I Tried

I realized I've explored the spectrum of negativity here while I was bored out of my mind at work yesterday.  I came up with a more positive mantra than the one I usually go with (Time is passing; death is closer.), which is "Time is passing; you have paid time off to take."  Despite the soul-crushing boredom, I was trying to feel positive.  Then I shaved my bald head, and some hair fell into my eye, and it was bad.  My eye is tearing up again just thinking about it.  There was pain, discomfort, and worry.  I have no health insurance.  I couldn't go to a hospital without breaking the bank.  And that's life.  Just when it's going okay, something shitty happens. 
That's another "life is."  Life is suffering with hair in your eye, trying to finish cutting your hair, while, as usual, hearing your scumbag neighbors through the wall.  You want to scream at them to give you a break, because you're suffering worse than usual, but you realize they have a right to make their shitty noise; it's not too early or too late.  And screaming at them would probably just make it worse.  And when horrible things happen to you, other people, and animals, the rest of the world just smiles and laughs, because they don't care.  What a cruel, cold place.  

Things People Care About More Than Animals

This is a list of things people care about more than animals (especially animals like pigs, cows, and chickens, etc.)-money (obviously), TVs, football, golf, basketball, baseball, NASCAR, soccer, tennis, ping pong, Tiddlywinks, god, Jesus, flags, Scandal, phones, The Price Is Right, what they look like, wallpaper, cars, Wheel of Fortune, soap operas, shoes, shoelaces,  tools, furniture, bug spray, hammocks, paperweights, Jeopardy, their weight, letter openers, their lawns, pens, Frisbees, hula hoops, jewelry, crystals, alcohol, drugs, bubblegum, bubble bath, sex, The Walking Dead, etc.
I could go on and on here, but the point is obvious.  To the average person, animals' lives are practically worthless.  I may have mentioned this here before, but I'll probably never forget this line from a movie called The Boost.  James Woods' character bought a car and a dog for his wife.  He said something like, "A $50,000 car and a $2 mutt: go figure."  I think this was meant to be a funny line, but it makes me very sad, because it's true.  Dogs are pretty much free to adopt, but they're put to sleep because they're not wanted.  It seems to me like the only way to enjoy life with all this suffering going on is to have no conscience.
 

Fuck American Football

One of the most annoying things one has to deal with in this country is the popularity of American football, which I couldn't care less about.  As a lover of animals, I'm truly offended that the average American cares so much more about these meaningless football games than the extreme, widespread suffering that people are forcing animals to endure.
At work, I've seen guys standing around, talking so seriously about football, as though it mattered more than nothing, which it doesn't.  The only people that should care about football are those who are profiting from it: the players, coaches, owners, commentators, etc. 
It's not as though I never cared about it.  I was a big sports fan when I was a kid.  Then, one year, my baseball team, the Yankees, won the World Series again.  I watched the players jumping around like happy children, and it did nothing for me.  What happens when "your team" wins?  Does a million dollars get directly deposited into your bank account?  Of course not.  I essentially went from being a pro sports fan to not caring about it at all in that moment.
At work one day, in the break room, a coworker was watching a football game on TV, but that wasn't enough.  He felt the need to talk to me about the game, even though I was trying to read a book.  Apparently, the book in my hands wasn't enough of a clue that I didn't give a fuck about the game.
Football is boring.  The playoff game that my coworkers were going crazy over yesterday wasn't even close.  One team clobbered another.  How many times has a quarterback handed the ball off to a running back, who ran for a few yards before being tackled?  Over and over and over again.

