tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2665846501345235192024-03-13T01:27:12.367-05:00A General MalcontentA semi-autobiographical blog which give me the opportunity to vent, rant, and ultimately motivate myself into doing something with my copious amounts of free time. I will talk about whatever I want whenever I want.Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.comBlogger141125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-90732843393241750352014-06-10T02:48:00.002-05:002014-06-10T02:48:36.080-05:00Well What the ShitIt's officially official. I got offered a full time position at my company last week. Next Monday is my transition date. I'm getting a 30% pay increase, 401k matching, and the healthcare I will have access to are the same cost as my Obamacare coverage but much better coverage. Plus Dental. Which I need, because I have not been to a dentist in a few years. My schedule turns kind of shitty (12pm-9pm Tues-Sat) but the pay and access to good benefits is pretty worth it.<br />
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Needless to say, I've become a fully functioning adult (or close to it), which is fucking crazy. I'm pretty psyched about going permanent, (more due to pay and benefits than the actual work), but another part of me wants to just bleed them dry over the next few months/year and bail. Continue that cycle of work/unemployment. But this is more responsible and a better option. We'll see how it plays outGenerally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-90726245963754958232014-05-19T00:46:00.000-05:002014-05-19T00:46:17.394-05:00Not Half BadJesus, it's already May. Time really flies past you when you sit in an office doing a job that you don't hate. But the day to day still seems to linger on, but then I wake up today and suddenly we're already halfway through May. And it barely got above fifty degrees Fahrenheit for most of the week. Utterly ridiculous. Winter was supposed to end months ago, but it still wants to remind us of how brutal it was, it's icy talons still gouging away. We had frost the other night. Frost. In May. Thanks Obama.<br />
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But I've still managed to get up everyday and head off to work, driving forty-five minutes to do so. My only complaint is the commute, really, but that's just because I'm a completely defensive driver and other driver's have a tendency to piss me off to no end by their generally terrible driving. I don't believe I could live in a city like LA or Chicago; my driving would guarantee that I would never be able to get anywhere. I don't muscle my way in when merging, I wait for people to let me in. It's a bit of a curse, really. Then again, no moving accidents or traffic violation in the 12 years that I've been behind the wheel. Knock on wood. But I'm still contracting, and my contract was extended all the way to October. But, there are full time positions opening up soon, and I have a pretty good chance of getting those. Otherwise, come August, I'll start looking at my options. I don't want to now, only because I have a few days off in the next several months for important family things and I want to be able to get those days off still. We'll see how it ends up. It's such a bizarre feeling, though; I have money and stability, and I don't hate it, but I just want that uncertainty back. I feel like it kept me honest somehow. Like I've put on a tie (I actually don't have to wear a tie) and just went to town as another corporate employee. Such a strange feeling.<br />
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Anyways, that's all I got for now. PeaceGenerally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-57135959461137003362013-12-23T13:33:00.001-06:002013-12-23T13:33:25.059-06:00Posting from mah smartphone<p dir="ltr">Finally entered the 21st century and got me a smartphone. Now to figure this new-fangled technology out. Like how to use it to assist in my writing. Bamph!</p>
Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-56511053498312193862013-12-06T20:12:00.000-06:002013-12-06T20:12:13.755-06:00The November GauntletMy current life, at this point, is relatively surprising. Who would have thought that there would be a point where I would not only no longer wake up dreading going to work, but while at work, kind of like it because there are some pretty solid peeps that I work with. Definitely not I. Definitely not I at all. November was an exciting month for me. I am now working the phones and splitting duties at work between that and my original job. It's better than I expected, because the people calling us up at the helpdesk are not customers but sales associates who need help to help the customers. I haven't had too many negative calls, although it does happen. Besides that, I served on a jury for a day courtesy of the Dane County Circuit court here in Madison, which was actually a pretty positive experience. The other jurors were pretty solid people, all of who had a good sense of humor for our stupid "he said, she said" misdemeanor trial. Nothing serious or exciting, but still pretty positive.<br />
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However, there was a daunting accomplishment that I managed to kick some ass on: National Novel Writing month. <a href="http://pathosprose.blogspot.com/2012/11/national-novel-writing-month-nanowrimo.html" target="_blank">Last year, I tried and failed miserably, not even getting past four figures</a>; However, this year, as of 11-30-13, I met, and slightly exceeded, the challenge which is to write 50,000 words in the month of November. I wrote 50,074 words in the month of November, writing every single day except for the day that I had jury duty. It averaged out to a little over 1700 words per day writing. Some days were less, others more. But I started a novel, and proved to myself that I have the willpower to set deadlines and meet them with grit and determination. It's not only not finished, but it's a pretty convoluted, confusing, kind of pretentious piece of crap, but it's my piece of crap. I feel pretty proud of myself, not going to lie. I decided to take the week off of writing anything, just chilling and figuring out where to go from here. Initially, I had some notes on an outline I was following, but lost that about a third of the way through the month as I just lost the time to try and keep my notes going. That's part of the problem, but it was a pretty unestablished idea at the beginning. Right now, I'm going to take a little break from it and bust out a short story while I figure out how to finish the novel. My plan right now is to finish, then not touch it for a while before editing it. Then after editing it, let it lie fallow again for a while before taking another look at it. After that, who knows.Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-24069735650212719822013-09-24T19:02:00.000-05:002013-09-24T19:02:29.036-05:00MEANWHILE, IN GREG'S BASEMENT!Oh lord, Blogfriends. It has been a bit of time, hasn't it? Sorry, I've been a bit preoccupied with working and such to keep a regular update. But hey, maybe it's time for a life update?<br />
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So, I'm into week six of the two month contract. During the past couple of weeks, I've usually had one day out of the week where I am sent home early because the workload is nothing for the day. Which is awesome and not awesome at the same time. Awesome because I like having extra free time; not awesome because it is not only a long commute, but my paychecks aren't as large as I anticipated, so I'm saving less money. Oh well. because out of that, I have found out that I am doing a really good job. Such a good job that while they are letting other contractors go, I am sticking around as long as the workload continues to be more than the permanent employees can handle on their own. So who knows what'll happen there. Maybe good things. I'm not crazy about the job, but it's better than other gigs. And less stress.<br />
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Anyway, I got a <a href="http://pathosprose.blogspot.com/2013/09/tiresias-finished-full-story.html" target="_blank">new finished story.</a> Check it out. Peace!Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-23970130668000543502013-08-13T16:02:00.001-05:002013-08-13T16:02:07.548-05:00Whoa-oh!Well, the long national nightmare is over. Well, for at least two months. Managed to get a temp gig with a major communications company, sitting in front of a computer checking customer inquiries for errors and whether or not they meet the style necessary to be submitted to the IT department. It's only contracted through the next two months, but there is a slight possibility that it could be extended or turn into a permanent gig. Play it by ear. At the very least, it'll be two months of a break from uncertainty and two months of experience in an office environment. I'm Feeling good, especially seeing as my recruiter told me that I was on the top of the list.Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-34094108901052544392013-06-26T14:13:00.001-05:002013-06-26T14:13:58.156-05:00Another Day, Another Job RejectionI'm not sure how much longer I can deal with this shit.Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-24237837196621684232013-06-20T02:17:00.000-05:002013-06-20T02:17:02.812-05:00LongshotIt's been an anticlimactic month to be certain. Spent chasing job leads and attempting to whore myself out for money to those who need employees. Regardless, it doesn't matter much.<br />
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I'm contemplating a long shot here. A commercial piece of writing, a vision of a screenplay. It's not original: an adaptation. A dream, really. I haven't written it yet, but I feel compelled to adapt this story again to the screen for modern audiences. I have to re-read the source, obviously, but I also feel like working on this will help my sanity somewhat. Perhaps it will take some time, and obviously it's a longshot, but it's worth it, right?Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-59143017859825265442013-06-04T14:46:00.002-05:002013-06-04T14:46:56.681-05:00A New Level of BullshitAs I should have predicted, that job turned out to be bullshit really quick. I did well in the interview, and they wanted to set up a new one. At first I was happy, then anxious, then freaked out, then I decided to look up the company. What I found made me not amused.<br />
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I knew it was a sales position, that primarily did face-to-face customer interaction. What I didn't realize is that was code for a fucking door-to-door salesperson. Fuck that shit. I may have minimal amount of money, but goddamn it, I have some dignity at the very least. And I feel manipulated, because they knew that I was recent college graduate desperate for an opportunity. Desperate, but still somewhat dignified.<br />
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So, I will not be spending the entire day this thursday following around one of their salespeople for eight fucking hours as they intrude on offices and businesses and try to hawk office supplies. I have self-respect, but clearly not that much: I have an interview friday as a parttime telemarketer for Farmer's Insurance. Please just kill me.Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-50358594828237823662013-05-30T16:09:00.000-05:002013-05-30T16:09:09.024-05:00Whoa-ohGot set up with a job interview tomorrow. Legit job, too. Higher pay than anything else I've been looking at, too. It's an entry level sales position, which isn't ideal from the standpoint of my ambitions (writing, graduate school, etc), but it's something. It's money, it's opportunities for growth, it's potentially stability in an unstable world. So I'm gonna go in tomorrow and give them hell. If it sucks, I can stick it out for as long as I can, start looking for something new.Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-33267524613990348302013-05-17T04:30:00.002-05:002013-05-17T04:30:50.153-05:00As i Lay DyingMy favorite Faulkner novel has received a film adaptation, and I'm not sure how to feel about it, especially after the abortion that was the Great Gatsby.<br />
