Ya know . . . since I didn't post Monday.
The rage is back. But over my labret. Just got it done last Wednesday. Today, the spike came out while I was washing my face and down the drain it went. And of course Tuesday is the night my piercing shop is closed.
Whatever happened to remembering the Sabbath and keeping that holy? Fuck Tuesdays, if I can get holes put in my face on Sunday, I should be able to do so any goddamned day of week.
. . . .
Fucking priceless. Also, not the first time this has happened to me, regarding a labret. Two times in two years.
But fuck it, I'm about to go nuclear, again, and totally don't need to dwell on this anymore than I already have.
Last night, before I was drifting off to dreamland--with my piercing all snug and shiny, except for the base, which was probably all crusty with pus--I had a thought. Several, really, but I'll leave the ones about naked!Rachel Maddow and the fully-stocked dungeon by the wayside. The important thought was:
I should reexamine my morals, such as they are.
They used to be based on all the traumatizing shit I used to think would happen to me when I died. Hellfire, torment, being reincarnated as a neo-conservative--the big guns-punishments for living a "bad" life.
But last night, for the first time in my life maybe, I examined my morals objectively. And I'm trying to build a new, logical code. I'm thinking that's important, if only so my life isn't made more miserable by prison (I hear it's a bitch, or be bitched world in the pen. I'd be currency in less than ten hours) or sticking unthinkingly to silly, groundless morals.
So far, the only thing I've got hammered out is: why don't I kill?
The answer is: I'm not nearly smart enough to get away with it. I watch CSI: Miami. I'd be in the calabozzo within the hour of commiting murder. Even if I could argue it down to man 2.
The less glib--and, incidentally, slightly more true--answer is that I simply can't be bothered with ending everyone, or even anyone that sneds me into a murderous rage. I spend most of my day in a murerous rage, due to something/person or other. My killing arm would quickly get tired and I'd quickly get jailed.
The same answers can be adapted for why I don't steal--too stupid, too lazy--and why I lie way less than I otherwise might. Though that last one has the added reason of me not caring enough about most of the people I meet to lie to them. Lies should be saved for the few whose feelings matter.
I'm still working on, why should I care about others I don't know or like?
Nowadays, when I hear about starving children, or likely-innocent people rotting away on death row, I think: sucks to be you, but eventually we'll all be dead, anyway.
And there the consideration ends, but for a few flickers of enlightened self-interest. One thing I've already established is that I'm just in it--the slow march toward death--to keep myself as un-bored and un-dead for as long as possible. My apathy toward helping random others is matched only by my apathy toward harming them. It requires too much effort for too little return. Or seems like it would, since I've neither helped nor harmed anyone, lately.
So. There's what passes for my code, thus far.
I dunno if it's good or bad, dunno that I care. But it's at least a start. An honest one, rather than a Pascal's Wager kinda thing, where I tell myself I'm good because I genuinely am when I'm really just hedging bets. I hate being nice to people, and I'm not particularly good. I'm not particularly bad either: just lazy, and smart enough to know that I'm not smart enough to get away with all the shit I'd otherwise do.
Religion was created for people like me-- gullible, lazy, half-assed opportunists. Before there was CSI, and DNA evidence, people could get away with anything, if they were reasonably clever. Would have, too, except they believed there was an omnipotent sky fairy peering over their shoulder.
There's something freeing in not having a soul to worry about the state of. Of knowing that every time I decide not to seall, or hurt, or lie--and these are conscious decisions I make daily--that I'm doing it because I've weighed the options and decided it's not worth it. Not because I'm licking the sky fairy's ass in the hopes of sliming my way into purgatory.
If I don't lie, steal, kill, cheat, whatever, it's not because of a god, or karma--or even a desire to be a "decent person". It's because I have better things to do with the limited time I've got, than rot in prison, or listen to someone bitch at me about how I done them wrong.
I'm thinking of calling it the Dao of Leave-me-the-fuck-alone-and-I'll-do-the-same.
It's not catchy, but whatever :)
I feel, for the first time, like a fully realized person. Not necessarily a sterling one, but who gives crap? I'm me. Less adulterated and confused, less lost than I was this time last night. I'm me, and--good, bad, or to-lazy-to-care-either-way--that's all I can be, and all I want to be.
Definitely a thing worth celebrating.
For Yule, I just may get myself a Madison, since labrets are not working out for me.
"The Seether is neither big nor small. The Seether is the center of it all."--Veruca Salt