life

life is b.s. these aren't the over-dramatized snivels of a semi-depressed mofo. no. it really is a ruse. it's a game on top of a game on top of a game. continuous existence of the individual is almost an illusion - though it is sort of real. a game to squirt more dopamine into our own brains - or in general to activate circuitry of happiness. and like the ant that pushes a twig, waits for another to push the twig an opposite direction, and then pushes the twig again, accomplishing nothing, (we just keep having sex with condoms)*. in the ant's mind it's making since. nothing is happening, but the ant doesn't have the perspective to see it - the ant just feels like it's doing the right thing. i write this, because i think i'm going to strive to just push the hell out of twigs. left and right. i want my brain to feel the happiness of thinking it is doing something useful. i'm tired of being one any, looking out at a lawn mower and feeling that the whole hive is about to be blow away. i'm tired of being an ant thinking about how short it's own life is, how fragile. the most happiness must be in letting go of reality. and i wonder why evolution even gave me the ability to perceive reality or any global consequence - but i sort of know the answer - it's handy for engineering (and such) - however it's annoying in many ways.

*merely a metaphor