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http://youtu.be/RWXI1M1dcckGenerally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-22811934469983657042013-05-02T01:24:00.001-05:002013-05-02T01:24:08.593-05:00The Grand Inquisitor <i>Chapter Five From <u>The Brothers Karamazov</u> by Fyodor Dostoevsky</i><br />
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"EVEN this must have a preface- that is, a literary preface," laughed Ivan,
"and I am a poor hand at making one. You see, my action takes place in the sixteenth
century, and at that time, as you probably learnt at school, it was customary in poetry to
bring down heavenly powers on earth. Not to speak of Dante, in France, clerks, as well as
the monks in the monasteries, used to give regular performances in which the Madonna, the
saints, the angels, Christ, and God Himself were brought on the stage. In those days it
was done in all simplicity. In Victor Hugo's Notre Dame de Paris an edifying and
gratuitous spectacle was provided for the people in the Hotel de Ville of Paris in the
reign of Louis XI in honour of the birth of the dauphin. It was called Le bon jugement de
la tres sainte et gracieuse Vierge Marie, and she appears herself on the stage and
pronounces her bon jugement. Similar plays, chiefly from the Old Testament, were
occasionally performed in Moscow too, up to the times of Peter the Great. But besides
plays there were all sorts of legends and ballads scattered about the world, in which the
saints and angels and all the powers of Heaven took part when required. In our monasteries
the monks busied themselves in translating, copying, and even composing such poems- and
even under the Tatars. There is, for instance, one such poem (of course, from the Greek),
The Wanderings of Our Lady through Hell, with descriptions as bold as Dante's. Our Lady
visits hell, and the Archangel Michael leads her through the torments. She sees the
sinners and their punishment. There she sees among others one noteworthy set of sinners in
a burning lake; some of them sink to the bottom of the lake so that they can't swim out,
and 'these God forgets'- an expression of extraordinary depth and force. And so Our Lady,
shocked and weeping, falls before the throne of God and begs for mercy for all in hell-
for all she has seen there, indiscriminately. Her conversation with God is immensely
interesting. She beseeches Him, she will not desist, and when God points to the hands and
feet of her Son, nailed to the Cross, and asks, 'How can I forgive His tormentors?' she
bids all the saints, all the martyrs, all the angels and archangels to fall down with her
and pray for mercy on all without distinction. It ends by her winning from God a respite
of suffering every year from Good Friday till Trinity Day, and the sinners at once raise a
cry of thankfulness from hell, chanting, 'Thou art just, O Lord, in this judgment.' Well,
my poem would have been of that kind if it had appeared at that time. He comes on the
scene in my poem, but He says nothing, only appears and passes on. Fifteen centuries have
passed since He promised to come in His glory, fifteen centuries since His prophet wrote,
'Behold, I come quickly'; 'Of that day and that hour knoweth no man, neither the Son, but
the Father,' as He Himself predicted on earth. But humanity awaits him with the same faith
and with the same love. Oh, with greater faith, for it is fifteen centuries since man has
ceased to see signs from heaven.<br />
<div align="center">
No signs from heaven come to-day To add to what the heart doth say. </div>
There was nothing left but faith in what the heart doth say. It is true there were many
miracles in those days. There were saints who performed miraculous cures; some holy
people, according to their biographies, were visited by the Queen of Heaven herself. But
the devil did not slumber, and doubts were already arising among men of the truth of these
miracles. And just then there appeared in the north of Germany a terrible new heresy. 'A
huge star like to a torch' (that is, to a church) 'fell on the sources of the waters and
they became bitter.' These heretics began blasphemously denying miracles. But those who
remained faithful were all the more ardent in their faith. The tears of humanity rose up
to Him as before, awaited His coming, loved Him, hoped for Him, yearned to suffer and die
for Him as before. And so many ages mankind had prayed with faith and fervour, 'O Lord our
God, hasten Thy coming'; so many ages called upon Him, that in His infinite mercy He
deigned to come down to His servants. Before that day He had come down, He had visited
some holy men, martyrs, and hermits, as is written in their lives. Among us, Tyutchev,
with absolute faith in the truth of his words, bore witness that <br />
<div align="center">
Bearing the Cross, in slavish dress, Weary and worn, the Heavenly King
Our mother, Russia, came to bless, And through our land went wandering. </div>
And that certainly was so, I assure you.<br />
"And behold, He deigned to appear for a moment to the people, to the tortured,
suffering people, sunk in iniquity, but loving Him like children. My story is laid in
Spain, in Seville, in the most terrible time of the Inquisition, when fires were lighted
every day to the glory of God, and 'in the splendid auto da fe the wicked heretics were
burnt.' Oh, of course, this was not the coming in which He will appear, according to His
promise, at the end of time in all His heavenly glory, and which will be sudden 'as
lightning flashing from east to west.' No, He visited His children only for a moment, and
there where the flames were crackling round the heretics. In His infinite mercy He came
once more among men in that human shape in which He walked among men for thirty-three
years fifteen centuries ago. He came down to the 'hot pavements' of the southern town in
which on the day before almost a hundred heretics had, ad majorem gloriam Dei, been burnt
by the cardinal, the Grand Inquisitor, in a magnificent auto da fe, in the presence of the
king, the court, the knights, the cardinals, the most charming ladies of the court, and
the whole population of Seville.<br />
"He came softly, unobserved, and yet, strange to say, everyone recognised Him.
That might be one of the best passages in the poem. I mean, why they recognised Him. The
people are irresistibly drawn to Him, they surround Him, they flock about Him, follow Him.
He moves silently in their midst with a gentle smile of infinite compassion. The sun of
love burns in His heart, and power shine from His eyes, and their radiance, shed on the
people, stirs their hearts with responsive love. He holds out His hands to them, blesses
them, and a healing virtue comes from contact with Him, even with His garments. An old man
in the crowd, blind from childhood, cries out, 'O Lord, heal me and I shall see Thee!'
and, as it were, scales fall from his eyes and the blind man sees Him. The crowd weeps and
kisses the earth under His feet. Children throw flowers before Him, sing, and cry
hosannah. 'It is He- it is He!' repeat. 'It must be He, it can be no one but Him!' He
stops at the steps of the Seville cathedral at the moment when the weeping mourners are
bringing in a little open white coffin. In it lies a child of seven, the only daughter of
a prominent citizen. The dead child lies hidden in flowers. 'He will raise your child,'
the crowd shouts to the weeping mother. The priest, coming to meet the coffin, looks
perplexed, and frowns, but the mother of the dead child throws herself at His feet with a
wail. 'If it is Thou, raise my child!' she cries, holding out her hands to Him. The
procession halts, the coffin is laid on the steps at His feet. He looks with compassion,
and His lips once more softly pronounce, 'Maiden, arise!' and the maiden arises. The
little girl sits up in the coffin and looks round, smiling with wide-open wondering eyes,
holding a bunch of white roses they had put in her hand.<br />
"There are cries, sobs, confusion among the people, and at that moment the
cardinal himself, the Grand Inquisitor, passes by the cathedral. He is an old man, almost
ninety, tall and erect, with a withered face and sunken eyes, in which there is still a
gleam of light. He is not dressed in his gorgeous cardinal's robes, as he was the day
before, when he was burning the enemies of the Roman Church- at this moment he is wearing
his coarse, old, monk's cassock. At a distance behind him come his gloomy assistants and
slaves and the 'holy guard.' He stops at the sight of the crowd and watches it from a
distance. He sees everything; he sees them set the coffin down at His feet, sees the child
rise up, and his face darkens. He knits his thick grey brows and his eyes gleam with a
sinister fire. He holds out his finger and bids the guards take Him. And such is his
power, so completely are the people cowed into submission and trembling obedience to him,
that the crowd immediately makes way for the guards, and in the midst of deathlike silence
they lay hands on Him and lead him away. The crowd instantly bows down to the earth, like
one man, before the old Inquisitor. He blesses the people in silence and passes on' The
guards lead their prisoner to the close, gloomy vaulted prison- in the ancient palace of
the Holy, inquisition and shut him in it. The day passes and is followed by the dark,
burning, 'breathless' night of Seville. The air is 'fragrant with laurel and lemon.' In
the pitch darkness the iron door of the prison is suddenly opened and the Grand Inquisitor
himself comes in with a light in his hand. He is alone; the door is closed at once behind
him. He stands in the doorway and for a minute or two gazes into His face. At last he goes
up slowly, sets the light on the table and speaks.<br />
"'Is it Thou? Thou?' but receiving no answer, he adds at once. 'Don't answer, be
silent. What canst Thou say, indeed? I know too well what Thou wouldst say. And Thou hast
no right to add anything to what Thou hadst said of old. Why, then, art Thou come to
hinder us? For Thou hast come to hinder us, and Thou knowest that. But dost thou know what
will be to-morrow? I know not who Thou art and care not to know whether it is Thou or only
a semblance of Him, but to-morrow I shall condemn Thee and burn Thee at the stake as the
worst of heretics. And the very people who have to-day kissed Thy feet, to-morrow at the
faintest sign from me will rush to heap up the embers of Thy fire. Knowest Thou that? Yes,
maybe Thou knowest it,' he added with thoughtful penetration, never for a moment taking
his eyes off the Prisoner."<br />
"I don't quite understand, Ivan. What does it mean?" Alyosha, who had been
listening in silence, said with a smile. "Is it simply a wild fantasy, or a mistake
on the part of the old man- some impossible quid pro quo?"<br />
"Take it as the last," said Ivan, laughing, "if you are so corrupted by
modern realism and can't stand anything fantastic. If you like it to be a case of mistaken
identity, let it be so. It is true," he went on, laughing, "the old man was
ninety, and he might well be crazy over his set idea. He might have been struck by the
appearance of the Prisoner. It might, in fact, be simply his ravings, the delusion of an
old man of ninety, over-excited by the auto da fe of a hundred heretics the day before.
