I went and ate at a quality joint last night. Five star, four star, either way, lots of stars. Figured what the heck, I work hard, might as well do the fine dining thing. The place rules. Me and a buddy, drinking good liquor and eating food with confections that I can’t pronounce.
No loud music. No lines. The din of people talking about trivial things with real fervor, because they currently can’t think of any real problems.
In other words, the opposite of reality. That’s what the fancy restaurant is. The people serving you wear ties—I haven’t worn a tie in years. You’re made to feel like someone important. You get to pretend, they provide the framework.
There are things that bother me about this whole deal. The fact that there’s a need to pretend says something about me and about the world; that is, I’m not that important, and the world kind of sucks a lot of the time.
There are the sunny side up types that give you an impression that all is well. Yeah…not really. It may be all right now, but you’ll come to a time when you’ll be begging at the door of the fancy restaurant to get in.
It’s entirely possible that my pessimism derives from bad philosophy, but I just read the world for what it is. It’s a place that makes you do a lot of things to stay alive, forces you into a lot of situations that aren’t wholly pleasant and often times just plain suck. There are reasons for optimism—I’m not saying there aren’t, but I’m not seeing it as the prevailing wisdom.
There are probably some youngsters out there that haven’t really had anything bad happen to them for any protracted length of time. It’s been all good. Those people are idiots, and they have every right to be. I hope that your idiocy stays intact for as long as possible.
So I’ll be a pessimist. In the end, it’s the way to get the most enjoyment out of life. Being a pessimist means when good times happen, you get to pretend way harder than other folks that everything’s fine. See you after.