Folk psychedelia ain't like it used to be… Reading comments from oldies wistfully reminiscing on lost love, and their verdant youth, always lifts the spirits.

Another unqualified dumbass.

waste some time by posting whatever is on your mind in the hope that someone may actually take the time to read it or even reply to whatever it is you are posting because that sounds like fun

ps fill my butt with corn

friday hits, and it feels like freedom, the hard part is over! and now you can finally get back to your real life. you make a mental list: chores, friends, family, maybe even a date. you tell yourself, this weekend, I'll catch up. I'll make it count. and then, somehow, you blink, and it's 11 pm on sunday. the laundry isn't folded, the friends remain unseen, and your grocery haul was halfhearted at best. all that's left is the sinking realization that tomorrow is monday, and you're about to do it all over again.

the workweek by contrast drags on endlessly. monday through friday isn't really you it's this version of you that's carefully curated for survival. the fake you. the one who nods along in meetings, answers emails with forced enthusiasm, and pretends to care about whatever meaningless task gets thrown your way. some people you work side along. you can tell they're faking. others genuinely drink the koolaid, or in a twisted way enjoy the mental masochism of typing stupid numbers on a screen. it's exhausting, not just because the work is draining, but because the constant performance of it all chips away at your sense of self. who even is the real you when most of your time is spent playing a role? i feel stupid to even complain considering i have it very lax in my pmc job compared to anyone who has to work hard.

but it's not just the time spent working, it's the fact that work monopolizes everything else. even your free time isn't really free. friday night feels like a race to shake off the week, and by the time you even start to feel like yourself again, it's saturday afternoon. then there's this weird pressure to maximize your weekend, to make it productive or meaningful, or to just relax, because you know it's going to be over in what feels like seconds. and then sunday rolls in, this strange hybrid of anxiety and regret, and all you can think about is how much you didn't do and how quickly the next five days will swallow you whole.

i can't even enjoy vacations for this exact reason. how can you relax when you know it's all fake and soon again you'll be on that hamster wheel. always on edge thinking about how this is fleeting and unsustainable. it would be so nice to be able to wander like in the old days, just move somewhere new with all sorts of potential wacky adventures, jobs, and people to meet.

what's wild is how normalized modern job is. it's just expected that we'll trade the majority of our lives for jobs that barely sustain us, surrounded by people we didn't choose and wouldn't spend a second with outside of work. and for what? so we can cram everything that actually matters our relationships, our hobbies, our rest into a measly two days a week? it feels absurd when you really think about it. this system we've all bought into doesn't leave much room for living.

but what's the alternative? people will say, find a job you love. i highly doubt those exist. and sure, but the truth is, even jobs you love come with deadlines, stress, and the unavoidable fact that you're still selling your time. or they'll say, work for yourself, as if the hustle of being your own boss is any less relentless. it starts to feel like no matter how you arrange it, the game is rigged, you're trading your time for some bullshit that brings you no satisfaction.

and so you find yourself living for these fleeting weekends, these tiny pockets of time that are over before you've even had a chance to breathe. it's frustrating, but it's also kind of bleak when you consider how much of your life gets eaten up by this cycle. sometimes i think about all the hours i've spent staring at the clock during the week, willing it to move faster, just so i can get to the weekend. and then i wonder, what if i added all those hours together? how much of my life have i spent wishing it away? it all becomes this sick blur after a while; the older you are the faster time moves and the more things become this boring routine that you can't escape. i'd rather die.

maybe that's the cruelest part of adulthood not just that the weekend goes so fast, but that the rest of the time feels so empty and forgettable and a blur. you're left chasing something that always slips just out of reach, hoping that somehow, somewhere along the way, it'll all feel worth it. but most of the time, it doesn't. and maybe that's the point to keep you too busy, too tired, and too distracted to ask why this is the way things are.

There's no way a guy whose military career peaked at training the Afghan security forces (lmfao), was too wasted to run a couple of rinky dink nonprofits, and parlayed it all into bringing the Deus Vult aesthetic to Fox News is going to be able to succeed at running the world's largest, most corrupt, and most arcane bureaucracy. Right? If he makes even a token effort to quit drinking, which he might not, he's going to last about 3 days before the alcohol demon claws its way out and he goes Ralph Cifaretto on a call girl. I literally cannot see how this goes well for him.