But does it matter to us after all whether it was a mistake of identity or a wild fantasy?
All that matters is that the old man should speak out, that he should speak openly of what
he has thought in silence for ninety years."<br />
"And the Prisoner too is silent? Does He look at him and not say a word?"<br />
"That's inevitable in any case," Ivan laughed again. "The old man has
told Him He hasn't the right to add anything to what He has said of old. One may say it is
the most fundamental feature of Roman Catholicism, in my opinion at least. 'All has been
given by Thee to the Pope,' they say, 'and all, therefore, is still in the Pope's hands,
and there is no need for Thee to come now at all. Thou must not meddle for the time, at
least.' That's how they speak and write too- the Jesuits, at any rate. I have read it
myself in the works of their theologians. 'Hast Thou the right to reveal to us one of the
mysteries of that world from which Thou hast come?' my old man asks Him, and answers the
question for Him. 'No, Thou hast not; that Thou mayest not add to what has been said of
old, and mayest not take from men the freedom which Thou didst exalt when Thou wast on
earth. Whatsoever Thou revealest anew will encroach on men's freedom of faith; for it will
be manifest as a miracle, and the freedom of their faith was dearer to Thee than anything
in those days fifteen hundred years ago. Didst Thou not often say then, "I will make
you free"? But now Thou hast seen these "free" men,' the old man adds
suddenly, with a pensive smile. 'Yes, we've paid dearly for it,' he goes on, looking
sternly at Him, 'but at last we have completed that work in Thy name. For fifteen
centuries we have been wrestling with Thy freedom, but now it is ended and over for good.
Dost Thou not believe that it's over for good? Thou lookest meekly at me and deignest not
even to be wroth with me. But let me tell Thee that now, to-day, people are more persuaded
than ever that they have perfect freedom, yet they have brought their freedom to us and
laid it humbly at our feet. But that has been our doing. Was this what Thou didst? Was
this Thy freedom?'"<br />
"I don't understand again." Alyosha broke in. "Is he ironical, is he
jesting?"<br />
"Not a bit of it! He claims it as a merit for himself and his Church that at last
they have vanquished freedom and have done so to make men happy. 'For now' (he is speaking
of the Inquisition, of course) 'for the first time it has become possible to think of the
happiness of men. Man was created a rebel; and how can rebels be happy? Thou wast warned,'
he says to Him. 'Thou hast had no lack of admonitions and warnings, but Thou didst not
listen to those warnings; Thou didst reject the only way by which men might be made happy.
But, fortunately, departing Thou didst hand on the work to us. Thou hast promised, Thou
hast established by Thy word, Thou hast given to us the right to bind and to unbind, and
now, of course, Thou canst not think of taking it away. Why, then, hast Thou come to
hinder us?'"<br />
"And what's the meaning of 'no lack of admonitions and warnings'?" asked
Alyosha.<br />
"Why, that's the chief part of what the old man must say.<br />
"'The wise and dread spirit, the spirit of self-destruction and non-existence,'
the old man goes on, great spirit talked with Thee in the wilderness, and we are told in
the books that he "tempted" Thee. Is that so? And could anything truer be said
than what he revealed to Thee in three questions and what Thou didst reject, and what in
the books is called "the temptation"? And yet if there has ever been on earth a
real stupendous miracle, it took place on that day, on the day of the three temptations.
The statement of those three questions was itself the miracle. If it were possible to
imagine simply for the sake of argument that those three questions of the dread spirit had
perished utterly from the books, and that we had to restore them and to invent them anew,
and to do so had gathered together all the wise men of the earth- rulers, chief priests,
learned men, philosophers, poets- and had set them the task to invent three questions,
such as would not only fit the occasion, but express in three words, three human phrases,
the whole future history of the world and of humanity- dost Thou believe that all the
wisdom of the earth united could have invented anything in depth and force equal to the
three questions which were actually put to Thee then by the wise and mighty spirit in the
wilderness? From those questions alone, from the miracle of their statement, we can see
that we have here to do not with the fleeting human intelligence, but with the absolute
and eternal. For in those three questions the whole subsequent history of mankind is, as
it were, brought together into one whole, and foretold, and in them are united all the
unsolved historical contradictions of human nature. At the time it could not be so clear,
since the future was unknown; but now that fifteen hundred years have passed, we see that
everything in those three questions was so justly divined and foretold, and has been so
truly fulfilled, that nothing can be added to them or taken from them.<br />
"Judge Thyself who was right- Thou or he who questioned Thee then? Remember the
first question; its meaning, in other words, was this: "Thou wouldst go into the
world, and art going with empty hands, with some promise of freedom which men in their
simplicity and their natural unruliness cannot even understand, which they fear and dread-
for nothing has ever been more insupportable for a man and a human society than freedom.
But seest Thou these stones in this parched and barren wilderness? Turn them into bread,
and mankind will run after Thee like a flock of sheep, grateful and obedient, though for
ever trembling, lest Thou withdraw Thy hand and deny them Thy bread." But Thou
wouldst not deprive man of freedom and didst reject the offer, thinking, what is that
freedom worth if obedience is bought with bread? Thou didst reply that man lives not by
bread alone. But dost Thou know that for the sake of that earthly bread the spirit of the
earth will rise up against Thee and will strive with Thee and overcome Thee, and all will
follow him, crying, "Who can compare with this beast? He has given us fire from
heaven!" Dost Thou know that the ages will pass, and humanity will proclaim by the
lips of their sages that there is no crime, and therefore no sin; there is only hunger?
"Feed men, and then ask of them virtue!" that's what they'll write on the
banner, which they will raise against Thee, and with which they will destroy Thy temple.
