Tuesday, February 21, 2017

I don't weep, do you?

There is so much that you can learn from Charles Bukowski. He was an alcoholic, a heavy drinker, a smoker. He used to gamble a lot and he loved women so much that he spent all his money on them and of course the booze. He was a writer too. If you have never read anything from him, you're probably thinking what the fuck, he's the last person you would ever look to learn anything but I am telling you, he is the perfect place to start learning about life.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
in there.

Bukowski didn’t give a fuck about his success as a writer. Even when he was famous, he still read his poetry hammered. He still tried to sleep with every woman he could find. Fame and success didn't make him a better person. He was not any happier then before...

I don't like positive expectations such as be happier, be richer, be smarter, faster, more popular, more productive, be healthier, sexier ... I despise commercials about happy families... you know, like a husband kissing his selfie-ready spouse in the morning... a breakfast, eggs and pancakes with kids and orange juice, newspapers and coffee... after then he, with smiling fucking face, sit in his mercedes going to his wonderfully fulfilling job, spending his days doing incredibly meaningful work making like a ton of money.

But when you stop and really look such advertisements and then look around yourself, this positive and happy stuff you see all the time is actually attention on what you don't have. It gives you feeling that you are a loser, you perceive your shortcomings and you clearly see your failures. You stand in front of the mirror and repeat bullshit affirmations fooling yourself with wishful thinking.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up? 
you want to screw up the
you want to blow my book sales in

Ironically, this fixation on the positive is the cause of your suffering. Fuck it! Focusing on what you lack will not improve your happiness, happy person does not feel the need to stand in front of a mirror and repeat that he’s happy.

TV commercials want you to believe that the key to a good life is a nicer job, bigger house, bigger car, a prettier girlfriend, a fucking hot tub with a fucking trampoline for the kids. This society is constantly telling you that to be happy you need more, more and more — buy more, work more, own more, eat more, shit more, fuck more... You are constantly bombarded with messages to care about your appearance, your wealth, retirement, kids, job... take care about everything, all the time. Have a better vacation than your coworkers, a newer lawn machine from your neighbour and have a longer fucking selfie stick!

And of course... disappointment comes into your life. It is a natural consequence of your way of living, like it is natural for a fox to sometimes eat a rabbit. You get pissed off at the stupidest, simple stuff, and you have no idea why. Disappointment is maybe not a right word, but you feel like shit for seeing images of people totally happy and having amazing fucking lives, and it’s impossible to not feel like there’s something wrong with you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
and we sleep together like
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do

If you find yourself giving too much attention about trivial shit that bothers you such as how many likes your new Facebook picture have or how quickly the batteries of your phone die or why did you miss that wonderful sale... why your favorite soccer team lost the game and similar shit... all chances are you don't have much going on in your life. And that’s your real problem. Not the Facebook picture, not the phone, neither the sale nor the fucking soccer game.

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