Tag: Living

tf is narcissism?

“Narcissistic personality disorder” is HOT right now. I think it’s surpassed “borderline personality disorder” as the cool thing to have.

In all seriousness though, I think there’s been a turn in the psychological community. “Pop psychology” has turned disorders into badges of honor, or an identity, to the point where individuals no longer concern themselves with improvement and instead use their “disorder” as an excuse to continue shitty behavior then expect society to deal with it.

Of course, I’m speaking from personal experience. Obviously I’m an insane person that’s maladapted to society and require the services of doctors and therapists to help me. That has been the case since I was a teenager. When I first started seeking medical attention for my behavioral ailments, psychiatrists and therapists were in a mad dash to “diagnose” me into a neat category. Now, 93 years later, they don’t give a shit about that. It doesn’t matter. They just want to make sure that I don’t jump into traffic whenever I’m out in the public. That’s the important thing.

Anyways, personal anecdote aside, I’m fascinated by narcissism and the nature of mental disorders. I won’t get into that because it’s a lot of armchair philosophizing on my part, but is the prevalence of “narcissism” and “narcissistic personality disorder” a reflection of societal shifts?

I reckon that “narcissism” and “narcissistic personality disorder” are not synonymous, but I do think they share a link with the rise of radical individualism and consumer culture.

I’m not a psychologist. Thank god. But I can say with near certainty that I’ve been blessed with having not one, but two people very close to me have NPD. Crazy people have a tendency to attract other crazy people. Go figure. (I may say more about this at another time)

One was charismatic and the other a complete fucking moron, but they shared this commonality: when most people have an interaction with somebody, say someone they just met, all sorts of assumptions are being made. Most of these assumptions, by both parties, are not expressed and are usually rationalized as being just ASSUMPTIONS. Nothing more. There’s a wall of rationality between perception and reality, and most people are good at distinguishing between the two. A narcissist, at least the ones I’ve met, don’t have that ability.

The narcissist’s perceptions get projected onto the reality at hand, and they’re not able to tell where their emotions end and where objective reality begins. In my instances, both individuals reacted harshly against being labeled a liar. It was obvious that they had difficulty with the truth, but in their mind, they weren’t lying.

What this has to do with society at large, I don’t know. It’s merely conjecture on my part.

No I will not explain further.

the last temptation of Christ- by nikos Kazantzakis

Look, I’m not a particularly religious person.

Why I obsess over Jesus and the New Testament, I don’t know. Just do. Get off my ass.

But I just started reading The Last Temptation of Christ by Nikos Kazantzakis. I’m only about halfway through it, it’s a long book. I don’t expect any twists and turns to a story that I’m already familiar with.

But the book is nothing like the film, let’s just get that out of the way.

I couldn’t have written in a million years. It reads like an extended version of the Gospels. But it weaves between perspectives-from Jesus (Son of Mary, as he’s often called), to Judas, to Mary (wife of Joseph) to Mary Magdalene, to the Apostles, etc-to create a rich tapestry of these events. Because Kazantzakis writes like the authors of the Gospels, the book actually breaths life into the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

While reading it, I honestly forget that this book was deemed “controversial”. Of course, I haven’t gotten to the “last temptation” part, which might understandably piss some people off, but as Kazantzakis explains in his prologue, Jesus (at least if you’re Christian) was both full divine and fully human. Can you imagine the burden of having to live with that? Everyone hears about the “divine” part. But no one wants to confront the “fully human” part. So Kazantzakis takes that perspective and runs with it.

Anyways, finished taking a shit. Gotta get back to work.

BYE ✋

Just Fckn Coffee!

Are you a stupid idiot?

Hi, I’m James.

I think it’s important that a brand represents its customers. Sure I’m a hack that’s scamming you by selling a completely unnecessary and stupid product, but I do so out of care and concern for your representation.

That’s why I developed Just Fckn Coffee!