Where Thy temple stood will rise a new building; the terrible tower of Babel will be built
again, and though, like the one of old, it will not be finished, yet Thou mightest have
prevented that new tower and have cut short the sufferings of men for a thousand years;
for they will come back to us after a thousand years of agony with their tower. They will
seek us again, hidden underground in the catacombs, for we shall be again persecuted and
tortured. They will find us and cry to us, "Feed us, for those who have promised us
fire from heaven haven't given it!" And then we shall finish building their tower,
for he finishes the building who feeds them. And we alone shall feed them in Thy name,
declaring falsely that it is in Thy name. Oh, never, never can they feed themselves
without us! No science will give them bread so long as they remain free. In the end they
will lay their freedom at our feet, and say to us, "Make us your slaves, but feed
us." They will understand themselves, at last, that freedom and bread enough for all
are inconceivable together, for never, never will they be able to share between them! They
will be convinced, too, that they can never be free, for they are weak, vicious,
worthless, and rebellious. Thou didst promise them the bread of Heaven, but, I repeat
again, can it compare with earthly bread in the eyes of the weak, ever sinful and ignoble
race of man? And if for the sake of the bread of Heaven thousands shall follow Thee, what
is to become of the millions and tens of thousands of millions of creatures who will not
have the strength to forego the earthly bread for the sake of the heavenly? Or dost Thou
care only for the tens of thousands of the great and strong, while the millions, numerous
as the sands of the sea, who are weak but love Thee, must exist only for the sake of the
great and strong? No, we care for the weak too. They are sinful and rebellious, but in the
end they too will become obedient. They will marvel at us and look on us as gods, because
we are ready to endure the freedom which they have found so dreadful and to rule over
them- so awful it will seem to them to be free. But we shall tell them that we are Thy
servants and rule them in Thy name. We shall deceive them again, for we will not let Thee
come to us again. That deception will be our suffering, for we shall be forced to lie.<br />
"'This is the significance of the first question in the wilderness, and this is
what Thou hast rejected for the sake of that freedom which Thou hast exalted above
everything. Yet in this question lies hid the great secret of this world. Choosing
"bread," Thou wouldst have satisfied the universal and everlasting craving of
humanity- to find someone to worship. So long as man remains free he strives for nothing
so incessantly and so painfully as to find someone to worship. But man seeks to worship
what is established beyond dispute, so that all men would agree at once to worship it. For
these pitiful creatures are concerned not only to find what one or the other can worship,
but to find community of worship is the chief misery of every man individually and of all
humanity from the beginning of time. For the sake of common worship they've slain each
other with the sword. They have set up gods and challenged one another, "Put away
your gods and come and worship ours, or we will kill you and your gods!" And so it
will be to the end of the world, even when gods disappear from the earth; they will fall
down before idols just the same. Thou didst know, Thou couldst not but have known, this
fundamental secret of human nature, but Thou didst reject the one infallible banner which
was offered Thee to make all men bow down to Thee alone- the banner of earthly bread; and
Thou hast rejected it for the sake of freedom and the bread of Heaven. Behold what Thou
didst further. And all again in the name of freedom! I tell Thee that man is tormented by
no greater anxiety than to find someone quickly to whom he can hand over that gift of
freedom with which the ill-fated creature is born. But only one who can appease their
conscience can take over their freedom. In bread there was offered Thee an invincible
banner; give bread, and man will worship thee, for nothing is more certain than bread. But
if someone else gains possession of his conscience- Oh! then he will cast away Thy bread
and follow after him who has ensnared his conscience. In that Thou wast right. For the
secret of man's being is not only to live but to have something to live for. Without a
stable conception of the object of life, man would not consent to go on living, and would
rather destroy himself than remain on earth, though he had bread in abundance. That is
true. But what happened? Instead of taking men's freedom from them, Thou didst make it
greater than ever! Didst Thou forget that man prefers peace, and even death, to freedom of
choice in the knowledge of good and evil? Nothing is more seductive for man than his
freedom of conscience, but nothing is a greater cause of suffering. And behold, instead of
giving a firm foundation for setting the conscience of man at rest for ever, Thou didst
choose all that is exceptional, vague and enigmatic; Thou didst choose what was utterly
beyond the strength of men, acting as though Thou didst not love them at all- Thou who
didst come to give Thy life for them! Instead of taking possession of men's freedom, Thou
didst increase it, and burdened the spiritual kingdom of mankind with its sufferings for
ever. Thou didst desire man's free love, that he should follow Thee freely, enticed and
taken captive by Thee. In place of the rigid ancient law, man must hereafter with free
heart decide for himself what is good and what is evil, having only Thy image before him
as his guide. But didst Thou not know that he would at last reject even Thy image and Thy
truth, if he is weighed down with the fearful burden of free choice? They will cry aloud
at last that the truth is not in Thee, for they could not have been left in greater
confusion and suffering than Thou hast caused, laying upon them so many cares and
unanswerable problems.<br />
"'So that, in truth, Thou didst Thyself lay the foundation for the destruction of
Thy kingdom, and no one is more to blame for it. Yet what was offered Thee? There are
three powers, three powers alone, able to conquer and to hold captive for ever the
conscience of these impotent rebels for their happiness those forces are miracle, mystery
and authority. Thou hast rejected all three and hast set the example for doing so. When
the wise and dread spirit set Thee on the pinnacle of the temple and said to Thee,
"If Thou wouldst know whether Thou art the Son of God then cast Thyself down, for it
is written: the angels shall hold him up lest he fall and bruise himself, and Thou shalt
know then whether Thou art the Son of God and shalt prove then how great is Thy faith in
Thy Father." But Thou didst refuse and wouldst not cast Thyself down. Oh, of course,
Thou didst proudly and well, like God; but the weak, unruly race of men, are they gods?
Oh, Thou didst know then that in taking one step, in making one movement to cast Thyself
down, Thou wouldst be tempting God and have lost all Thy faith in Him, and wouldst have
been dashed to pieces against that earth which Thou didst come to save. And the wise
spirit that tempted Thee would have rejoiced. But I ask again, are there many like Thee?
And couldst Thou believe for one moment that men, too, could face such a temptation? Is
the nature of men such, that they can reject miracle, and at the great moments of their
life, the moments of their deepest, most agonising spiritual difficulties, cling only to
the free verdict of the heart? Oh, Thou didst know that Thy deed would be recorded in
books, would be handed down to remote times and the utmost ends of the earth, and Thou
didst hope that man, following Thee, would cling to God and not ask for a miracle. But
Thou didst not know that when man rejects miracle he rejects God too; for man seeks not so
much God as the miraculous. And as man cannot bear to be without the miraculous, he will
create new miracles of his own for himself, and will worship deeds of sorcery and
witchcraft, though he might be a hundred times over a rebel, heretic and infidel. Thou
didst not come down from the Cross when they shouted to Thee, mocking and reviling Thee,
"Come down from the cross and we will believe that Thou art He." Thou didst not
come down, for again Thou wouldst not enslave man by a miracle, and didst crave faith
given freely, not based on miracle. Thou didst crave for free love and not the base
raptures of the slave before the might that has overawed him for ever. But Thou didst
think too highly of men therein, for they are slaves, of course, though rebellious by
nature. Look round and judge; fifteen centuries have passed, look upon them. Whom hast
Thou raised up to Thyself? I swear, man is weaker and baser by nature than Thou hast
believed him! Can he, can he do what Thou didst? By showing him so much respect, Thou
didst, as it were, cease to feel for him, for Thou didst ask far too much from him- Thou
who hast loved him more than Thyself! Respecting him less, Thou wouldst have asked less of
him. That would have been more like love, for his burden would have been lighter. He is
weak and vile. What though he is everywhere now rebelling against our power, and proud of
his rebellion? It is the pride of a child and a schoolboy. They are little children
rioting and barring out the teacher at school. But their childish delight will end; it
will cost them dear. Mankind as a whole has always striven to organise a universal state.
There have been many great nations with great histories, but the more highly they were
developed the more unhappy they were, for they felt more acutely than other people the
craving for world-wide union. The great conquerors, Timours and Ghenghis-Khans, whirled
like hurricanes over the face of the earth striving to subdue its people, and they too
were but the unconscious expression of the same craving for universal unity. Hadst Thou
taken the world and Caesar's purple, Thou wouldst have founded the universal state and
have given universal peace. For who can rule men if not he who holds their conscience and
their bread in his hands? We have taken the sword of Caesar, and in taking it, of course,
have rejected Thee and followed him. Oh, ages are yet to come of the confusion of free
thought, of their science and cannibalism. For having begun to build their tower of Babel
without us, they will end, of course, with cannibalism. But then the beast will crawl to
us and lick our feet and spatter them with tears of blood. And we shall sit upon the beast
and raise the cup, and on it will be written, "Mystery." But then, and only
then, the reign of peace and happiness will come for men. Thou art proud of Thine elect,
but Thou hast only the elect, while we give rest to all. And besides, how many of those
elect, those mighty ones who could become elect, have grown weary waiting for Thee, and
have transferred and will transfer the powers of their spirit and the warmth of their
heart to the other camp, and end by raising their free banner against Thee. Thou didst
Thyself lift up that banner. But with us all will be happy and will no more rebel nor
destroy one another as under Thy freedom. Oh, we shall persuade them that they will only
become free when they renounce their freedom to us and submit to us. And shall we be right
or shall we be lying? They will be convinced that we are right, for they will remember the
horrors of slavery and confusion to which Thy freedom brought them. Freedom, free thought,
and science will lead them into such straits and will bring them face to face with such
marvels and insoluble mysteries, that some of them, the fierce and rebellious, will
destroy themselves, others, rebellious but weak, will destroy one another, while the rest,
weak and unhappy, will crawl fawning to our feet and whine to us: "Yes, you were
right, you alone possess His mystery, and we come back to you, save us from
ourselves!"<br />
"'Receiving bread from us, they will see clearly that we take the bread made by
their hands from them, to give it to them, without any miracle. They will see that we do
not change the stones to bread, but in truth they will be more thankful for taking it from
our hands than for the bread itself! For they will remember only too well that in old
days, without our help, even the bread they made turned to stones in their hands, while
since they have come back to us, the very stones have turned to bread in their hands. Too,
too well will they know the value of complete submission! And until men know that, they
will be unhappy. Who is most to blame for their not knowing it?-speak! Who scattered the
flock and sent it astray on unknown paths? But the flock will come together again and will
submit once more, and then it will be once for all. Then we shall give them the quiet
humble happiness of weak creatures such as they are by nature. Oh, we shall persuade them
at last not to be proud, for Thou didst lift them up and thereby taught them to be proud.
