Infants and Children

3 min read

do you think you can tell


this is the second time this week that i felt minimized; all my ideals and assumptions about things i thought i knew dissolved by a new view of the world.

first round it happended, i sat (unknowingly and uninvited) with top of their game artists and painters and art school teachers and craftsmen and attempted to draw what the instructor had told us to draw. im glad i didnt sit next to the art school teacher, he probably would have protested and demanded that i leave the room and pay for the paper and paint i had wasted in my attempts to illustrate. that is the day that i realized that painting and drawing may not be for me, that maybe i should just call quits and retreat to my shit hole dorm.

that day was the day i recalculated the reality coefficent by which i multipy my expectations and abilities with before i bable on about things. it was painful to recalculate, to see you are not as tall as you had imagined. specially compared to the gaints i sat with.

it was hard and painful to get over that one. and then, 3 days later, i find myself seeign that my recalculation needed another recalculation. the reality i thought i knew and the glimpse of it i saw were ARAMBA ENA KOBBO.

i sat between the taxi driver and the other passenger, they started off by talking about the drama between the goverment and the gas station owners and how that is the reason that there are longass lines for Naphta. then they went on about how their fellow drivers (the other guy is also a driver, though he looks young) died or ended up in prison because of their reckless driving, how the truckers associations were divided among themselves, how the greed of a few number of arrogant tards were the reason that we have to suffer and live hard lives.

as they conversed, i had nothing to add to the conversation, i knew nothing about anything except of course Kant's categorical imperative, the French revolution, making half-functioning websites, and the story of the discovery of Antarctica; or in other words, NOTHING THAT MATTERS. i realized that my livelyhood is a legislation away from being turned inside out. all my attemps at life were childplay, the reality i know can change with just one signature from a government offical.

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