No more of that liberal bullshit from Seattle called “Starbucks”. And none of that right-wing authoritarian crap from “Black Rifle Coffee”. I want to appeal to those who feel nothing, whose lives are as empty as their bank account.

Just Fckn Coffee! will give you the jolt you need to make it through one more day. Because life is hard. And there is no hope.

So next time you’re feeling numb from the overwhelming dread that is modern life, pour yourself a cup of Just Fckn Coffee!

Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

machismo

I always thought that collectively we had two choices: evolve to a Star Trek-like utopia where poverty, disease, prejudice, and war are eradicated—or take Ted Kaczynski’s advice and shun industrialized civilization altogether.

This middle ground that we’re hellbent on occupying is some bullshit though.

Heaven forbid if I call any of this out, however. Apparently my disdain for consumerism, narcissism, the eradication of public trust, and concern for unprecedented technological advancement on our psyche and relationships is no longer fashionable within Left/Right political framework.

It probably never was tbh

Where am I going with this?

Nowhere.

I’m as directionless as our collective consciousness.

The end

lost in the supermarket

“Ever wanted to do more?” some commercial by a for-profit university asked me.

Actually, I’ve always wanted to do LESS.

I can’t even watch ASMR without some jackass telling me that I’ve got 40lbs of excess shit in my bowels. Is that something I should be worried about? I already spend enough of my life on a toilet.

“Wanna invest in crypto?”

No thanks. Sports betting seems like a lot cooler way to lose money.

“Use my promo code to get one month free at Manscaped.com!”

Since when did men start shaving their balls?

Do people actually find this shit revolutionary or liberating? Any limp dick bastard with enough cash and a camera can convince enough people that some halfassed product manufactured from a sweatshop in Juarez is worth your hard earned money.

So why don’t you try sending some of that money my way?

Download my ebook for $599.99 today! 👍

love at first sight

Some jackass was pounding on my door at 10:30 in the morning. I opened up and a man stuck out his hand.

“I’m Gay,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“Gayson Peters. I’m your new neighbor across the street.”

He was wearing an orange button up with khaki cargos and socks pulled all the way up to his knees.

“What do you want from me?” I asked. “Some money?”

“No. I’m inviting you to a barbecue that I’m having this afternoon.”

“Eh, I’m hungover,” I said. “Can’t make it”

“That’s okay, I’ll be serving free alcohol. Just come over and get drunk again.”

“I’ll see you this afternoon.”

I threw on a clean pair of pants (no underwear) and flipped my shirt inside out. I grabbed a bag of pretzels so that I didn’t look like a complete asshole for not bringing anything.

When I arrived, my new neighbor handed me a plate. “No thank you, Gayson,” I said, “I’m just here for the booze.”

“Please, call me Gay.”

I got really drunk. As I was hanging out in the backyard trying not to barf, a woman tapped me on the shoulder.

“Got a light sweetheart?” she asked.

I handed her my lighter. She was about 50 something. Blond hair. Definitely had a smoker’s voice.

“Have you known Gay for long?” she asked.

“Since this morning.”

“I’m his mom.”

“Excuse me,” I said.

I walked up to the hot tub and barfed my guts out. When I finished, I walked back to her.

“Sorry about that,” I said. “So you’re Gay’s mom. What’s that like?”

“He’s an asshole,” she replied. “Got any kids?”

“Probably.”

“How old are you?”

“I dunno. Somewhere between 28 and 74.”

She took one last drag from her cigarette then flicked it away. “Well this party is pretty lame,” she said. “Why don’t you come on over to my place and have some drinks? My name’s Lucinda.”

“Sure thing, Lucinda.”

Her apartment was a converted storage unit. It was littered with old Penthouse mags, newspapers, and an endless supply of glue. She stepped out of the shower and walked into the kitchen. In fact, the shower was in the kitchen.

“Sorry that my tits are flopping out,” Lucinda said. “I have no clean towels.”

“That’s okay. I haven’t had an erection in years. Too much prescription meds and internet pornography.”