We shall show them that they are weak, that they are only pitiful children, but that
childlike happiness is the sweetest of all. They will become timid and will look to us and
huddle close to us in fear, as chicks to the hen. They will marvel at us and will be
awe-stricken before us, and will be proud at our being so powerful and clever that we have
been able to subdue such a turbulent flock of thousands of millions. They will tremble
impotently before our wrath, their minds will grow fearful, they will be quick to shed
tears like women and children, but they will be just as ready at a sign from us to pass to
laughter and rejoicing, to happy mirth and childish song. Yes, we shall set them to work,
but in their leisure hours we shall make their life like a child's game, with children's
songs and innocent dance. Oh, we shall allow them even sin, they are weak and helpless,
and they will love us like children because we allow them to sin. We shall tell them that
every sin will be expiated, if it is done with our permission, that we allow them to sin
because we love them, and the punishment for these sins we take upon ourselves. And we
shall take it upon ourselves, and they will adore us as their saviours who have taken on
themselves their sins before God. And they will have no secrets from us. We shall allow or
forbid them to live with their wives and mistresses, to have or not to have children
according to whether they have been obedient or disobedient- and they will submit to us
gladly and cheerfully. The most painful secrets of their conscience, all, all they will
bring to us, and we shall have an answer for all. And they will be glad to believe our
answer, for it will save them from the great anxiety and terrible agony they endure at
present in making a free decision for themselves. And all will be happy, all the millions
of creatures except the hundred thousand who rule over them. For only we, we who guard the
mystery, shall be unhappy. There will be thousands of millions of happy babes, and a
hundred thousand sufferers who have taken upon themselves the curse of the knowledge of
good and evil. Peacefully they will die, peacefully they will expire in Thy name, and
beyond the grave they will find nothing but death. But we shall keep the secret, and for
their happiness we shall allure them with the reward of heaven and eternity. Though if
there were anything in the other world, it certainly would not be for such as they. It is
prophesied that Thou wilt come again in victory, Thou wilt come with Thy chosen, the proud
and strong, but we will say that they have only saved themselves, but we have saved all.
We are told that the harlot who sits upon the beast, and holds in her hands the mystery,
shall be put to shame, that the weak will rise up again, and will rend her royal purple
and will strip naked her loathsome body. But then I will stand up and point out to Thee
the thousand millions of happy children who have known no sin. And we who have taken their
sins upon us for their happiness will stand up before Thee and say: "Judge us if Thou
canst and darest." Know that I fear Thee not. Know that I too have been in the
wilderness, I too have lived on roots and locusts, I too prized the freedom with which
Thou hast blessed men, and I too was striving to stand among Thy elect, among the strong
and powerful, thirsting "to make up the number." But I awakened and would not
serve madness. I turned back and joined the ranks of those who have corrected Thy work. I
left the proud and went back to the humble, for the happiness of the humble. What I say to
Thee will come to pass, and our dominion will be built up. I repeat, to-morrow Thou shalt
see that obedient flock who at a sign from me will hasten to heap up the hot cinders about
the pile on which I shall burn Thee for coming to hinder us. For if anyone has ever
deserved our fires, it is Thou. To-morrow I shall burn Thee. Dixi.'"*<br />
* I have spoken.<br />
Ivan stopped. He was carried away as he talked, and spoke with excitement; when he had
finished, he suddenly smiled.<br />
Alyosha had listened in silence; towards the end he was greatly moved and seemed
several times on the point of interrupting, but restrained himself. Now his words came
with a rush.<br />
"But... that's absurd!" he cried, flushing. "Your poem is in praise of
Jesus, not in blame of Him- as you meant it to be. And who will believe you about freedom?
Is that the way to understand it? That's not the idea of it in the Orthodox Church....
That's Rome, and not even the whole of Rome, it's false-those are the worst of the
Catholics the Inquisitors, the Jesuits!... And there could not be such a fantastic
creature as your Inquisitor. What are these sins of mankind they take on themselves? Who
are these keepers of the mystery who have taken some curse upon themselves for the
happiness of mankind? When have they been seen? We know the Jesuits, they are spoken ill
of, but surely they are not what you describe? They are not that at all, not at all....
They are simply the Romish army for the earthly sovereignty of the world in the future,
with the Pontiff of Rome for Emperor... that's their ideal, but there's no sort of mystery
or lofty melancholy about it.... It's simple lust of power, of filthy earthly gain, of
domination-something like a universal serfdom with them as masters-that's all they stand
for. They don't even believe in God perhaps. Your suffering Inquisitor is a mere
fantasy."<br />
"Stay, stay," laughed Ivan. "how hot you are! A fantasy you say, let it
be so! Of course it's a fantasy. But allow me to say: do you really think that the Roman
Catholic movement of the last centuries is actually nothing but the lust of power, of
filthy earthly gain? Is that Father Paissy's teaching?"<br />
"No, no, on the contrary, Father Paissy did once say something rather the same as
you... but of course it's not the same, not a bit the same," Alyosha hastily
corrected himself.<br />
"A precious admission, in spite of your 'not a bit the same.' I ask you why your
Jesuits and Inquisitors have united simply for vile material gain? Why can there not be
among them one martyr oppressed by great sorrow and loving humanity? You see, only suppose
that there was one such man among all those who desire nothing but filthy material gain-if
there's only one like my old Inquisitor, who had himself eaten roots in the desert and
made frenzied efforts to subdue his flesh to make himself free and perfect. But yet all
his life he loved humanity, and suddenly his eyes were opened, and he saw that it is no
great moral blessedness to attain perfection and freedom, if at the same time one gains
the conviction that millions of God's creatures have been created as a mockery, that they
will never be capable of using their freedom, that these poor rebels can never turn into
giants to complete the tower, that it was not for such geese that the great idealist
dreamt his dream of harmony. Seeing all that he turned back and joined- the clever people.
Surely that could have happened?"<br />
"Joined whom, what clever people?" cried Alyosha, completely carried away.
"They have no such great cleverness and no mysteries and secrets.... Perhaps nothing
but Atheism, that's all their secret. Your Inquisitor does not believe in God, that's his
secret!"<br />
"What if it is so! At last you have guessed it. It's perfectly true, it's true
that that's the whole secret, but isn't that suffering, at least for a man like that, who
has wasted his whole life in the desert and yet could not shake off his incurable love of
humanity? In his old age he reached the clear conviction that nothing but the advice of
the great dread spirit could build up any tolerable sort of life for the feeble, unruly,
'incomplete, empirical creatures created in jest.' And so, convinced of this, he sees that
he must follow the counsel of the wise spirit, the dread spirit of death and destruction,
and therefore accept lying and deception, and lead men consciously to death and
destruction, and yet deceive them all the way so that they may not notice where they are
being led, that the poor blind creatures may at least on the way think themselves happy.
And note, the deception is in the name of Him in Whose ideal the old man had so fervently
believed all his life long. Is not that tragic? And if only one such stood at the head of
the whole army 'filled with the lust of power only for the sake of filthy gain'- would not
one such be enough to make a tragedy? More than that, one such standing at the head is
enough to create the actual leading idea of the Roman Church with all its armies and
Jesuits, its highest idea. I tell you frankly that I firmly believe that there has always
been such a man among those who stood at the head of the movement. Who knows, there may
have been some such even among the Roman Popes. Who knows, perhaps the spirit of that
accursed old man who loves mankind so obstinately in his own way, is to be found even now
in a whole multitude of such old men, existing not by chance but by agreement, as a secret
league formed long ago for the guarding of the mystery, to guard it from the weak and the
unhappy, so as to make them happy. No doubt it is so, and so it must be indeed. I fancy
that even among the Masons there's something of the same mystery at the bottom, and that
that's why the Catholics so detest the Masons as their rivals breaking up the unity of the
idea, while it is so essential that there should be one flock and one shepherd.... But
from the way I defend my idea I might be an author impatient of your criticism. Enough of
it."<br />
"You are perhaps a Mason yourself!" broke suddenly from Alyosha. "You
don't believe in God," he added, speaking this time very sorrowfully. He fancied
besides that his brother was looking at him ironically. "How does your poem
end?" he asked, suddenly looking down. "Or was it the end?"<br />
"I meant to end it like this. When the Inquisitor ceased speaking he waited some
time for his Prisoner to answer him. His silence weighed down upon him. He saw that the
Prisoner had listened intently all the time, looking gently in his face and evidently not
wishing to reply. The old man longed for him to say something, however bitter and
terrible. But He suddenly approached the old man in silence and softly kissed him on his
bloodless aged lips. That was all his answer. The old man shuddered. His lips moved. He
went to the door, opened it, and said to Him: 'Go, and come no more... come not at all,
never, never!' And he let Him out into the dark alleys of the town. The Prisoner went
away."<br />
"And the old man?"<br />
"The kiss glows in his heart, but the old man adheres to his idea."<br />
"And you with him, you too?" cried Alyosha, mournfully.<br />
Ivan laughed.<br />
"Why, it's all nonsense, Alyosha. It's only a senseless poem of a senseless
student, who could never write two lines of verse. Why do you take it so seriously? Surely
you don't suppose I am going straight off to the Jesuits, to join the men who are
correcting His work? Good Lord, it's no business of mine. I told you, all I want is to
live on to thirty, and then... dash the cup to the ground!" <br />
"But the little sticky leaves, and the precious tombs, and the blue sky, and the
woman you love! How will you live, how will you love them?" Alyosha cried
sorrowfully. "With such a hell in your heart and your head, how can you? No, that's
just what you are going away for, to join them... if not, you will kill yourself, you
can't endure it!"<br />
"There is a strength to endure everything," Ivan said with a cold smile.<br />
"The strength of the Karamazovs- the strength of the Karamazov baseness."<br />
"To sink into debauchery, to stifle your soul with corruption, yes?"<br />
"Possibly even that... only perhaps till I am thirty I shall escape it, and
then-"<br />
"How will you escape it? By what will you escape it? That's impossible with your
ideas."<br />
"In the Karamazov way, again."<br />
"'Everything is lawful,' you mean? Everything is lawful, is that it?"<br />
Ivan scowled, and all at once turned strangely pale.<br />
"Ah, you've caught up yesterday's phrase, which so offended Muisov- and which
Dmitri pounced upon so naively and paraphrased!" he smiled queerly. "Yes, if you
like, 'everything is lawful' since the word has been said, I won't deny it. And Mitya's
version isn't bad."<br />
Alyosha looked at him in silence.<br />
"I thought that going away from here I have you at least," Ivan said
suddenly, with unexpected feeling; "but now I see that there is no place for me even
in your heart, my dear hermit. The formula, 'all is lawful,' I won't renounce- will you
renounce me for that, yes?"<br />
Alyosha got up, went to him and softly kissed him on the lips.<br />
"That's plagiarism," cried Ivan, highly delighted. "You stole that from
my poem. Thank you though. Get up, Alyosha, it's time we were going, both of us."<br />
They went out, but stopped when they reached the entrance of the restaurant.<br />
"Listen, Alyosha," Ivan began in a resolute voice, "if I am really able
to care for the sticky little leaves I shall only love them, remembering you. It's enough
for me that you are somewhere here, and I shan't lose my desire for life yet. Is that
enough for you? Take it as a declaration of love if you like. And now you go to the right
and I to the left. And it's enough, do you hear, enough. I mean even if I don't go away
to-morrow (I think I certainly shall go) and we meet again, don't say a word more on these
subjects. I beg that particularly. And about Dmitri too, I ask you specially, never speak
to me again," he added, with sudden irritation; "it's all exhausted, it has all
been said over and over again, hasn't it? And I'll make you one promise in return for it.
