Whenever I ask someone how they are and they respond, “Living the DREAM,” I wonder how close they are to killing themselves. “Living the Dream” is a response that can only be said appropriately in passing, typically from a lesser-known friend, which is a nicer way of saying “ACQUAINTANCE,” or someone you do not need to be asking how they are doing. I need to ask these PEOPLE what their dream is instead of asking if they have plans to kill themselves. Yesterday at work, a C-tier regular came in (who is married to a B-tier regular) and asked me what my dream was, even though I did not say that I am “Living the Dream.” This tier system I’ve made up in my head is based on how frequently people come into the bar. The more I see them, the higher their RANKING. So this C-tier regular goes and asks me what my dream is while I am doing dishes. I am thinking about my dream while picking used Zyn’s out of highball glasses. My DREAM is to NOT be “Living the Dream.” I do not know how to say this to her. I tell her that my dream is to move to New York. I tell her that I am moving there next month, and she tells me that it is very exciting that I am Living My Dream. I say thank you.
I do not say that sometimes I think I will die young as righteous punishment. In the trolley problem, I would code a 50/50 random choice generator for the tracks and then punch myself in the head hard enough to black out. I do not think there is time for this kind of INTELLIGENT PREPARATION in the trolley problem; I think this is the point. My point is that I don’t like the trolley problem. The collision would be atomic and I would be passed out on the ground. Is this punishment or consequence? The ground would be very SOFT, and when I came to, I would KEEP my eyes closed until I forgot how things looked outside of the backs of my eyelids. I have made room for soft ground in the trolley problem. Consequence. I will never open my eyes again. Punishment.
With closed eyes, There Would Be No Proof of Result. If someone told me that I killed the group of people on the tracks or if I killed the one, I would have this person’s word as my sole impression of the truth. You believe in TRUTH. I believe in TRUTH. You believe that the D.A.R.E. program works and I do not. You think that soup is real food and I do not. My truth is different than your truth, so nothing is truth and we are morons. You are a moron. YOU believe that I can listen to you talk about “Living the Dream” for more than twenty-four minutes. My interest in your persona is the length of a TELEVISION EPISODE without commercials. That makes me a moron and INSOLENT.
This insolence may be why I am going to die young. You see, this idea that I am going to die young is actually quite egotistical. It would mean that I am great enough to be one of the greats, the ones who died so young, made their art and then just went off and died, though most of them were active PARTICIPANTS in their death, which is a nicer way of saying they killed themselves. They probably answered “Living the Dream” when acquaintances asked them how they were doing. My co-worker tells me that he is sometimes happy that Kurt Cobain killed himself so we do not watch him get RED PILLED. He thinks this because of something said in a Courtney Love interview. I’m not sure what was said in the Courtney Love interview. My co-worker tells me that he does not mean this in any obscene way. My co-worker’s truth is that Kurt Cobain is one of the greats and susceptible to red pilling. My truth is that Kurt Cobain made great music. Truth is that the man represented disillusionment, and rebellion, and to make sense of him posthumously is not only unfair but nonsensical because his body has been emptied of all its being, and my co-worker is telling me that Kurt Cobain would be red pilled when Kurt Cobain is no longer alive. My truth = all truth. It is easier to project onto someone who no longer exists in flesh.
I think my co-worker would handle the pressure of the trolley problem well. He would not punch himself out of consciousness. By now you are probably mildly unconvinced that I will be BURDENED by an early death as one of the greats. In this case, my co-worker probably believes I will live long enough to get red pilled, and I would be willing to act accordingly on a massively disruptive scale for seven-hundred thousand dollars. YOU cannot do this because your AUDIENCE must be OBLIVIOUS to your embarrassment. Your truth is that you have an audience. My audience is the eyes of T.J. Eckleburg, which is a nicer way of saying “GOD.” I stopped believing in GOD so I could stop believing that he will keep me FROM Rotting. No audience. I want consequence in heaven, not punishment. By this, you can see that I am window shopping morals. Nothing’s sold me yet. They could never red pill me for seven-hundred thousand dollars. That is truth.
I have written “truth” enough times that the word feels devoid of meaning. Truth is that I Want to listen to MODULAR SYNTHESIZERS from before 9/11 in headphones that hang heavy on my head. There will be so many wires that I get tangled up in them all. The synths will make the whole room sound like wob wob wob bzzzzt. That is my Dream. This is truth. Kurt Cobain did not use modular synthesizers in his songs. This is okay. I do not want to live FOREVER. I will die. You will die. This is okay. We were never meant to immortalize the anticipation. This is no threat. I am not “Living the Dream,” not yet. Wob wob wob bzzzzt.
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Regan Roberts wants you to listen to “Scream” by Kurt Cobain and have a good night.
Rejection Letters 