In this old, cold, poisoned age, Every tooth against the grain, Every dream a suicide dream, We are children without children. We cannot imagine how our parents Grew up without a backseat screen— What did they do on road trips? Grown big, we have stayed the same,
Curtis, to encourage you, you do not suffer from Peter Pan Syndrome. You are 20 years into marriage and raising kids, two factors that are lacking for Peter Pan Syndrome, which is a refusal to take on adult responsibilities. Now you are an honorable widower, you did not reject your spouse years ago, you took it all the way until death do us part, that is rare and commendable these days. Keep on looking out for your kids, wisely and patiently find a new wife, you have a good family compass. After taking care of responsibilities, it is okay to be energetic and motivated (even if no longer so young). It's okay to be curious and to think deeply on topics, especially important topics where insights may still be found.
Not actually seeing the happy aristocracy, but instead legions if childless women acting out of suppressed emotional pain and doped to the gills with antidepressants. Sounds like a prediction of Fully Automated Luxury Communism. Except that’s never going to happen. Tyrants would need to have good intentions and want to spread the happy nice things to others, even if it were somehow technologically achievable. The rising elite are not lovely, they are sadistic. The prospect of some spectacular resistance movement arising is limited to action-oriented science fiction, most likely. But a sullen, bitter retreat by masses of people into their private worlds or cliques or networks, to the extent they are permitted to have them, while the official structure ossifies, seems pretty likely. Meanwhile, there are billions of people out there who are hungry, and all you need to do is open the door and they will come in and eat everything, and reduce the entire place, outside the walled enclaves, to a garbage dump fully of uprooted people living in universal degradation. Inside the fortresses will be no picnic either, but they probably won’t actually be hungry, physically.
The poetry industry is dominated by woke people who lack an inner monologue. They write and award grievance poetry largely without meaning or metaphor. It's just one giant LARP. They pretend to be poets and pretend to be journals.
A rapper named Nas made a song called second childhood. Its mostly about people who come out of prison or have lost the will to live well. Too far gone in life to catch up to those who began well as children. As a divorcee I can tell you once u get knocked down and go through the trauma of losing in life you enter a period in life where you float on the wind like a leave for a while. You rest your soul and take the time to recalculate. If you stay in this place long enough you find yourself wandering the paths less taken. You will search for meaning and placement try to find your footing again and again. Try a bottle and find it doesn't suit a man who has responsibilities. After all of it you will stand up notice your shoulders are heavier your hair is greyer your eyes a little less lively. You will feel less solid heart a little colder but you will appreciate small things a smile from your children a sappy movie. You may even shed a few tears you will stop and appreciate the night sky more. See others who are damaged feel the pain emanate off them. I became more attached to my mountain I live on where as a child i felt it restriction as a older man its now protection. Either way hope this reaches you good luck.
Some sort of agency suppression field/influence that's [accidentally?] gifting those with high agency, a sudden onset of massive intelligence (or something like this.)
Implicit or explicit is irrelevant, be extra mindful of the speed that this is occurring and try to limit theorizing on why.
Curtis, are you listening to Zappa’s Joe’s Garage? Though you might be, since you mention the gay robots and the Church of Appliantology of our dystopian future.
Curtis, to encourage you, you do not suffer from Peter Pan Syndrome. You are 20 years into marriage and raising kids, two factors that are lacking for Peter Pan Syndrome, which is a refusal to take on adult responsibilities. Now you are an honorable widower, you did not reject your spouse years ago, you took it all the way until death do us part, that is rare and commendable these days. Keep on looking out for your kids, wisely and patiently find a new wife, you have a good family compass. After taking care of responsibilities, it is okay to be energetic and motivated (even if no longer so young). It's okay to be curious and to think deeply on topics, especially important topics where insights may still be found.
Not actually seeing the happy aristocracy, but instead legions if childless women acting out of suppressed emotional pain and doped to the gills with antidepressants. Sounds like a prediction of Fully Automated Luxury Communism. Except that’s never going to happen. Tyrants would need to have good intentions and want to spread the happy nice things to others, even if it were somehow technologically achievable. The rising elite are not lovely, they are sadistic. The prospect of some spectacular resistance movement arising is limited to action-oriented science fiction, most likely. But a sullen, bitter retreat by masses of people into their private worlds or cliques or networks, to the extent they are permitted to have them, while the official structure ossifies, seems pretty likely. Meanwhile, there are billions of people out there who are hungry, and all you need to do is open the door and they will come in and eat everything, and reduce the entire place, outside the walled enclaves, to a garbage dump fully of uprooted people living in universal degradation. Inside the fortresses will be no picnic either, but they probably won’t actually be hungry, physically.
The poetry industry is dominated by woke people who lack an inner monologue. They write and award grievance poetry largely without meaning or metaphor. It's just one giant LARP. They pretend to be poets and pretend to be journals.
Yet here on substack, actual poetry.
as an orc, I would like to make my preference for heterosexual robots known so it can be vindictively denied to me.
"A bald and spotted gifted-school,
Whimsical and jaded, sterile and lovely
And smart and classy, our every whim
Satisfied by armies of gay robots,
Ruling over a ruthless planet of orcs."
Bravo Curtis! Is this not the fate of all orcs transcendent? Must it be?
You don't seem like a nihilist. Also you don't seem to have wasted your time, at all.
A rapper named Nas made a song called second childhood. Its mostly about people who come out of prison or have lost the will to live well. Too far gone in life to catch up to those who began well as children. As a divorcee I can tell you once u get knocked down and go through the trauma of losing in life you enter a period in life where you float on the wind like a leave for a while. You rest your soul and take the time to recalculate. If you stay in this place long enough you find yourself wandering the paths less taken. You will search for meaning and placement try to find your footing again and again. Try a bottle and find it doesn't suit a man who has responsibilities. After all of it you will stand up notice your shoulders are heavier your hair is greyer your eyes a little less lively. You will feel less solid heart a little colder but you will appreciate small things a smile from your children a sappy movie. You may even shed a few tears you will stop and appreciate the night sky more. See others who are damaged feel the pain emanate off them. I became more attached to my mountain I live on where as a child i felt it restriction as a older man its now protection. Either way hope this reaches you good luck.
Peripheral reminder.
You are not the only burgeoning demigod.
Weird shit has happened lately.
Some sort of agency suppression field/influence that's [accidentally?] gifting those with high agency, a sudden onset of massive intelligence (or something like this.)
Implicit or explicit is irrelevant, be extra mindful of the speed that this is occurring and try to limit theorizing on why.
Off-blog content!
BAP and Yarvin discuss Cold War history... face-melting ayahuasca suppository for normie-cons:
https://bronzeagepervert.gumroad.com/l/BronzeAgePervert
I think this is Moldbug's best poem. At the very least, I felt every line.
Not bad. Leonard Cohen did it better.
Curtis, are you listening to Zappa’s Joe’s Garage? Though you might be, since you mention the gay robots and the Church of Appliantology of our dystopian future.
Gay robots? What does that mean?