When at thirty, I want to 'dash the cup to the ground,' wherever I may be I'll come to
have one more talk with you, even though it were from America, you may be sure of that.
I'll come on purpose. It will be very interesting to have a look at you, to see what
you'll be by that time. It's rather a solemn promise, you see. And we really may be
parting for seven years or ten. Come, go now to your Pater Seraphicus, he is dying. If he
dies without you, you will be angry with me for having kept you. Good-bye, kiss me once
more; that's right, now go."<br />
Ivan turned suddenly and went his way without looking back. It was just as Dmitri had
left Alyosha the day before, though the parting had been very different. The strange
resemblance flashed like an arrow through Alyosha's mind in the distress and dejection of
that moment. He waited a little, looking after his brother. He suddenly noticed that Ivan
swayed as he walked and that his right shoulder looked lower than his left. He had never
noticed it before. But all at once he turned too, and almost ran to the monastery. It was
nearly dark, and he felt almost frightened; something new was growing up in him for which
he could not account. The wind had risen again as on the previous evening, and the ancient
pines murmured gloomily about him when he entered the hermitage copse. He almost ran.
"Pater Seraphicus- he got that name from somewhere- where from?" Alyosha
wondered. "Ivan, poor Ivan, and when shall I see you again?... Here is the hermitage.
Yes, yes, that he is, Pater Seraphicus, he will save me- from him and for ever!"<br />
Several times afterwards he wondered how he could, on leaving Ivan, so completely
forget his brother Dmitri, though he had that morning, only a few hours before,
so firmly resolved to find him and not to give up doing so, even should he be
unable to return to the monastery that night. Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-35752959283127870322013-04-15T05:45:00.002-05:002013-04-15T05:45:48.390-05:00Thoreau ( or something similar)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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That select feeling about the natural world around us. It's not quite a disease, but it's not quite naturally occurring in the human species at this juncture of human evolution. He is such a desperate and lonely individual, cast away outside of human interference. If anything, we need one another, despite the broken, calloused existence that intervenes between civilized existence. Into the Wild. Chris McCandless. Alexander Supertramp. His death breeds hope: no hubris in that understanding of the innate human cohabitation with the natural world. He died so that we may live, unburdened by fear of oblivion within the wilds.Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-30035440435796887692013-03-30T06:08:00.002-05:002013-03-30T06:08:52.625-05:00Fare Thee WellUntil we meet again. I no longer wish to be the man you all know. I'm sorry, but I must exorcise that weak bit of self from my identity. Please take care.<br />
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<br />Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-49809689353196509242013-03-21T20:02:00.000-05:002013-03-21T20:02:18.886-05:00March Madness and Stranger ThingsNo, this is not a basketball post. Well, yeah, kind of. Finalized my bracket last night, lost one match-up so far (Bucknell) and on the verge of losing a Final Four pick in the first round (South Dakota State). Don't ask why I chose the mighty Jackrabbits, but I did. They're my dark horse for the year. Everyone else is relatively safe, though I have almost every top seed dropping in the sweet sixteen or elite eight, except Gonzaga, who I picked to lose to Miami in the championship game. Don't ask why I picked the U. They got super hot in the ACC tournament, and I feel like they have a legit chance. What can I say, I'm a crazy person. Not like there's any real money on the line here or anything, so I've got nothing to lose and I'd rather pick the underdogs than the storied, established programs. That's half the fun of the NCAA Tournament, after all.<br />
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It's currently like 30 degrees outside. On the second day of spring. And I'm sitting here in my basement freezing my ass off like a pro. It's pretty fucking cold down here at times. Warmer than outside, but not warm enough during the winter where I can just rock out in my boxers all day e'ery day. So, the winter of my discontent continues like a boss. I really want to go outside and do stuff, but it's too cold for that shit. Hopefully the weather breaks after this week so I can get outside.<br />
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On an unfamiliar note, I went on a double date on Saturday. A friend of mine from my last job set it up with this woman he knows. Went with him and his wife and this woman. Had pizza, played board games, then went out to watch some MMA fights. I had a good time, and she was really nice, but she doesn't drink. That probably shouldn't be too much cause for alarm, but I like to drink, so it's potentially problematic. But, if I'm so attached to drinking that I choose that over a potential relationship, clearly I have a problem. That said, I'm waiting to hear back from her about a second date, just the two of us. We'll see how it goes.Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-3422010511792127092013-03-13T05:38:00.001-05:002013-03-13T19:26:53.191-05:00Oh ShitSo, I was sitting at home this evening, after eating a dinner of delicious steak sandwiches, complete with grilled onions, mushrooms, and pepper jack cheese, minding my own business while looking through job postings, when something happened. I was listening to a combination of Modest Mouse and Listener, basically just dropping pages into bookmark folders for future reference (ie, Thursday and Friday) depending on the deadline for applications when I saw it. IT. The single job I have been waiting for the past three years. The one job that requires a minimal amount of experience but is still the springboard into what I would like to do. That potentially freeing job where I could sit at a desk in a tie all day, writing, and like it.<br />
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It's an entry-level writing job for a copywriting position at a good-sized company that makes backpacks and bags and the like (jansport). The web-posting for the job even says that it requires a minimal amount of experience because, like I said, it's entry level. Which is perfect. It's an opportunity that I've been waiting for. As far as I've noticed, Copywriting is a hard gig to break into. Every position I've seen open requires at least three years of experience: I've applied for some of those, but never heard back, due to aforementioned experience requirements I suspect.<br />
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So, I've gotta give this shit my all. My total commitment to getting this fucking job. If I try and fail, so be it, but if I don't at least try my hardest, I'll never be certain what was going to happen. Time to go to work. Tomorrow's my fucking day after three years of toil and uncertainty, three years of heartbreak and sadness, and three years of a clouded mind and fear; like Sisyphus I have been trapped in Tartarus, repeating the same mistakes over and over again, but tomorrow my friends, tomorrow I cast the boulder from highest point of my mountain prison and stride through the river towards my destiny. May the gods grant mercy to those who try to stand in my way, because I will not.<br />
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<i>Edit:</i> The job isn't for jansport. I applied for a job at jansport for a simple administrative assistant position, and got it confused. This company is Land's End, which does clothing and the like. Still though, sweet positionGenerally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-57660462852045663362013-03-07T01:35:00.002-06:002013-03-07T01:35:58.443-06:00Drunken Adventure!I just wandered the greater downtown area of Madison, Wisconsin in a drunken haze, moving from bar to bar until my ride showed up (because I'm all responsible and shit). Damn it, Madison is such a cool city, but i'm bored with it. Someone come to town and I will be your sherpa on the mountain of awesome!Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-25780006493552552532013-02-27T17:37:00.002-06:002013-02-27T17:37:58.566-06:00It's Never Too Early to Plan a Badass TripSo, me and three of my friends are currently planning on going on a canoe trip in August up to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boundary_waters" target="_blank">my favorite place in the country</a>, aka the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. Located in Northern Minnesota, in the Superior National Forest, my family has been going since my dad was about my age. My uncle goes like three times annually, and the last time I went, I went with him and a family friend for a week of canoeing, fishing, and heavy drinking. This ain't your grandma's camping trip. This is packing only what can fit in a canoe, foods that only need water and fire to be cooked, no metal or glass containers, and miles of unspoiled wilderness. Usually, yes, you see other people (especially on our planned route, because none of my friends have been there before), but you can get to the remote interior of the Wilderness and not see another person for day, especially in Quetico Provencial Park, which is on the Canadian side (hence the Boundary in Boundary Waters). I'm super fucking stoked, even if it's five months away. I've been wanting to take friends with me for years, and most of us are finally in a place where we have the flexibility to go on a trip. It's gonna be baller.Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-16212714254115756532013-02-21T21:52:00.003-06:002013-02-22T17:51:21.416-06:00Trying to shove my head through a concrete wall<br />
<i><b>Edit: </b></i>Everything went better than expected. It was the distributor cap. Which was only a little over a hundred bucks to fix. My paranoia got the best of me yet again. Thanks for letting me rant!<br />
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Shit always happens when shit starts to get better. Period. That is how shit rolls these past few years for me. I catch a break, and shit goes to fucking shit.<br />
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My car died. Like an hour ago. At an intersection. I stopped at a red light, and immediately when I tried to go after it turned green, it died. Eighty-eight dollars later and its sitting in a parking space outside my mechanic. I have to call them in the morning to have them start fixing it. Then I have to call my insurance agent to see if I can get the tow reimbursed because I have roadside assistance, but they neglected to provide me the actual number for it. Eighty-eight dollars to tow it like a quarter of a mile, because my mechanic was literally just down the street from where it died.<br />