She seemed to blow a sigh of relief. “Thank god,” she said. “I can’t have sex. Vag is all dried up.”

I poured a drink and raised a toast. “To my dead ass dick!” I said.

We sat down on the couch and I began flipping through the channels.

“Sorry,” Lucinda said. “But the only thing this TV picks up is Designing Women.”

I turned my head and looked deep into her eyes. “I love Designing Women,” I said.

There was some energy between us. We shared a moment.

When Major Dad came on, I had to take a shit. “Do you need any toilet paper?” she asked.

“Nope. Never used it.”

As I blew up the toilet behind paper thin walls, I though that I could spend the rest of my life with this woman.

“I clogged the toilet,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it. It ain’t going nowhere.”

I sat back down on the couch. As we laughed at Gerald McRaney’s shenanigans, I reached out to hold her hand. She rested her head on my shoulder. Then she let out the most disgusting fart.

“I need to change my underwear,” she said.

It was the happiest night of my life.

THE END

Freaky deaky Saturday iii: let’s get this over with

The unsatisfying conclusion to my worst short story

“I’m driving,” Susan said as she grabbed the keys to my Porsche (or Lamborghini, Ferrari, or whatever it is that I drive). “Wear something skimpy.”

Susan, in my body, made me wear a short skirt. No panties. (As a reminder, I am in Susan’s body)

Susan pounded a pint of whisky as she drove like a maniac. She reached over the console to feel up my skirt.

“Where did you last see this warlock?” she asked.

“It was down this dark and dingy back alley.”

So we parked in the alleyway. As I got out of the car, a homeless man came up to me. “Hey baby,” he said, “mind if I take that pooter for a spin?”

Susan pulled out a .45. “Back off buddy,” she said. “She’s with me.”

“Jesus! I was just asking about the car!” the homeless man replied. Then he went back to shitting in a piss-stained corner.

“How did you find my .45?” I asked Susan.

“It was already in my jacket pocket,” she replied. “What are you, some kind of psycho?”

The warlock was on the other side of the dumpster. He was schooling some kids on a game of knucklebones.

“Scram kids,” Susan said.

“Fuck off old man,” one of them replied. “Don’t make me cut you open!”

Susan once again pulled out the .45 and fired a round into the air. One of the kids pulled a straight razor and held it to my throat.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” the kid said.

“Yes,” Susan replied. She then lowered the pistol and fired a shot between his eyes.

As the kid’s body fell to the ground, the others ran off. Susan grabbed me by the arm and held me close.

“Did that turn you on?” she asked.

It did. But I said nothing.

“What’s the meaning of all this?” the warlock asked. “That kid owed me $20.”

“Put us back into our own bodies,” Susan said.

“What? Are you high?” he replied.

“You’re the warlock that cursed me yesterday when I hit you with my car,” I said. “Now I’m in her body and she’s in mine!”

“Warlock? Sweetheart, I’m just a dirty homeless man that lives behind a dumpster and grifts kids out of money.”

Susan and I look at each other. “Then why didn’t you take the money when I offered it to you?” I asked.

“I dunno. I was probably high on MDMA or something. I get hit by cars all the time!”

Susan began pounding the whiskey again. “Welp, this was a waste of time,” she said. “Oh well, let’s go.”

“What are we gonna do about this dead body?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” the “warlock” said. “People die back here all the time. It’ll be fine.”

We got back in the car. The two of us sat in silence for a moment. “I guess we’re stuck in these bodies for the rest of our lives,” Susan said.

“I guess so.”

“Wanna go back to my place and fuck?”

“Sure,” I said. “But what’s with that gimp?”

THE END 🤷‍♂️

existential dread

“Your test results are positive,” the doctor said as he sat grimly behind his desk.

I took a deep breath. “What does this mean?” I asked.

“You’re perfectly healthy. Not a damn thing is wrong with you. You are going to live a very, VERY long life.”

I sighed.

“This is terrible news doc.”

THE END