Arrested

I used to be able to say that I've never been arrested: not any more.  I am a memoirist, so, for now, I'm thinking I'll save the full story for another one of my seldom-read eBooks.  Suffice it to say that I'm at the lowest point in my life so far, and that's saying something. 
I've been dealing with the aftermath: court appearances, appointments with lawyers, and asking my job to let me go to these things.  I have a long road of pain-in-the-ass shit ahead.
Also, this has been a very shitty weekend as far as my asshole neighbor fucking with me goes. 
I'm thinking I don't care about my life anymore.  Because of the depression I have, I've thought that the further I slide to the bottom, the better.  I'd rather be dead than alive.  I'm only alive because I'm a coward: too scared to commit suicide.  Life is a nightmare.  It really is.  And when I read stuff written by intelligent people, they back me up on this.  It really is insane that people procreate they way they do and continue this cycle of misery, pain, and suffering.  But I'm just repeating myself. 
Fuck life in society on this planet.  Life is shit (in society) on this planet.  I'd throw it all away and be homeless in the wilderness if I wasn't addicted to toilet paper and showers.  Fuck you society, for getting me addicted to toilet paper and showers: the only good things you came up with.

Crushing, Killing Debt

 
Currently, my retirement options are a) homelessness and b) suicide.  I have over $23,000 in credit card debt.  I should be like the average human.  I should care much, much more about money than animals.  But I can't.  I just can't.  I care more about animals than money every second of every day.
I was watching a movie that I like the other day called The Boost, which is about drug addiction.  James Woods buys an expensive car, and a dog, for his wife (Sean Young).  I'm relying on my memory, but he essentially said, "A $50,000 car and a $2 mutt-go figure."  That line saddened me immediately and deeply, because, in our society and world, it's true.  I don't agree with that.  I truly believe the life of one mouse is worth more than all the money in the world.  Animals are flesh and blood; money is paper and metal.
But, in our society, money is worth more than life.  That's one of humankind's contributions to this world.  It can safely be said that, in our society, all these items are worth more than the lives of countless animals: smartphones, cars, houses, clothes, shoes, hoverboards, bikes, motorcycles, coffeemakers, toasters, furniture, cutlery, guns, bombs (including nuclear and hydrogen, of course), missiles, chemical and biological weapons, tanks, aircraft carriers, battleships, destroyers, submarines, computers, microwave ovens, stoves, furnaces, real estate, parking lots and garages, refrigerators, radios, stereos, TVs, watches, alcohol, drugs, alarm clocks, and so on.  I could go on and on, but the sad truth is that almost EVERYTHING is worth more to meat eaters than the lives of the animals they eat.  Actions speak louder than words.      

Prose & Poetry

 
Do Not Weep, Maiden, for Death Is Kind

What I want to do most is sleep.  That is how I know I want to die, for death is eternal sleep.  There is  no waking from it.  Every morning, I'm disappointed to have woken.  What I really want is to die, peacefully and painlessly, in my sleep.
Perhaps no one believes the person who threatens suicide will do it .  So many people have bitched and moaned about life and suicide, but most of them won't do it.
I was recently told, during a mental health appointment, that alcohol is a depressant.  I knew that already.  My response?  Life, existence, is a depressant, and it is much more powerful than alcohol.
Now that I've accepted death, I feel a certain peace: a peace that passeth all understanding.
Except for animals, I don't care anymore.  I've heard that (I don't care anymore.) in at least 2 songs (Phil Collins and Wilco).
As I wrote in my memoir, Memoir of an American Loser (under my pen name-Zach Murphy), suicide, for me, is like a blanket that sits on a high shelf in a closet.  It's ready to be employed whenever I'm sure the world is too cold to bear.
And if I kill myself, don't weep for me.  Weep for yourself, and the rest of the living (with the obvious exception of Isis members), because there is no pain and suffering in death: only in life.
I hope my writing survives: my 2 books, one about people's horrible treatment of animals (Veganman) and the other a humorous, bittersweet memoir about the pain of life (Memoir of an American Loser), this blog, and, to a lesser degree, what I've posted on Facebook and Twitter.  There's a lot of other stuff too, but it either isn't finished, or there's no place for it at this time.

Life Sucks: a poem

Life sucks
Life ducks?
Life trucks?
Life tucks?
Life bucks?
Life f*cks?
Life clucks?
Life pucks?
Life mucks?
Life luck's?
Life lux?
No, life sucks