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So, no more being picky about a job. I can't afford to be. I've been bleeding money at a steady rate, and I know this is going to take a major chunk out of my cash reserves. I'm going to have to suck it up and find something that pays so I can get my bank account back on track for the summer. So I can attend classes at a nearby community college to get my paralegal certification. That's what I was going to do. Get a good job so I can take a lot of financial pressure off of myself. Which would give me a lot of flexibility in the future. But, that shit costs money. I figured I could do it with a part-time job, so I could kick major ass in class and try to boost my marketability after I complete the certification. Now, not so much. Gotta try and get something to pull me out of what is surely going to be a sweet financial mess. Fucking A.<br />
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This Masked Intruder song is somewhat applicable, because I found out from the tow guy that if I had called it in myself, instead of letting the cop who showed up to block traffic do it, I could have save 20 bucks on the tow. Hindsight. 20/20. All that shit.<br />
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<br />Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-52658255265869792392013-02-20T04:56:00.001-06:002013-02-20T04:56:24.634-06:00Guitar and other thingsI started playing my guitar again over the past few weeks at the urging of a friend of mine. And I'm fucking terrible. There was a time back in college where I was mediocre, but I spent the three years since practicing at a minimal amount, meaning I'm completely shitty. My friend wants to revisit a conversation wherein we start a band, which I'm cool with. I would love to play a few local shows with the multitude of local bands I know and am friends with, but, as before mentioned, I'm fucking shitty. Decisions to be made. Guess I'll just keep practicing in the meantime. I have notice a bit of an improvement with muscle memory, but not much.<br />
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So, LA band The Bronx has a new album out and it's pretty fucking awesome.<br />
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<br />Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-47323119725359519762013-02-15T03:27:00.000-06:002013-02-15T03:27:01.251-06:00My Favorite Albums of 2012 Part Three: The DregsThese here are the albums that I loved, but are of a varying number of genres or sub-genres that don't fit in the other two categories (Spoiler alert: mostly rock). Enjoy<br />
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<b>5. The Mars Volta - <i>Noctourniquet</i></b><br />
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The Mars Volta is now dead and buried (until their reunion), but left in their wake my favorite album since <i>Deloused in the Comatorium</i> and <i>Frances the Mute</i>. Gotta love fucking Prog rock. It's a weird and swirling mass of instruments, and <i>Noctourniquet</i> is no exception. It's a strange, proggy trip, man. Also, instead of a straight up album track rip, I went with a live version of "The Malkin Jewel" because it's pretty fucking glorious. RIP Mars Volta<br />
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<b>4. The Men - <i>Open Your Heart</i></b><br />
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Another band that decided it was going to do back to back releases in 2011 and 2012, The Men are an Indie/noise rock group that hits in all the right places. I ended up picking up this cd by accident, but it was so good that I didn't care. Just rocked the crap out of it.<br />
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<b>3. The Gaslight Anthem - <i>Handwritten</i></b><br />
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I was initially worried when my favorite New Jersey export since Bruce Springsteen were signed to a major label, fearing Against Me! syndrome. However, they pulled it out. A lot less punk than in past releases, which is why I didn't include it with the punk releases. I really like it (though less than previous releases <i>American Slang </i>or <i>The '59 Sound</i>). A solid, rocking album which proves that while a band becomes more accessible on a major label, it doesn't necessarily have to be a death sentence.<br />
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<b>2. Godspeed You! Black Emperor - <i>'Allelujah! Don't Bend! Ascend! </i></b><br />
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I did not know Godspeed You! Black Emperor was releasing a new album until right before it came out. These bitches have been post-rocking since the 90s, and this is there first release in a decade or so. Well worth the wait.<br />
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<b>1. Swans - <i>The Seer</i></b><br />
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Holy fucking shit. A titanic album by a titanic band. Words don't adequately describe<br />
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<b><i> </i></b> Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-79726746001793713382013-02-13T01:10:00.001-06:002013-02-13T01:10:12.972-06:00Favorite Albums of 2012 Part Two: Punk RAWKIts always super difficult for me to try and pick favorite Punk albums from a calendar year, because I always feel like I'm not listening to enough albums. The smaller, less noticed bands stuff is always harder to get ahold of, so I feel like I don't have enough shit to work with. But, in the end, I always do. However, already this year in 2013, two well-known punk bands released really good albums. I would probably have included Dropkick Murphys <i>Signed and Sealed in Blood</i> or Bad Religion's <i>True North</i> on this list, but that would break da rules. So without further ado: <b>My Favorite PUNK Albums of 2012!</b><br />
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<b>5. Tragedy - <i>Darker Days Ahead</i></b><br />
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Tragedy is a legendary crust/hardcore band that was born out of the ashes of one of the most influential crust bands of the 90s: His Hero is Gone. Sticking to an incredibly strict DIY ethic when it comes to their releases, <i>Darker Days Ahead</i> illustrates the abrasive, heavy sound that Tragedy is known and respected for. It's their first release in quite some time, and definitely stands up with the rest of their discography<br />
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<b>4. Code Orange Kids - <i>Love is Love // Return to Dust</i></b><br />
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Code Orange Kids are a changing of the guard with modern hardcore. One of the issues I have with the scene is that on a nigh constant basis, it seems that Punks are always retracting into comfortable nostalgia instead of pushing the envelope of sound towards new and awesome places. Code Orange Kids do not do that, and that reason is probably why Jacob Bannon of Converge signed them to Deathwish records to put out <i>Love is Love // Return to Dust</i>. Heavy, inventive hardcore. Plus, one of their guitarists is a woman, which I always think is awesome is hell. The Punk scene is still a fucking boys club, and it's always awesome to see gender roles and outdated concepts of femininity shattered by a woman who is just as hardcore as any other fuckstain out there.<br />
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<b>3. Title Fight - <i>Floral Green</i></b><br />
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Hell to the yes. I included Title Fight's last release on my list for 2011, and I had no idea they were going to be super productive and rock out another great record in 2012. <i>Floral Green</i> is pretty spectacular, emotional, poppy punk. It's like a glorious mix between Lifetime and Sunny Day Real Estate: all intense, no bullshit, no filler.<br />
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<b>2. Propagandhi - <i>Failed States</i></b><br />
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Propagandhi is perhaps the most political band that I listen to. And I love them for it. They lean really far to the left, and whenever I listen to them, it connects me to my politicized, hell-raising youth. Like when I got detained in Minneapolis in 2006 for protesting the Republican National Convention.<b><i> </i></b><b><i> </i></b>I've been listening to these guys for a long time, and the only thing I really disagree with is there harsh vegan stance (I regularly consume the dead flesh of animals). As such, I've heard the complete evolution of their sound from their early days as straight up punk rock to their modern, melodic hardcore sound, which even contains elements of thrash. <i>Failed States </i>is another great entry to their discography. They maintain that tense energy, like a riot is bubbling under the surface, and a great technicality to their music that makes there messages seem more genuine. Worth listening to for the music alone.<br />
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<b>1. Masked Intruder - <i>Masked Intruder</i></b><br />
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Fuck to the fuck to the fuck yes. <b><i> </i></b>Masked Intruder is pop punk band that wears ski masks of different colors while preforming, and sing songs about breaking the law, the police, and girls. It's pretty awesome. This is their first release since being signed to Fat Wreck Chords, the record label owned by Fat Mike of NOFX. To make it even more awesome, they're from Madison, Wisconsin. I've seen them like three or four times in the past year. I think it's cool as hell that someone from the local scene made it. Possibly the greatest thing about it is that its encouraging everyone else to try hard as fuck. There have been so many great punk shows going on in Madison recently that I'm hemorrhaging money like a motherfucker. It's incredibly catchy, toe-tapping pop punk. Which is made all the better when you're shoulder to shoulder with strangers in front of the stage and everyone is singing along. Btw, this album officially came out last year, but the vinyl wasn't released until this month on Fat Wreck.<br />
