It's a shame, it's a pity in new york city well, well, well in Normal entries
- May 21, 2017, 9:22 p.m.
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- Public
You know, it’s weird. Sure ya do. I was watching something that wasn’t very good and my mind was wondering to that old saw about going back in time and killing Hitler. I tried remembering the last time I had that discussion, I was a teenager. And though I likely thought it at the time, I didn’t say anything; it’s not that easy to kill someone, doesn’t matter who it is. Ok, physically it’s pretty easy ; you stand really close and squeeze the trigger of a loaded gun until he stops breathing. Mentally, not so much. None of the teenagers I talked to when I was their peer had killed anyone. I hit sixteen one year after the final withdrawl of american troops from Vietnam. I was a dyed in the wool pacifist, still am, though the dye has faded some.
I followed this link to a meme, Robert Saplosky lecturing on human nature and he opens with his own very violent fantasy of killing Hitler. I’m not sure where he was going, I stopped to write down the odd coincidence, and, honestly, I’ve never heard a grown up speculate on it. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a grown up speculate on the chicken and the egg before either (what I was watching was so bad that my thoughts followed dead hitler down the rabbit hole). Assuming the chicken was a genetic adaptation (though how being a chicken is evolutionary advantageous is beyond me, a bird that can’t fly or protect itself very well), then the egg came first and a weird ass version of the predecessor was born. The chicken genes were so dominant that even when a weird ass predecessor rooster fucked that chicken, the new mutation was so dominant that all her chicks were chickens. Yeah, the show was really awful. If you remember what it was, don’t watch it.
I am traveling through time right now. I’ve almost travelled five minutes since I sat to type. There are fascists and fucktards potentially more dangerous than Hitler and with better weapons and the same nationalist drive. Not only haven’t I killed any of them, not that I’ll admit to in public, I haven’t thought about or fantasized about killing any of them. I’m not saying that makes me a good person, in fact I think I’m a fairly average person and for us fairly average people good might be too good of an adjective. A silly but true for instance; if I traveled back in time and saw Hitler accidently drop his wallet and nobody noticed, I would totally grab his wallet. If Eva Braun came on to me while Hitler was off fucking with Poland, I’d probably sleep with her. If Hitler and I got into a fist fight I’d go for the eyes and the nuts. And it wouldn’t have to be Hitler. I mean, I might not, but those are all in my repartee, not murder. It depends on how I’m feeling. I don’t fantasize about any of that, especially the fist fight.
Shit. I got busy doing nothing in particular and it’s now seven hours in the future. That’s about all I can track on that subject. I used to think in terms of entire pieces; entries, flashes, short stories, novels, letters to home, letters to the editor, that sort of thing. I have no technical skill, but I had a fine imagination. I’m sure I still have it just difficult to access it, or, rather, I can’t access it in the same way I used to. I haven’t written anything I would want to read all year. Maybe that’s not 100 percent true, but the one or two pieces are unfinished and rough. Rough is standard Haredawg, unfinished is not. I’m compulsive and reckless, no, not that kind of compulsive and reckless, the other kind.
Lost that track too. A word on my diet. I don’t think I went two days in a row following it, but, curiously, it wasn’t from cravings or anything, more like too lazy to cook. But I have an opinion. I know a lot of you have struggled through various diets. I lost ten pounds in three months without changing my diet for longer than three days. It’s the exercise and I don’t do much but I actually do something. I’m not going to go all infomercial on you, I wasn’t trying hard to lose weight, just trying to stay sharp. Hmmm, let’s try that again. I’m not going to go all infomercial on you and say “in just fourteen minutes a day … my easy, fun 14 minute workout …” and then make you listen to ten minutes anticipating some grand secret. I mostly just walk, stopped going to the gym in March. I don’t like going alone, the GF was out of sorts. Weight wise the gym probably added pounds, I always took the GF to a steak dinner afterwards. I haven’t got my bike off the rack. So the last few months it’s basically walking and getting my damn fitbit to shut the hell up. I eat like I always have; eat when I’m hungry and eat what I’m hungry for. To keep the fitbit happy it wants half an hour exercise. It doesn’t start counting until you’ve been at it ten minutes. Spending ten minutes three times a day walking won’t get you in the superbowl, but it’s a way of losing weight without changing diet. Granted I do more three ten minute increments, but therer were years in my life when I did much less and years when I did much more without trying. I don’t know, my metabolism is like my imagination; I know it’s still there I’m just have trouble accessing it in the way I’m used to.
Is there something wrong on prosebox? It’s seem to have gone awfully quiet.
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