 5 so I could have a house, a tv, a happy dog, a sturdy
fence, a cat. He got a fucking mortgage and self-righteous neighbors out of
the deal. I watched this life style kill him (literally). I watched my dad
put over a decade of his life into the system–taking the shit from superiors
being a good little middle class guy–all for me–only to have the system
turn around and fuck him over. And now I’m at school where everyone talks
about their suburban concerns, their suburban dreams, their suburban
neighborhoods and their suburban shopping sprees and I just can’t relate. Yet
I feel each day takes me closer to the very thing that I hate. Middle class
people have more [stuff] than 90% of the people in this world–but at what cost?
Dreary, drab, boring, loss of soul. Are they really so well off? I have
yet to meet a middle class person who is happy–distracted perhaps–but not
happy–or honest–or open. But what’s the alternative? Also, I certainly
wouldn’t want to raise children in suburbia–look at what the contradictions
can do to someone–look at the insecurity it breeds. Look at how it kills
creativity–making people think they can’t create. How can I work, when
i have no desire to reap the “rewards” I don’t even know what I want.

-Richard Thompson

#190 July 9.

#190 July 9.

Well… Things in life are not so easy. Like I could get run over by a
truck today, and then I’d never have had a really satisfying relationship
with a woman. Or I could just keep on being unlucky. There really are
people who remain lonely through their lives, just like there are people
who–say–die of cancer. It’s not their fault. It’s not that they didn’t
have a positive attitude. Things just didn’t work out.

-Paul Callahan

#189 July 8.

#189 July 8.

Knowing that you have absolutely nothing better to do when you’re finished with
that godawful, multiple all-nighter, “I’ll explode if I have to even have to
LOOK at this again” project from hell is not a big motivator. I’m sure my GPA
would be a lot happier if I had anything at all to look forward to after the
“big crunches” that come all too often at this institution. I want to grab a
diploma and run, but I have that oh so optimistic job market to deal with
next…I’m not exactly drooling with anticipation over that, either. I have no
confidence in my ability to find employment that will keep me amused for more
than a month.

“It’s only a few more weeks. After four years, that’s practically
insignificant.” – Various people, utterly failing to be helpful

“I still have to endure every second of it. Ever tried holding your breath for
that long?”

Sorry, I’m not even feeling particularly angstful. Mostly tired, and very,
very…something vaguely uncomfortable with a whopping heap of bitterness and
frustration just below the surface. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.

-Greg Parkhurst

#188 July 7.

#188 July 7.

I can’t work–I can’t bring myself to lift a finger to do what’s expected of me.
Instead I talk on the phone or play on internet or pick my nose–anything but do
the work. And the work is easy. Hell, everytime I walk into a 7-11 I realize
how good I’ve got it and how fucked I’ll have it if I lose this job (BTW, if any
of my charming co-workers are reading this, I invite you to go fuck yourselves
noisily–feel free to alert my manager that I’m a slacker, it’s not like he
doesn’t know, and I’ll see you in karmic hell).

-throated plaid

#187 July 6.

#187 July 6.

Having nothing to do, no distractions, does not make it easier for
me to work. Since I have been in The Hellhole I have lost all motivation
to do anything. I do things because I have to, and not because I give a shit.
Not good for someone doing physics research who is supposed to be self-
motivated.

The almost complete lack of outside-work activity has plunged me into a
dreary state of ennui and depression, in which the main focus of my thoughts
is: “Is pursuing an interesting research career in physics worth having
to live in The Hellhole?”

No escape!!!!! For hundreds of miles in any direction. I am tired of
being surrounded by retarded, inbred hicks with buzz cuts, and poofy
blonde bimbos. As a source of occasional entertainment, it’s not so bad,
but living here, where the cultural quality of life is so low as to be
non-existent, well….

I have come to the conclusion that living in The Hellhole is not worth
the good money they pay me here.

-Meech

#186 July 5.

#186 July 5.

Anybody else out ever had the feeling “I haven’t had enough fun lately to
justify doing any work.”?

-Paul Callahan

#185 July 4.

#185 July 4.

I sought to convince him that while I may have been a basket case in high
school, this was an appropriate response to my surroundings. “Why *should* I
have made friends?,” I argued “Just about everyone there was a preppy asshole.”
He agreed that this argument had merit, though we discussed some notable
exceptions to the rule. Another thing I said was “You know, *as a school*,
LaSalle had its good points.” He knew exactly what I meant. This was after I
had shouted the word “wasteland” many times in my drunken zeal, attempting to
convey my impression of LaSalle as a social environment. He said that if he
had kids he would never inflict that experience on them. I agreed and proposed
a toast to that sentiment. In parting, I requested that if he ever ran
into anyone from LaSalle (outside a small group of reasonable people),
would he please tell them that they suck and I still hate them, just in case
they’re wondering. He said he would, and he’s the sort of person who actually
might do it.

-Paul Callahan

#184 July 3.

#184 July 3.

so one day he got tired of waiting, tired of dedicating his life to a
future he couldn’t even see happening half the time. and an attractive
woman at work was making herself available, and i was too intense and
complicated and fucked-up, and he just wanted to get away. he claimed
to still love me, but to not want to be tied to anyone anymore. he
called it a hiatus. appearances still mattered; “we make a
great-looking couple,” he told me, talking about the new woman.

-sine

#183 July 2.

#183 July 2.

…or oww- Guess what? No time. God jesus christ our my nothing savior.

-Bret Easton Ellis, “The Rules of Attraction”