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<br />Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-74097343476862676332013-02-06T01:22:00.001-06:002013-02-06T01:22:32.341-06:00My Favorite Albums of 2012 Part One: METAL \m/I'm taking a break from my pathetic sadness to show off my music taste of the past year. 2012 was quite the doozy as far as metal goes, let me tell you. Two of my absolute favorite metal bands released new albums, and both were incredible, making the decision for number one really hard and really easy at the same time. Two other bands I've liked for some time came out with new albums that are officially my favorite of their discographies. Let's get started.<br />
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<b>5. Between the Buried and Me - <i>The Parallax II: The Future Sequence</i></b><br />
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<i>The Parallax II </i><b><i> </i></b>is a follow up full length album to Between the Buried and Me's EP from 2011 entitled <i>The Parallax: Hypersleep Dialogues. </i>The EP itself was really fucking good, but being only part of the whole concept, it was lacking. <i>Parallax II</i> followed it up excellently. It's prog metal at its best. The pool of influence that BTBAM drew from is impressive, and it's a fantastically technical album.<br />
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<b>4. High on Fire - <i>De Vermis Mysteriis</i></b><br />
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Goddamn. Not only is this my favorite High on Fire album to date, it's also about the Cthulhu Mythos, which is fucking fantastic. <i>De Vermis Mysteriis </i>is one heavy, sludgy album, illustrating Matt Pike's masterage of guitar riffage. I had the added bonus of seeing High on Fire preform some of this live a few months ago, which made it all the better. Despite what I see as an increase in overall sludginess, <i>De Vermis Mysteriis</i> still has all the classic elements of the High on Fire winning formula: pounding drum beats and completely shredding guitar riffs.<br />
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<b>3. Gaza - <i>No Absolutes in Human Suffering</i></b><br />
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My body and my mind were not ready for what I was listening to. I've been a Gaza fan for a few years, not too long, so I grabbed this album at my local record store because I had extra money and I was already there picking up another album from this list. It took me a few weeks to listen to, but I'm very glad I took the time so I could properly listen to it. It is one of the most bleak and misanthropic albums I have ever listened to, and incredibly powerful because of that fact. It's heavy as shit, too, sludge drawing on elements of grind, math, and other metal subgenres. Just, completely fucking heavy.<br />
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<b>2. Pig Destroyer - <i>Book Burner</i></b><br />
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Pig Destroyer is hands down my favorite Grindcore band. Now, I realize that doesn't say a hell of a lot, as I find a lot of grindcore tedious and too similar, but Pig Destroyer does it great. So when I initially heard that <i>Book Burner</i> was coming out as their first release since 2007's phenomenal <i>Phantom Limb</i>, I was excited. And rightly so. <i>Book Burner</i> is every bit as deep and unwaveringly complex as their previous releases, illustrating the talent level of an incredibly talented band (Scott Hull is one of the best guitarists in metal, so I say). It's wicked sharp, and it can cut deep into the bone of any listener. Now, I loved the album, but I do have to say that I enjoyed the EP <i>Blind, Dead, and Bleeding</i> more than anything else, because it was Pig Destroyer covering classic hardcore songs. It was definitely worth the extra money to get the deluxe version just for that.<br />
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<b>1. Converge - <i>All We Love We Leave Behind</i></b><br />
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No contest at number one on this list, and a heavy, heavy contender for my favorite album of the year. I don't even feel like I can adequately do justice to it. Converge is sacred, in my mind, and this is just another canonical text is their bible. <i>All We Love We Leave Behind</i> is more on the melodic side than other Converge albums, but it is by no means tame or predictable; the guitars still shriek and growl, the drums still throw a manic beat, and the bass still pounds incessantly, but most of Jacob Bannon's vocals are a little softer. A little. It's fantastic, and a fantastic addition to their already amazing discography.<br />
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<br />Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-70131633847925067642013-01-29T22:50:00.002-06:002013-01-29T22:50:27.684-06:00DemonsMy brother's girlfriend's dad died on Friday, and it hit pretty close to home, as <a href="http://ageneralmalcontent.blogspot.com/2011/05/backwards-look-towards-future-of.html" target="_blank">I have first hand experience on parental death.</a> It was very unexpected. A heart episode, similar to when athletes just keel over and bite it. Her and her family were in fairly good shape, everything considered. Herr parents divorced when she was a kid, due mainly to her father's alcoholism, which led to a lot of bad feelings toward him. However, they were rectified, and her and her sisters had the best relationship with him of their adult lives when he passed. Silver lining was that there were no more negative feelings, so that there weren't any real lingering regrets past those that are normal when losing a loved one.<br />
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So, I met him all of one time, but like I said, I've got experience in this sort of thing. So it's been kind of haunting my mind. In addition to the numerous other things preoccupying my thoughts, invading my subconscious. My new car took a shit with engine problems, which could potentially be incredibly costly. Because I fucked up with the oil. So I'm paranoid about that. And I got emotionally crushed. Unintentionally too. By my longstanding unrequited situation. Everything keeps coming in shitty cycles. One thing goes the way I want it to, and then other shit keeps coming back. I need to get out of this place mentally, emotionally, and maybe even physically.<br />
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Last year, I read Jack Kerouac's masterful novel <i>On the Road</i>, and Ernest Hemingway's incredible novel of post-war expatriates in Paris. Both got me thinking very heavily about where I am physically and where I could be. Wisconsin ranked 42nd in job growth over the last year. The more I look for a job I want, the more I realize that those opportunities are few and far between here in my home state. The more miserable I become, the more my yearning for a new place grows. I wonder if the only answer is to jump without the rope, so that fear will find me.Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-266584650134523519.post-55453585800441157172013-01-24T13:49:00.002-06:002013-01-24T13:49:27.621-06:00New Year, Same ShitMy sleep schedule has been pretty fucked up this week. Got out of whack from being unable to fall asleep and now, it's totally crazy. Every day this week, I've been sleeping for like three hours in the middle of the day, and then dozing on and off while listening to music from like 7 until 10ish. It's really, really strange. So I'll be up all night and morning, then take a nap to "right" my sleep schedule, then while I do my usual read/listen to music evening stint, I end up falling asleep because a rod snapped on my ancient reading chair and rendered it unusable unless I wish to risk sitting in an awkward position and cutting my back to shit on metal. But, it's been freezing fucking cold here. Today was the first time I left the house since Saturday, because when the temperature drops below 10 degree Fahrenheit, I tend to say fuck it.<br />
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Despite my newfound freedom in this new year, I'm feeling like survivor's guilt from the apocalypse or something. It's a really strange frame of mind that's like borderline depressive. Borderline, mind you. I was in worse shape over a month ago. Now, I just feel aimless, unprepared, and still mentally drained. i figured that a month would allow me to recuperate properly, but I'm still having pain twinges in the usual places from my job. It's a haunting reminder of my time spent in that penal colony.<br />
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On the plus side, I've been reading a lot more because what the hell am I going to do with all this free time? I haven't been writing because I'm in various planning stages; trying to ensure that I've got the framework for my next projects down so I can avoid pitfalls that usually happen when I try to write free and organic. Which of course means I'm doing something, but it doesn't FEEL like it because there's minimal physical evidence of this work happening. I have a few composition books that are slowly filling up with notes, but that's about it. That, and few jobs I've applied to that seem like they'd be a pretty decent way to make some money.<br />
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I gotta get all these feels under better control because apathy is the glove into which evil slips its hand. It's somewhat embarrassing: before I entered my new phase of unemployment, I talked up a pretty mean game about my plans, but they're just being plagued by that goddamn apathy. Personally, I partially blame myself and I partially blame winter: there are times I want to just go outside for a walk to clear my head, but it's so goddamn cold out! The plague of upper Midwest living I guess. If I had the money to burn, I'd invest in a treadmill off of craig's list or a gym membership, but when you're in the hole a guaranteed three hundred dollars every month, (plus other uncalculated expenses), you really don't want to sign a fucking contract to ensure that for the next year, I'm stuck paying 30-40 bucks a month out of single pool of money.<br />
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Needless to say, I'm kind of back. I've got time, I kind of have some feels to share and some things going on, so I feel comfortable saying that you can plan on me updating this thing with a little more frequency that angry drunk posts. As a bonus, here's a song by Matt & Kim. They're pretty awesome Indie Pop stuff, which I'm normally never into, but it could partially be because I have a crush on Kim, despite the fact the two are a couple. Guess I have to choose between her or the music. Tough call.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mJsVCi0UsSM" width="560"></iframe>Generally Disgruntledhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114398246148855593noreply@blogger.com2