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Created on 2012-12-10 18:43:14 (#1849440), last updated 2013-03-05 (237 weeks ago)

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Name:ministry_victim
Birthdate:Dec 7
Quote of the Day:
"We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and -- in spite of True Romance magazines -- we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely -- at least, not all the time -- but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don't see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness." -Hunter S. Thompson, The Proud Highway

The scene in context is that Yossarian, our hero, is trying to convince the good psychiatrist, Major Sanderson, that he is in fact too nutso to fly anymore combat missions, and is receiving "feedback" on what his condition is.

"The problem with you is that you're too good for all the conventions of society... Do you know what you are? You're a frustrated, unhappy, disillusioned undisciplined, maladjusted young man!" Major Sanderson's disposition seemed to mellow as he reeled off the uncomplimentary adjectives.

"You're antagonistic to the idea of being robbed, exploited, degraded, humiliated or deceived. Misery depresses you. Ignorance depresses you. Persecution depresses you. Violence depresses you. Slums depress you. Greed depresses you. Crime depresses you. Corruption depresses you. You know, it wouldn't surprise me if you were a manic-depressive."

- Catch-22 from Joseph Heller

So what is there to be said about me that can't be read about on my journal? I'm a youthful old soul with a head full of ideas and this raggedy old journal to filter them through. I write, but I don't want to be read. I think, but don't want to be heard. I read esoteric topics, but my wisdom is exoteric and I don't care to discuss particularly what's on my mind at any given time. Here, things are different.

Once I was angry, but anger has given way to a kind of desultory internal dialogue, where analysis predominates over anger. I'm rarely angry anymore. I'm a nihilist on the road to meaning, donning my cowboy hat and riding my iron horse into a sunset I'll never reach. Subjective shots lie, and so does my journal.

Yet, if you're piqued, interested, or just plain weird, come on in and maybe you'll find a piece of your own personal story reflected from within these electronic pages.

Self-Pity from D.H. Lawrence

"I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself."

The rules? I have no rules. Just be good to each other when commenting.
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